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During the night of August 7, 1914, train after train filled with troops steamed toward Southampton, and some other south-coast ports. Complements were also embarked at Dublin, Avonmouth, and the Bristol Channel. In the middle of the night citizens of small towns along the route were awakened by the unceasing rumble of trains. They had no conception of its import.
But he must live somewhere, he was sick of Pump Court, and his friends and this little south-coast village were now ardent in his mind; why not live here? True that the country was in no way beautiful and offered no temptations to a landscape painter, but he seldom painted landscapes, and if he wanted a bit of woodland he would find it over the Downs.
At certain times of the year, any landlubber can land through the surf at low tide; in fact, ownerless skiffs are picked up on the south-coast beaches right regularly." "Well, you can't blame the poor devils for wanting to come to this wonderful country, Mr. Conway. It holds for them opportunities far greater than in their own land." "True, Mr. Parker.
The last years of the eighteenth century were prolific in the birth of south-coast watering places or in the transformation of decayed ports or remote seaside hamlets into fashionable bathing places. Bognor is a case in point and comes within the latter category.
We quite understand your desire to make more headway than you can in a south-coast watering-place.... At this moment Edith came in. Bruce looked up a little annoyed at the interruption. He was becoming quite absorbed in the egg-preserving case on the south coast, and morbidly anxious to know what would happen next. 'Bruce, I wonder if you'd do me a very great favour? It really isn't difficult.
For the rest he lived in some south-coast watering-place and fancied himself a sportsman because he had on various occasions hired a Scottish moor or deer forest. Evidently he had never done anything nor earned a shilling during all his life and was bringing his family up to follow in his useless footsteps.
For a long time we hung there, the waves rolling smoothly under us and crashing against the steep bank of sand just in front, as a stormy sea crashes against a south-coast esplanade at full tide under a south-west wind.
It might seem that similar aid could have been afforded to Warburton and others who attempted to trace the south-coast line. But for hundreds of miles along the shores of the Bight no vessel could reach the shore or lie safely at anchor. Long ranges of perpendicular cliffs, from 300 to 400 feet high, presented a barrier effectually forbidding approach by sea.
A stirring breeze swept down the long white esplanade, threatening hats and troubling skirts; the pale-green south-coast sea rumbled up the shingle; the day was bright and pleasant for the time of year, and drove the Baron’s mischances from his head; altogether it seemed to Mr Bunker that the omens were good.
"I draw the line at railway stations," said Moggs, "south-coast cliffs, theatre programmes, books by me and poetry generally scenery oh! and the Mercure de France." "We'll get along," said my uncle. "So long as you don't annoy me," said Moggs, lighting a cigarette, "you can make me as rich as you like." We certainly made him no poorer.
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