always congenial. Whether the breeze blows north 

 or south, it is all the same. In the last gale it was 

 next to impossible to keep one's feet in the full 

 force of the wind, but the gulls sustained them- 

 selves with ease. Over the gray-green sea the 

 clouds appeared to rest like a cowl. The thunder 

 of the waves drowned all else and shut one off 

 from the world; consciousness was swallowed up 

 in the din and tumult. In vast mountainous billows 

 the swirling waters rushed for the shore and dis- 

 solved in spray. I stood in the lee of the rocks, 

 bracing myself against the gale — a reed shaken 

 by the wind — and saw flocks of coots riding at 

 ease in the maelstrom beyond. Always facing the 

 wind, they sank into the troughs and rose again, 

 were lost to view as the crests broke over them, 

 and reappeared in the old position. Ships would 

 have dragged their anchors where these coots rode 

 at ease, anchored by heaven knows what power. 



Where the surf broke with its terrible thunder, 

 countless crabs, urchins, starfish and whelk reposed 

 in the rockweed and Irish moss. Were they aware 

 of the storm ? Did the anemones shut their doors 

 or open them wider in view of a feast ? 



The marvelous pools in which they live have 



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