Far off, at the horizon, the sky broke—and the rift broadened—and the clouds lifted—and the east flamed with colour—and all at once the rosy, hopeful light of dawn flushed the frowning sea.
“Look!” the skipper whispered.
“Ay,” said I, “the day is broke.”
“A new day!” said he.
XII
DOCTOR AND I
How the St. Lawrence came to stray from her course down the Strait I do not remember. As concerns such trivial things, the days that followed my mother’s death are all misty in my mind; but I do recall (for when Skipper Tommy had made my mother’s coffin he took me to the heads of Good Promise to see the sight) that the big seas of that day pounded the vessel to a shapeless wreck on the jagged rocks of the Reef of the Thirty Black Devils: where she lay desolate for many a day thereafter. But the sea was not quick enough to balk our folk of their salvage: all day long—even while the ship was going to pieces—they swarmed upon her; and they loaded their punts again and again, fearlessly boarding, and with infinite patience and courage managed to get their heavensent plunder ashore. ’Twas diverting to watch them; and when the twins, who had been among the most active at the wreck, came at last to their father, I laughed to know that, as Timmie said, they had food enough ashore to keep the wrinkles out of their stomachs all winter.