he told me, his head began to feel streaky from looking at the tide so long. He said there was long streaks of white running it; like wall-paper that hadn’t been properly pasted up, he said. The streaks, they would run with the tides, north and south, twice a day, accordin’ to them currents, and he’d lie down on the planking—it was a screw-pile Light—with his eye to a crack and watch the water streaking through the piles just so quiet as hogwash.
This is from “The Disturber if Traffic”, collected in Many Inventions, the story of a light-house keeper in eastern waters.
He is driven crazy by the tidal streaks in the water. He decides they are caused by shipping, and sets a row of lights in the fairway to block their passage.
They come and take him away, and at home away from the streaky waters he leads a peaceful Life as a boatman at Gosport,