Harper's Round Table, August 18, 1896

Copyright, 1896, by Harper & Brothers. All Rights Reserved.

It was the day before a great storm. Any one familiar with the face of the sea could have told that. The sky was a dead, dull sheet of cold leaden-gray cloud, and the color of it was reflected in a darker shade in the vast expanse of heaving waters. From the southward and eastward long, broad, oily swells were rolling in a formidable procession. As each one swept into the shallow water close to the shore it reared itself in a curving pinnacle of gray shot with green. Then it whitened in a quivering, broken line along its crest, and rushing forward, hurled itself upon the beach in a crashing swirl of snowy foam. Not a breath of air was stirring. The atmosphere was damp and heavy, and it seemed to clog the lungs. Sounds along the shore were preternaturally clear in the intervals between the thunder-bursts of the surf, and the crowing of a cock at a farm-house half a mile away could be distinctly heard. Not a sail was to be seen except far away in the northeast, where the light canvas of a schooner showed above the wavering line of the horizon. Nearer at hand a south-bound steamer was ploughing her way seaward, rolling so perilously that the yawning throat of her fuming black smokestack lay wide open toward the land at every starboard lurch of her. The Old Sailor was sitting in his accustomed place on the pier, gazing around the horizon and shaking his head. There was no doubt that the day or the ship in sight had aroused in his mind some reminiscent train of thought. So Henry and George, who had caught sight of him, determined to join him. They walked quickly out on the pier, but before they reached their friend, he turned his head and called out,
Wot d'ye think of 't?
Of what? asked Henry, as they paused beside him.
O' the weather.
It looks as if we were going to have a severe storm, said Henry.
Werry good; werry good indeed, declared the Old Sailor, gazing around the horizon once more and indulging in one of his silent laughs. An' s'posin', he continued, I was to go fur to ax you wot quarter would the wind come in, wot'd ye say?