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Oxenham, John, 1852-1941

"A Maid of the Silver Sea"


So they were coming, after all, and this wonderful sunset might be his
last indeed;--and all the tender beauty of the fleecy clouds thinned and
paled, and the glory faded as though it had all been but a glorious
bubble, and that sharp point of white, speeding across the darkening
sea, had pricked it.
But why on earth were they coming now? They had missed the ebb, and it
was hours yet to next half-ebb, and they could not hope to land. The
white waves were boiling all along the ledges, and the sea for twenty
feet out was a surging dapple of foam laced with seething white bubbles.
It would be more than any man's life was worth to try and get ashore on
L'Etat for many an hour yet.
And there was only one boat! What had become of all the others--of the
threatened invasion in force? He sat and watched it in gloomy wonder.
The boat came racing on. As she cleared Breniere her white sail turned
to red gold, and the sea below grew purple. There was something white in
her bows. He got up heavily, doggedly, forced to it against his will,
and walked along the ridge to the eastern point which commanded the
landing-place on that side.


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