The intervening hours dragged slowly. It would be half-ebb soon after
dark, he thought; and he crept up to the ridge and gazed anxiously over
at the Race between him and Breniere, to see if it showed any unusual
symptoms after the storm.
It ran furiously enough, but, he said to himself, it would slacken on
the ebb, and they were so familiar with it that it would take more than
that to stop them coming.
Before dark the great seas were rolling past, a little quicker than
usual, he thought, but in long, smooth undulations, which slipped,
unbroken and soundless, even along the black ledges of his rock. And
when the stars came out--brighter than ever with the burnishing of the
gale--the long black backs of the waves, and the darker hollows between,
were sown so thick with trailing gleams that he could not be certain
whether it was only star-shine or phosphorescence.
It was all very peaceful and beautiful, however, and very welcome to
eyes that had not looked upon sun, moon, or star for eight whole nights
and days, and whose ears had grown hardened to the ceaseless clamour of
the gale.
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