“I tell you that there is no way into the river here. Oh, yes, there is; I beg your pardon, but I should have rowed about until doomsday before I found the way off.”
“And you couldn’t have landed, for I don’t think there is a bit of solid ground all round the Broad. But where is the yacht?” For there was no sign of her.
The wide opening on the opposite side of the river suggested that perhaps the man had taken her on to Salhouse Broad. So we rowed on, disturbing a kingfisher, which was perched on a bullrush, and there was a picture. Wynne cried, “Oh!” with delight, and, although I have seen the like so many times, the scene is always fresh in its beauty. On the placid bosom of the small lake the yacht lay motionless, while a pair of swans, with their brood of cygnets, swam near her. Outside the ever-present boundary of green reeds, was a darker circle of trees, and crowds of yellow lilies made a bright bit of colour in the foreground. On the further shore was a thatched boat-house, and behind it a wooded bank. The thud of the jolly against the yacht’s side aroused a wild duck; a shoal of rudd broke the still surface, as they sprang from a pursuing pike, and the red-and-white cows, which had pushed through the reeds to drink, stood looking at us contemplatively.
We dropped the anchor, and got tea ready, and Wynne worked hard at a water-colour sketch, brush in one hand, bread and butter in the other, palate, plate, and sketch-block mixed up, and the brush going as often into his teacup as into the mug of water.
After tea, we landed, and walked into the long and straggling village of Salhouse, in search of bread and fresh meat, and on our return, climbed to the top of the bank, whence a fair prospect met our eyes. At our feet were Salhouse Broad, and the smaller Broad next to it, which I call Salhouse Little Broad, a lakelet covered with water lilies; outside these, the sinuous river, doubling upon itself, as though loth to leave so pleasant a land; Hoveton Broad to the right, and Wroxham Broad to the left; many white sails flitting about on the latter, and more yachts coming slowly up the river.
There is a navigation across Salhouse Broad to Salhouse Staithe, but the present owner of the Broad discourages sailing upon it, and the reader is advised not to anchor or moor there. The old times when one could come and go upon the Broads as a matter of apparent right are now past.
We went to Girling’s farm, close by, to get milk, and eggs, and butter, and I may mention that Mr. Girling has comfortable rooms to let, suitable for a family, whilst the situation is unsurpassed for prettiness.
We quanted off the Broad, and found just sufficient air moving on the river to take us gently on. We had a little surprise in store for Wynne. As we came up to Wroxham Broad, I asked him to reach me something out of the cabin. When he was safe inside, I put the helm up, and we slipped through the ‘gatway’ into the Broad. When Wynne came out of the cabin, instead of the river banks, he saw the wide-stretching Broad, the Queen of the Broads, for her beauty, size, and depth of water combined.
“This is lovely. I had no idea that we had left the river. What a string of fishing boats! Are they having a match?”
“Yes. Angling matches are very favourite amusements here, and the prizes are sometimes valuable, and sometimes very miscellaneous in their nature. They are very sociable, well-conducted gatherings, and I think the Norfolk anglers would meet with old Izaak’s approbation, as being honest and peaceable men.”