THE wind's will 



136 



Presently a gentle puffing of the wind is no- 

 ticeable, with a hum of the pine needles, and 

 a strange little moaning along the clefts of the 

 rocks. It may be some hours later before the 

 sky clouds over, looks ominous or " greasy " as 

 the sailors say; and the rain begins to fall. 

 With the rain the wind begins to rise. The 

 drenched pines gradually change their note 

 from a hum to a wail not unlike the sound in 

 the rigging of a ship — Wooooh ! Weee-ooooh ! 

 The rising surge on the beach begins beat- 

 ing out its regular Booooom-sh, Boooom-sh! 

 Boooom-sh ! The wall of granite against which 

 the waves go rushing gives back the hollow roar 

 of the sea — War ! Waaar ! Waaarrrr ! Out of 

 the mid-Atlantic pushed by the wind for a 

 thousand miles or more come the great seas. 

 Their impetus is something almost irresistible, 

 their weight something enormous, their striking 

 power something terrific. Higher and higher 

 they rise in the crest as they near the coast, 



"Cliffs of emerald topped with snow 

 That lifted and lifted and then let go 

 A great white avalanche of thunder." 



When they strike the rock nothing can stop 

 their upward rush save disintegration and de- 

 struction. The bulk of the wave is fended off 



How it 

 beffint. 



Rain, wind 

 and rising 

 surge. 



The great 

 seas 



