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Wal Jessop drank it with evident relish. Then he looked at his watch, and said:

‘Ten o’clock. I’ll just go up on the cliffs, and have a look out to sea; I’ll never rest if I don’t.’

‘If you say you’ll go I know you mean it,’ said his wife; ‘but do be careful. You might get blown over the rocks.’

‘There’s a moon,’ he said; ‘and I’m more likely to be blown away from the rocks than over them. I’ll not be gone long. You go to bed.’

He put on a thick coat and slouch hat, kissed his wife, and then went out into the stormy night.

‘If he fancies I’m going to bed until he comes home he’s mistaken,’ said Mrs. Jessop to herself. ‘Oh, these sailors! A furious gale seems to tempt them outside when other folk are only too anxious to hide their heads under the bedclothes.’

Wal Jessop felt the full force of the wind as he made his way up a narrow path towards the top of the cliff. He battled with it, and seemed to take a fierce delight in overcoming it. A terrific gust nearly swept him off his feet, and he muttered: