Chapter 1
IfyouenterBelfastHarbourearlyinthemorningonthemailsteamerfromFleetwoodyouwillseefaraheadofyouasmudgeofsmoke.Atfirstitisnothingbuttheapexofagreattriangleformedbytheheightsononeside,thegreenwoodedshoresontheother,andthehorizonastern.Asyougoonthetrianglebecomesnarrower,thebluewaterssmoother,andtheshipglidesoninatriangleofherownatriangleofwhitefoamthatisparalleltothegreentriangleoftheshore.BehindyoutheCopelandLighthousekeepsguardoverthesunriseandthetumblingsurgesoftheChannel,beforeyouisthecloudofsmokethatjoinsthenarrowingshoreslikeagraycanopy;andthereisnosoundbuttherushoffoampasttheship’sside.
Youseemtobemakingstraightforagraymudflat;butasyouapproachyouseeanarrowlaneofwateropeninginthemudandshingle.Twolowbanks,likethebanksofacanal,thrustouttheirendsintothewatersofthelough;andpresently,herspeedreducedtodeadslow,theshipentersbetweentheselowmudbanks,whicharecalledtheTwinIslands.Sonarrowisthelanethatassheentersthewaterrisesontheshinglebanksandflowsinwavesoneithersideofherliketwograyhorseswithwhitemanesthatcanterslowlyalong,asolemnescort,untilthechannelbetweentheislandsispassed.Dayandnight,winterandsummer,thesetwograyhorsesarealwayswaiting;noshipeversurprisesthemasleep;noshipentersbuttheyriseupandshaketheirmanesandaccompanyherwiththeirflowing,canteringmotionalongtheconfinesoftheirterritory.
