The ferry itself was one of those delightful survivals of mediaevalism which linger here and there in a few fortunate corners of our isles.

A large flat-bottomed boat was slung on chains which spanned the river, and could be worked slowly across the water by means of a small windlass.

Though it was perfectly possible, and often even more convenient, to drive to the school direct from Llangarmon Junction, so great was the popular feeling in favour of arrival by the ferry that at the autumn and spring reunions the girls were allowed to avail themselves of the branch railway and approach The Woodlands by way of the river.
They now hurried on to the boat as if anticipating a pleasure-jaunt.

The capacities of the flat were designed to accommodate a flock of sheep or a farm wagon and horses, so there was room and to spare even for thirty-seven girls and their hand luggage.

Evan Davis, the crusty old ferryman, greeted them with his usual inarticulate grunt, a kind of "Oh, here you are again, are you!" form of welcome which was more forceful than gracious.