The Water Was Invisible Save
Where The Long Flashing Lines Of The Surf Plunged From The Gray
Gloom.
Their immense volumes rose in pyramidal heaps, whose tops
shone white where they seemed to gather at one point
And then
their silvery lines spread slowly away on both sides as though
unseen hands were pulling them out in even terraces that broke
tip on the rocks with a deafening roar. Back of the first wave
was another, and farther back still others, that advanced to a
certain point and then spread out evenly, like terraced cascades
of purest marble.
The loud crashes of thunder mingled with the shriek of the wind,
the booming breakers became more awful, and we could imagine
unknown foes advancing to combat along the shore. Like phalanxes
with walls of silver shields they followed each other swiftly
and disappeared like a line of soldiers cut down in battle. The
howling wind and moaning waves "were like laments for the
vanquished hosts." This ceaseless welter of the elements became
more awe-inspiring as another boat appeared in the distance like
some fiery monster of the deep. It seemed the very spirit of the
sullen storm. As it drew nearer we beheld a vast fortress
besieged by the angry waves.
The desolateness of the scene was heightened by listening to
George relate his tales of storm and disaster while homeward
bound on the U. S. S. Roanoke in Mine Squadron One.
"We left England in the month of December.
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