174 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 



But now for the incident referred to. It was a 

 beautiful evening in midsummer. Nothing indicated 

 a storm or any change in the settled weather which 

 had prevailed for some time. All the fishing-boats 

 had gone to the far haaf. Suddenly a little after 

 midnight a fierce gale sprung up and raged with un- 

 wonted fury, increasing as the morning advanced, 

 while the sea rose to a height most unusual at that 

 season of the year. All the boats bore up for the 

 land as soon as the storm broke on them ; and during 

 the early part of the day all reached the shore in 

 safety — save one. She was known to be a good sea- 

 boat, and was manned by a crew of the very best 

 fishermen in the island; but as the hours crept on, 

 and there was no appearance of her return, burning 

 anxiety and suspense of wives, mothers, daughters, 

 and neighbours were fast passing into the most dismal 

 forebodings. I went out to a high promontory which 

 overlooks a wide expanse of sea, and sentinels as it 

 were the entrance to the landlocked bay where nestled 

 the humble cottages of the fishermen. A crowd of 

 distracted women, and of men scarcely less agitated, 

 who had just themselves but narrowly escaped a watery 

 grave — friends or neighbours of the missing ones — 

 were gathered on the cliff, straining their eyes across 

 the raging sea. It was a pitiful harrowing sight. 

 Who can describe the agony expressed in the firmly 

 clasped hands, the fixed and tearless eyes of one, the 

 bowed form, convulsively rocking a little one in her 

 lap, of another, the moan of breaking hearts, the wail 



