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There, how times have changed; how few seafarin' families there are left! What a lot o' queer folks there used to be about here, anyway, when we was young, Almiry. Everybody's just like everybody else, now; nobody to laugh about, and nobody to cry about." It seemed to me that there were peculiarities of character in the region of Dunnet Landing yet, but I did not like to interrupt.
Early one morning at Dunnet Landing, as if it were still night, I waked, suddenly startled by a spirited conversation beneath my window. It was not one of Mrs. Todd's morning soliloquies; she was not addressing her plants and flowers in words of either praise or blame.
Todd as landlady, herb-gatherer, and rustic philosopher; we had been discreet fellow-passengers once or twice when I had sailed up the coast to a larger town than Dunnet Landing to do some shopping; but I was yet to become acquainted with her as a mariner. An hour later we pushed off from the landing in the desired dory.
Ray put her apron to her eyes. "Ye'll na boune yit, Mary," said Matthew. "Ye'll na boune yon way for mony a lang year yit. So dunnet ye beurt, Mary." Mattha's blubbering tones somewhat discredited his stoical advice. Rotha had taken down a cup, and put the old man to sit between herself and Willy, facing Mrs. Ray.
He rose with dignity to take leave, and asked me to stop at his house some day, when he would show me some outlandish things that he had brought home from sea. I was familiar with the subject of the decadence of shipping interests in all its affecting branches, having been already some time in Dunnet, and I felt sure that Captain Littlepage's mind had now returned to a safe level.
"What's comin' ower thee, my lad, that thou looks so, and talks so?" "What's coming over me, mother? Shall I tell thee? It's Death that's coming over me; that's what it is, mother Death!" "Dunnet say that, Joey." The old woman threw her apron over her head and sobbed. Garth looked at her, with never a tear in his wide eyes.
"It's the fellow Ray, to a certainty," said the little man, pricking his horse into a canter as soon as he reached the first fields of Ennerdale. In a few minutes the three men had drawn up at the cottage on the breast of Brandreth where Sim had asked for a drink. "Mistress! Hegh! hegh! Who was the man that left you just now?" "I dunnet know wha't war some feckless body, I'm afeart.
One September day, when I was nearly at the end of a summer spent in a village called Dunnet Landing, on the Maine coast, my friend Mrs. Todd, in whose house I lived, came home from a long, solitary stroll in the wild pastures, with an eager look as if she were just starting on a hopeful quest instead of returning.
Of these, perhaps the cave of Ham, in Dunnet parish, is the most frequented. It is the nearness to a large town which gives to the Wick caves their steady tenants. The neighbouring population is large enough to afford room for trading, begging, and stealing all the year round. "The occupants of the Wick caves are the people commonly known by the name of Tinkers.
Todd proudly called a full "kag" of prime number one salted mackerel; and when we landed we had to make business arrangements to have these conveyed to her house in a wheelbarrow. I never shall forget the day at Green Island. The town of Dunnet Landing seemed large and noisy and oppressive as we came ashore.
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