The hut was in a most picturesque spot, and although deserted, remained still in good repair.

The little scrap of garden ground was a tangle of gooseberry and currant bushes among which potatoes flourished at their own sweet will.
We had only time to beach the boat, that is to say F---- and the two men did so, whilst I ran backwards and forwards with the blankets and provisions, before the hurricane was upon us.

Henceforth there was no stirring out of doors until the gale had blown itself out.

We dragged in some driftwood, barricaded the door, and prepared to pass the time as well as we could.

Oh, the fleas in the hut! The ground was literally alive with them, and their audacity and appetite was unparalleled.
Our boatmen sat tranquilly by the tiny window and played cribbage incessantly with very dirty cards and a board made out of a small bar of soap.