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Oxenham, John, 1852-1941

"A Maid of the Silver Sea"

"
From where they sat the sea seemed perfectly calm, a level plain of
deepest blue, with pale green streaks under the rocks and dark purple
patches further out, its surface just furrowed with tiny wind-ripples,
and underneath, a long slow heave like the breathings of the spirit of
the deep. But, smooth as the blue plain seemed, wave met rock with roar
and turmoil, and between that outlying peak and the shore the waters
tore and foamed with wild white crests--tumbling green ridges that were
never two seconds the same. While all along the great black base of the
peak the white waves rushed like mighty rockets, flinging long white
arms up its ragged sides and crashing together at the end in dazzling
bursts of foam.
"Wonderful!" said Gard. "I've lain here for hours watching it."
"I've swum it," said Nance quietly.
"So've I," said Bernel.
"Never! You two? I wonder you came back alive!"
"On the slack it's not so bad, and at half ebb."
"And what is there to see when you get there?"
"Oh, just rocks, and puffins and gulls. You can hardly walk without
stepping on them.


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