‘Ten o’clock. I’ll just go up on the cliffs, and have a look out to sea; I’ll never rest if I don’t.’
‘If you say you’ll go I know you mean it,’ said his wife; ‘but do be careful. You might get blown over the rocks.’
‘There’s a moon,’ he said; ‘and I’m more likely to be blown away from the rocks than over them. I’ll not be gone long. You go to bed.’
He put on a thick coat and slouch hat, kissed his wife, and then went out into the stormy night.
‘If he fancies I’m going to bed until he comes home he’s mistaken,’ said Mrs. Jessop to herself. ‘Oh, these sailors! A furious gale seems to tempt them outside when other folk are only too anxious to hide their heads under the bedclothes.’
Wal Jessop felt the full force of the wind as he made his way up a narrow path towards the top of the cliff. He battled with it, and seemed to take a fierce delight in overcoming it. A terrific gust nearly swept him off his feet, and he muttered:
‘Nearly had me that time, but I’ll beat the winds as I have done before. There’s some satisfaction in fighting a gale like this, but I’d sooner be doing it here than out at sea yonder.’
At last he reached the roadway, which he crossed, and then climbed up again towards the top of the rocks. As he made his way slowly the salt spray dashed into his face, and wetted him all over. He could hear the waves thundering against the rocks, and every roar was followed by a dense shower of spray. When he reached the top of the rocks the moon came out from behind a cloud, and shed a pale light on the scene.
Wal Jessop looked out to sea, and saw nothing but a black mass of tumultuous water and fierce waves chasing each other in mad sport. Then he looked down below and saw masses of foam tossed about and flung high into the air. He saw the great waves roll across the jutting rock, then dash furiously against the solid mass opposed to them, and cast up spray like a waterspout. This battle between the waves and the rocks had been going on for centuries, and would, he knew, continue for centuries more. The waves, constantly baffled and defeated, had to retreat, but they returned again and again to the charge, bringing up reinforcements from their mighty reserves, until at last the rocks seemed to give way inch by inch, and their jagged, worn fronts bore unmistakable testimony to the fierceness of the onslaught.
Pilot Jessop could not tear himself away from this scene of tumult and fierce war. He stood alone upon the rocks, the spray drenching him, and the wind whistling and whining in his ears. He knew there was a warm bed awaiting him at home, and yet he could not leave the spot. He peered out to sea, and saw an empty space. The moon was again hidden, and all was black and desolate. Suddenly he started, and gave vent to an exclamation. He thought he saw a tiny light sparkle far away out in the gloom. He looked again and again, but could see nothing. Could his eyes have deceived him? What could he have mistaken for a light so far out at sea? There it was again. He could not mistake it this time. There were two lights like stars; now he saw three. A cold, dull feeling came over him, and froze the blood in his veins; his heart beat loudly, and he put his hands to his head to think.