So narrow is the strip of shingle that lies between the sea and the cliffs in Saint Margaret’s Bay, that the cottages have been built close up to the latter—much too close, we venture to think, for safety; but perhaps men who live in constant peril of their lives, count the additional risk of being crushed along with their families under twenty or thirty tons of chalk, unworthy of consideration!
On descending to the beach the first thing our party saw was the burly figure of Coleman seated on his “donkey” by the “sad sea waves.”
It must not be supposed that the coast-guard-man was literally astride of a live ass! No; his “donkey” was an exceedingly ingenious contrivance invented specially for the use of a class of men who, being human, cannot avoid becoming fatigued—yet who, being sentinels, must not on any account whatever be permitted to encourage sleep.
The men of the coast-guard are subject to prolonged and frequent periods of watching, by night as well as by day, hence they are liable to become wearied. It has been wisely considered that the most self-denying mortal alive will, when hard pressed, sit down on a rock or on the ground, if need be, just to relieve his legs a little. The same wise consideration has recalled the fact that when men do this they become helplessly incapable of resisting the drowsy god, and will assuredly go to sleep, against their will and their judgment.
To meet this case, some truly great mind invented the “donkey.” This contrivance is simply a stool with one leg. The top of the stool is not round, but oblong, and very small. A hole in the centre receives the solitary leg, which is attached to it by a piece of cord, and can be pulled out when occasion requires, and the machine thrown over the arm as one would throw a cloak or scarf. The beauty of the donkey is, that it forms an excellent seat on which a man can balance himself and rest with great comfort as long as he keeps awake; but should he fall asleep, even for one instant, he infallibly comes to the ground with a shock so severe that he is quite certain to remain wakeful during the remainder of his vigil!
“What, ho! Coleman,” cried Bax, as he and his friends drew near, “have you actually acquired the art of sleeping on a donkey?”
Coleman rose and turned round with a good-humoured smile on his ruddy visage:
“Nay, not quite that,” said he, “but the hiss of the waves is apt to dull the hearin’ a bit, an’ one don’t naturally look for enemies from land’ard, d’ye see?”
“Mayhap not,” said Bluenose, taking a fresh quid of tobacco out of a brass box which he carried at all times in his waistcoat pocket; “but I expect an enemy from seaward to-night who’ll be oncommon glad to make your acquaintance, no doubt!”
Here the Captain chuckled, engulfed his fresh quid, and proceeded to explain the nature of their errand. Having done so, he asked Coleman what he thought of it.