Note 257 — Chapter XXXVI

Mr. Baldrey also gives us reminiscences of Borrow's prowess as a swimmer:

'It was one of the signs of his perfect health and vigour that he was a fine swimmer. On one occasion George Jay and John Pilgrim were out for a sail in Jay's old yacht, the Widgeon. Becalmed, they were drifting somewhere down by Reedham, when suddenly Borrow said, "George, how deep is it here?" "About twenty-two feet, sir," said George Jay. The partners always called him "sir." "George," said Borrow, "I am going to the bottom." Straightway he stripped, dived, and presently came up with a handful of mud and weeds. "There, George," he said, "I've been to the bottom," Some time in 1872 or 1873, for Borrow was then sixty-nine, my mother and I were walking on the beach at Lowestoft, when just round the Ness Light we met Borrow coming: towards us from the Corton side. He got hold of my shoulder, and, pointing to the big black buoy beyond the Ness, he said, "There! Do you see that? I have just been out there. I have not been back many minutes." At the age of nearly seventy he had been round the Ness Buoy and home again—a wonderful performance if, in addition to his age, you remember the dangerous set of the currents thereabouts.'

There is also a story, which comes to me from another quarter, of Borrow skating upon the ice of Oulton Broad a few months before his death, and remarking that he had not skated since he was in Russia. The following passage from Mr. Baldrey's narrative is interesting as showing that Borrow did not in later life quite lose sight of his birthplace:

'Apparently I interested him in some way, for twice while I was at school at East Dereham he came over specially to take me out for the afternoon. He had ascertained from my mother which were the school half-holidays, and purposely chose those days so that I might be free. We would start off at half-past twelve and return at bedtime. Where we went I could not tell you for certain, but I know that once we went through Scarning and once through Mattishall. What we talked about of course I cannot recall, for I was then a boy between 13 and 15 years of age, and I had no sort of inkling that my companion was even then a celebrity and destined to be a still greater one in the future. But I do remember that sometimes I could not get a word out of him for an hour or more, and that then suddenly he would break out with all sorts of questions. "I wonder if you can see what I can," he once remarked. "Do you see that the gypsies have been here?" "No," I replied. "And you are not likely to," said he. And then he would tell me no more. He was rather prone to arouse one's curiosity and refuse to pursue the subject. I do not mean that he was morose. Far from it. He was always very kind to me. After I had left school and returned to Norwich he frequently called for me and took me out with him. Once or twice I went with him to Lowestoft.'