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Like this strange creature the wind wanders about , alternately ravaging or lulling into security . So the stranger would continue contemplating the sea , listening for a movement in the air , and yielding himself up to dreamy indolence . When the eyes are satiated with light and beauty , it is a luxury to close them for awhile . Suddenly the loiterer would arouse ; but it was too late . The sea had crept up step by step ; the waters surrounded the rock ; the stranger had been lured on to his death . A terrible rock was this in a rising sea . The tide gathers at first insensibly , then with violence ; when it touches the rocks a sudden wrath seems to possess it , and it foams . Swimming is difficult in the breakers : excellent swimmers have been lost at the Horn of the Bû de la Rue . In certain places , and at certain periods , the aspect of the sea is dangerous — fatal ; as at times is the glance of a woman . Very old inhabitants of Guernsey used to call this niche , fashioned in the rock by the waves , “ Gild - Holm - ’ Ur ” seat , or Kidormur ; a Celtic word , say some authorities , which those who understand Celtic cannot interpret , and which all who understand French can — “ Qui - dort - meurt : ” such is the country folks ’ translation . The reader may choose between the translation , Qui - dort - meurt , and that given in 1819 , I believe in The Armorican , by M . Athenas . According to this learned Celtic scholar , Gild - Holm - ’ Ur signifies “ The resting - place of birds . ” There is , at Aurigny , another seat of this kind , called the Monk’s Chair , so well sculptured by the waves , and with steps of rock so conveniently placed , that it might be said that the sea politely sets a footstool for those who rest there . In the open sea , at high water , the Gild - Holm - ’ Ur was no longer visible ; the water covered it entirely . The Gild - Holm - ’ Ur was a neighbour of the Bû de la Rue . Gilliatt knew it well , and often seated himself there . Was it his meditating place ? No . We have already said he did not meditate , but dream . The sea , however , never entrapped him there . BOOK II MESS LETHIERRY I A TROUBLED LIFE , BUT A QUIET CONSCIENCE Mess Lethierry , a conspicuous man in St . Sampson , was a redoubtable sailor . He had voyaged a great deal . He had been a cabin - boy , seaman , topmast - man , second mate , mate , pilot , and captain . He was at this period a ship - owner . There was not a man to compare with him for general knowledge of the sea . He was brave in putting off to ships in distress . In foul weather he would take his way along the beach , scanning the horizon . “ What have we yonder ? ” he would say ; “ some craft in trouble ? ” Whether it were an interloping Weymouth fisherman , a cutter from Aurigny , a bisquine from Courseulle , the yacht of some nobleman , an English craft or a French one — poor or rich , mattered little .
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