one morning, before he went to sleep (for he dutifully spent his nights awake at the lighthouse window), he thought, today is the day.
he slept lightly - the sleep of lizards, monarchs, the old, and the desperate grasping at their last chance.
he awoke at noon, and went to the window.
the tide was high.
but a rowboat was setting out from shore.
he put on his coat and took his beret from the hook. he dug a small money bag out from the cushion of one of the two chairs in the main room, and put it in the pocket of his coat.
he took his cane from beside the door and went down the stairs.
the boat was approaching.
two people were in the boat. a ragamuffin girl about eleven years old sat in the prow, and a runtish boy of about fifteen, just emerging from ragamuffinhood into full rascalhood, with what seemed a permanent leer on his sunbrowned face, was pulling the oars.
morneau moved to the edge of the water, to the spot he knew was best for a small boat.