He linked the protecting chains carefully across the end of the boat, called out a remark in Welsh to his son, Griffith, and, seizing the handle, began to work the windlass.

Very slowly and leisurely the flat swung out into the river.

The tide was at the full and the wide expanse of water seemed like a lake.

The clanking chains brought up bunches of seaweed and river grass which fell with an oozy thud upon the deck.

The mountain air, blowing straight from Penllwyd, was tinged with ozone from the tide.