When
the tide went out--as it did seemingly with no intention of coming
back, it went so far--the long level sands were spotted with groups of
fisherfolk, who dug with pitchforks for sand-eels; while in among the
rocks an army of children gleaned great harvests of a kind of seaweed,
which served for food when times were hard.
These rocks were the seaward barrier and break-water of the little
port, and did their duty well when, as now, they were tried by the
full force of a westerly gale. It is blowing great guns; the hardy
sheep that usually browse upon the upland slopes must starve perforce
to-day--they cannot stand upon the steep incline; the cocks and hens
of the cottagers take refuge to leeward of their homes; every gust is
laden with atoms of sand or stone, which strike like hail or small
shot upon the face. See how the waves dash in at the outlying rocks,
hurrying onward like blood-hounds in full cry, scuffling, struggling,
madly jostling one another in eagerness to be first in the fray;
joining issue with tremendous crash, only to be spent, broken,
dissipated into thin air. Overhead the sky changes almost with the
speed of the blast; sometimes the sun winks from a corner of the
leaden clouds and tinges with glorious light the foam-bladders as they
burst and scatter around their clouds of spray; in between the
headlands the sea is churned into creaming froth, as though the
housewives of the sea-gods with unwearying arms were whipping "trifle"
for some tremendous bridal-feast.
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