The Mystery of the Sea

start at the turn of the tide; and as I came up the first of them began to pass out through the harbour mouth. Their movement was beautiful to see; at first slowly, and then g

ame hurrying along to catch his boa

ntainous masses of foam and spray. But at present, with the July sun beating down, it was a vantage post from which to see the whole harbour and the sea without. I climbed up and sat on the top, looking on admiringly, and lazily smoked in quiet enjo

d see that he was the subject of her watching. He came near where I sat, and stood

and a cap of weazel skin. I had been thinking of the decline of the herring from the action of the trawlers in certain waters, and fancied this would be a good opportunity to get a local opinion. Before long I strolled over and joined this son of the Vikings. He gave it, and it was a decided one, uncompromisingly against the trawlers and th

u sow your seed and plough the ridges and make it all safe from wind and devastatin' storm. If, when the green corn be shootin

and had found him to be throughout of golden worth. Possibly it was the imagery of his own speech and the colour which his eyes and hair and cap suggested, but he seemed to me for an instant as a small figure projected a

not at the fisherman but at me, with eyes that positively blazed with a sort of baleful e

und me, before and on either hand, was a waste of waters; the very air and earth seemed filmed with moving water, and the sound of falling waters was in my ears. Again, the golden fisherman was before me for an instant, not as a moving speck but in full size now he lay prone; limp and lifeless, with waxen cold chee

tle shawl which she wore closer round her shoulders and, with a gesture full of modesty and deference turned away. She clim

on the very edge of the pier ready to spring on a trim, weather-beaten smack which came rushing along almost grazing the rough stone work. It made our hearts jump as he sprang on board and taking t

like all these men from Uist and the rest of the O

m Gormala had prophesied! The very men

Stirling quarry when I saw Gormala sitting on the roadside on a great boulder of red granite. She was evidently looking out for me, for when I came near she rose u

m lit by the afterglow in a soft mysterious light was projected against the grey of the darkening sea, whose sombrene

n my nerves. She had become a sort of enforced condition to me, and whether she was present in the flesh or not, the expectation or the apprehension of her coming-I hardly knew which it was-kept my thoughts perpetually interested in her. Now, her weird, statuesque attitude and the scene around us finished my intellectual subjugation. The weather had changed to an almost inconceivabl

s meant by it. Gormala was certainly quick with her eyes-she had that gypsy quality in remarkable degree-and she seemed to read my face like an open book. There

the Sea and the treasures that lie hid therein." I felt more than ever abashed, and that I should have known

n a strange, staccato cadence which seemed to suit our surroundings and to

e Mystery

he secrets t

one these w

oon on a fl

loods for the

mon wi' death

what they were individually I could not even dream. The past and the present and the future seemed to be mingled in one wild, chaotic, whirling dream, from the mass of which thoughts and ideas seemed now and again to fly out unexpectedly on all sides as do sparks from hot iron under the ham

, the silent darkening land and the broo