"But you see," said Will Hermann, "this is really rather a dangerous
point, though it is so beautiful. It is the gateway of the open sea,
and there are three big ledges across it. A ship that has lost her
bearings a little, or is driving in through thick weather, easily
comes to grief. But there is not often a loss of life, only the
ship goes to pieces. And we save the pieces."
It was true. There was a terrace west of the house, with a balustrade
made of the taffrail of a wrecked brigantine. The gateway to the
garden was the door of an old wheel-house. There was a pergola
constructed from the timbers of a four-masted schooner that had
broken up on the third ledge. The bow of the sloop _Christabel,_
with the name still painted on it, was just outside the garden-gate.
Everywhere you saw old anchor-bits, and rudder-posts, and knees,
all silver-greyed by the weather, and fitted in to the _decor_
of the place.
The prettiest thing of all was a crow's-nest from a wrecked
brigantine, perched on the highest point of the hill, and looking
out over the marvellous panorama of sea and shore, island and
mountain.
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