Prev | Current Page 150 | Next

MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Seaboard Parish Volume 3"

Some of these people
are not far derived from those who thought a wreck a Godsend."
A sound of many feet was at the door just as we turned to leave the house.
They were bringing another body--that of an elderly woman--dead, quite
dead. Turner had ceased examining her, and we were going out together,
when, through all the tumult of the wind and waves, a fierce hiss,
vindictive, wrathful, tore the air over our heads. Far up, seawards,
something like a fiery snake shot from the high ground on the right side of
the bay, over the vessel, and into the water beyond it.
"Thank God! that's the coastguard," I cried.
We rushed through the village, and up on the heights, where they had
planted their apparatus. A little crowd surrounded them. How dismal the sea
looked in the struggling moonlight! I felt as if I were wandering in the
mazes of an evil dream. But when I approached the cliff, and saw down below
the great mass, of the vessel's hulk, with the waves breaking every moment
upon her side, I felt the reality awful indeed.


Pages:
138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162