And now, away at sea and leagues from the coast they were approaching, vast islands disclosed themselves suddenly through the sea haze, standing like giants waist deep in the ocean, whilst the coast itself with its cliffs and rocks of black basalt and dolerite shewed clear, extraordinarily clear, with every detail defined in the sunlight, from the rifts in the basalt to the gulls blowing about in legions and the great sea-geese hovering and fishing.
The coast was ferocious, and the whole country from the sea foam to the foothills looked tumbled and new, with the newness of infinite antiquity. The last thunders of creation seemed scarcely to have died away, the last throe scarcely to have ceased, leaving million-ton rock cast on rock and the new, shear-cut cliffs spitting back their first taste of the bitter sea.
“There is nowhere to land,” said the girl. She was shuddering as a dog shudders when overstrung.
“Ay, it’s a brute beast of a place,” said Bompard, “well, we must nose along on the lookout. There’s no coast but hasn’t some landing-place where a boat can push in. Y’See it’s not like a ship. A boat can go where a ship can’t.”
He shifted the helm a bit, keeping the coast parallel to them on the starboard side.
“Might those islands be better to go to?” asked she, “they couldn’t be worse than that.”
La Touche suddenly grew excited. “Bon Dieu,” cried he, “what a thing to be saying! Those islands, nothing but rocks—nothing but rocks. Here there is land, at all events, good land one can put one’s foot on; out there there’s nothing but rocks. Rather than go out there I would swim ashore—I would—”
“Oh, close up,” said Bompard, “don’t talk about swimming—maybe you’ll have to.”
“One can always drown,” said La Touche.
It was Bompard who next broke the silence.