Early in October, James Walsham was to go up to London, to commence his medical course.  A week before he was to start, Mr. Wilks went down in the morning, intending to insist on his returning with him to the Hall.  As he went down towards Sidmouth, the old soldier noticed how strongly the wind was blowing, the trees were swaying and thrashing in the wind, the clouds were flying past overhead.  Everything portended a severe gale.

Finding, at Mrs. Walsham’s, that James was down on the beach, he continued his course until he joined him there.  James was standing with a group of fishermen, who were looking seaward.  Now that he was exposed to the full force of the wind, Mr. Wilks felt that, not only was it going to blow a gale, but that it was blowing one already.  The heavy clouds on the horizon seemed to lie upon the water, the waves were breaking with great force upon the beach, and the fishermen had hauled their boats up across the road.

“It’s blowing hard, Jim,” he said, laying his hand on the young fellow’s shoulder.

“It is blowing hard, and it will blow a great deal harder before nightfall.  The fishermen all think it is going to be an exceptional gale.  It is blowing dead on shore.  It will be bad work for any ships that happen to be coming up Channel today.  Eight or ten of our boats are out.  We thought we had made out three of them just before you came, but the cloud closed down on them.  The fishermen are just going to get lifelines ready.  I am afraid we are going to have a terrible night of it.”

“I came down to ask you if you will come up to lunch, Jim, but I suppose you will not be able to tear yourself away from here.”

“I shouldn’t like to leave now, indeed.  There is no saying what may happen.  Besides, so many of the fishermen are away, that I may be useful here if a vessel comes ashore, and there may be half a dozen before the morning.  Every hand will be wanted to give assistance.”

“But you could not get a boat out through those breakers, could you, Jim?”

“Yes,” Jim replied, “we might get one of the big boats through it now; but it’s going to be worse, presently.  When I went out, last year, with a boat to the brig which was driven ashore, it was worse than this.

“I shall be very glad to come up tomorrow, if you will let me.  I hear that fellow Horton went away last week.”

“Yes, he went away, Jim.  But why his being there should have kept you from going up is beyond me.”

“I don’t like the fellow, Mr. Wilks.  He may mean very well, but I don’t like him.  I have been in one row about him with the squire, and I don’t want another; but I am quite sure, if I had gone up much while he was there, it would have ended in my trying to punch his head again.”

“In that case, perhaps,” the old soldier said, smiling, “you were wise to stay away, Jim.  I don’t like the lad myself.  Still, punching his head would not have been a desirable thing.”