"For the Scilly Isles had been sighted by Timmy Durrant lying like mountain-tops almost a-wash in precisely the right place. His calculations had worked perfectly and really the sight of him sitting there with his hand on the tiller rosy gilled with a sprout of beard looking sternly at the stars then at a compass spelling out quite correctly his page of the eternal lesson-book would have moved a woman. Jacob of course was not a woman. The sight of Timmy Durrant was no sight for him nothing to set against the sky and worship; far from it. They had quarrelled. Why the right way to open a tin of beef with Shakespeare on board under conditions of such splendour should have turned them to sulky schoolboys none can tell. Tinned beef is cold eating though; and salt water spoils biscuits; and the waves tumble and lollop much the same hour after hour tumble and lollop all across the horizon. Now a spray of seaweed floats past- now a log of wood. Ships have been wrecked here. One or two go past keeping their own side of the road.