THE wind's will 



]23 



end of the wedge pushed up so high that, 

 unable to sustain itself, it curls, bends for- 

 ward and downward, and breaks into foam 

 as it falls. Almost always it is pushed ahead 

 by the drive of the wind against it, the heavier 

 base not being able to keep up with the crest; 

 and in stormy weather it is frequently whipped 

 away by the winds and driven through the air 

 for long distances in the form of flying spray. 

 In an ordinary gale of wind these white caps 

 ("Flocks of Proteus" is the pedant's phrase 

 for them) are to be seen in every direction, 

 breaking usually with regularity, and flecking 

 with white the whole surface of the sea. 



Very beautiful from the ship do these crests 

 appear. We watch them flashing in spots of 

 light hour after hour, and think of the ocean 

 as at play in the sunlight, when in reality it is 

 simply being buffeted by the winds. The waves 

 dash here and there as though frightened and 

 in their eagerness to escape sometimes break 

 against each other, often confounding confusion 

 in a small roar of foam. 



But there is another side to this white- 

 capped ocean that no man knows so well as 

 the swimmer who has wrestled with it. With 

 eyes down at the water's edge, and head rid- 

 ing up the slope of an oncoming wave, the 



White caps. 



How they 

 break. 



Appearance 

 of white 

 caps. 



The swim- 

 mer in a 

 dioppi) sen. 



