He had been mason before he became fisherman, and was handy with his tools; so that if anyone wanted a headstone set up in the churchyard, he went to Ratsey to get it done.

I lent over the half-door and watched him a minute, chipping away with the graver in a bad light from a lantern; then he looked up, and seeing me, said: 'Here, John, if you have nothing to do, come in and hold the lantern for me, 'tis but a half-hour's job to get all finished.' Ratsey was always kind to me, and had lent me a chisel many a time to make boats, so I stepped in and held the lantern watching him chink out the bits of Portland stone with a graver, and blinking the while when they came too near my eyes.

The inscription stood complete, but he was putting the finishing touches to a little sea-piece carved at the top of the stone, which showed a schooner boarding a cutter.

I thought it fine work at the time, but know now that it was rough enough; indeed, you may see it for yourself in Moonfleet churchyard to this day, and read the inscription too, though it is yellow with lichen, and not so plain as it was that night.

This is how it runs: SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF DAVID BLOCK Aged 15, who was killed by a shot fired from the _Elector_ Schooner, 21 June 1757.
Of life bereft (by fell design), I mingle with my fellow clay.
On God's protection I recline To save me in the Judgement Day.
There too must you, cruel man, appear, Repent ere it be all too late; Or else a dreadful sentence fear, For God will sure revenge my fate.
The Reverend Mr.Glennie wrote the verses, and I knew them by heart, for he had given me a copy; indeed, the whole village had rung with the tale of David's death, and it was yet in every mouth.