HOW I WENT OUT WITH JOHN OZANNE There was no difficulty in finding John Ozanne.

I made out his burly figure and red-whiskered face on the harbour wall before I had passed Castle Cornet, and heard his big voice good-humouredly roaring to the men at work in the rigging of a large schooner that lay alongside.
He greeted me with great goodwill.
"Why, surely, Phil," he said very heartily, in reply to my request.

"It's not your grandfather's boy I would be refusing, and it's a small boat that won't take in one more.

What does the old man say to your going ?" "He's willing, or I wouldn't be here." "That's all right, then.

What do you think of her ?" We were standing on the harbour wall, looking down on the schooner on which the riggers were busy renewing her standing gear.
"A good staunch boat, I should say.