Chapter 75

But of all the picking up of buoys and moorings, the most astonishing cast I ever made was in Orford River. There was a tearing wind upstream, and I was bowling along in front of it with a tall great noisy comber of foam at the bows, and straining my eyes for something to round up to, as it was at Orford that I had planned to lie for the night. There was a crowd of men upon the shore. They shouted to me and pointed, and I took their cries to be an invitation, for there, sure enough, was a little buoy of a fine red …