But above all, there was the sea on the other side of the wood, of
the presence of which we were always conscious--the sea, of which we
could often catch glimpses between the trees, lending a sense of
freedom and wonder and romance such as no landscape can lend. Our
great difficulty of course was in connection with my lameness. Few
children would have tried to convey a pair of crutches and a lame leg
down the cliff to the long level brown sands that lay, farther than
the eye could reach, stretched beneath miles on miles of brown
crumbling cliffs, whose jagged points and indentations had the kind
of spectral look peculiar to that coast. For, alas! the holy water
Winifred brought did not 'cure the crutches.' Yet we used to master
the difficulty, always selecting the firmer gangway at Flinty Point,
and always waiting, before making the attempt, until there was no one
near to see us toiling down. Once down on the hard sands just below
the Point, we were happy, paddling and enjoying ourselves till the
sunset told us that we must begin our herculean labour of hoisting
the leg and crutches up the gangway back to the wood.
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