The rolling of the ship as the waves struck, the thought of the greasy bacon and greasy eggs - the very idea of eating - nauseated Demo.
With a sigh he stared out at the watery scene.
The sea, which had been so blue and calm early in the day, now frowned with graygreen surface and waves that reached, at times, the foot of the crowsnest. The wind blew with a sonorous tone, reminiscent of the dirges played at village funerals. And above all the sky looked down with a gray visage, pockmarked with black clouds.
From these, more and more frequently, lightning flashed to better display the scene.
Flying fish swam deep, and dolphins sported not. Gulls and terns were not to be seen.
And yet . . . .
And yet a bird flew. Battered by the wind, drenched by falling rain, its powerful wings brought it ever closer to the ship. A huge white bird . . . .
Demo eyes brightened. Could it be her? Here, in this dreadful storm!
Indeed it was.
She landed beside them, assumed the form of a goddess.