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Updated: June 29, 2025
One morning, a considerable time after the events we have just narrated, Stephen Lockley invited his old comrades to meet him in the Gorleston coffee-tavern, and, over a rousing cup of "hot, with," delivered to them the following oration: "Friends and former messmates. I ain't much of a speaker, so you'll excuse my goin' to the pint direct.
During the night a strong wind arose, and next morning, when Mr. Pickles attempted to resume the flight, the sea was too rough for a start to be made, and the water-plane was beached at Gorleston. Mr.
Thus adjured, and with curiosity somewhat excited, Mrs Mooney suffered herself to be led to that temperance coffee-tavern in Gorleston to which we have already referred. "Ain't it comf'r'able?" asked the boy, as his companion gazed around her. "Now then, missis," he said to the attendant, with the air of an old frequenter of the place, "coffee and wittles for two hot.
We asked the pilot how she could ever be launched, and he told us that she would be eased down the cliffs by ropes at high tide, when the water, rushing close up to the base, would float her. We brought-up at some little distance from the entrance, opposite a line of neat-looking cottages, forming the village of Gorleston, and inhabited chiefly by pilots.
But worse awaited him. Mrs. Woolstan, he learnt, would not be at home for the mid-day meal; she was with friends who had a house at Gorleston. "Where is the house?" he asked, impatiently, stamping as if his feet were cold. The woman pointed his way. "Who are the people? What is their name?" He heard it, but it conveyed nothing to him.
I remember first seeing you at Oulton, some twenty-five years ago; then at Donne's in London; then at my own happy home in Regent's Park; then ditto at Gorleston after which, I have seen nobody, except the nephews and nieces left me by my good sister Kerrich. So shall things rest? Yours and theirs sincerely, EDWARD FITZGERALD. Borrow was still a remarkably robust man. Mr Watts-Dunton tells how,
"You remember the patch o' green in front o' my cottage in Gorleston?" asked Jim, paying no attention to his mate's advice. "Yes," answered Evan. "Well, when I was sittin' for'ard there, not half-an-hour since, I seed my Nancy a-sittin' on that green as plain as I see you, sewin' away at somethin', an' Lucy playin' at her knee.
With compliments to Mrs Borrow, believe me, Yours truly, EDWARD FITZGERALD. P.S. Donne is well, and wants to know about you. A few months later FitzGerald wrote again: ALBERT HOUSE, GORLESTON, 6th July 1857. I am now looking over the Calcutta MS. which has 500! very many quite as good as those in the MS. you have; but very many in BOTH MSS. are well omitted.
Arrived at Yarmouth, he jumped into a cab, and was driven along the dull, flat road which leads to Gorleston. Odour of the brine made amends for miles of lodgings, for breaks laden with boisterous trippers, for tram cars and piano-organs.
The gale showed no sign of abatement; the fleet was scattered; no glimpse of the sun was visible at any time; and the compass was somewhere at the bottom of the sea. "We may be making a bit of headway no'th, or a bit of leeway west," said Weeks, "or we may be doing a sternboard. All that I'm sure of is that you and me are one day going to open Gorleston Harbour.
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