The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
The heaven opened, or rather seemed to be cloven by a sword-sweep, and a
solid mass of lightning fell, with a cone like a red-hot anvil. The ring
of black rocks received its weight, and leaped like a boiling caldron,
while the stormy waters rose into a hiss and heap of steam. Then the
crash of heaven stunned me.
When I came to myself it was raining as if it had never rained before.
The rage of sand and air was beaten flat beneath the rain, and the
fretful lifting of the sea was hushed off into bubbles. What to do I
could not tell, in spite of all experience, but rubbed the sand from
both my eyes, as bad as the beard of an oyster, and could see no clear
way anywhere.
Now the sky was spread and traversed with a net of crossing fires, in
and out like mesh and needle, only without time to look. Some were
yellow, some deep red, and some like banks of violet, and others of a
pale sweet blue, like gazing through a window. They might have been very
beautiful, and agreeable to consider, if they had been further off, and
without that wicked crack of thunder through the roar. Worse storms I
had seen, of course, in the hot world and up mountains, and perhaps
thought little of them; but then there was this difference, I had always
plenty of fellows with me, and it was not Sunday. Also, I then was
young, and trained for cannons to be shot at me. Neither had I a boat of
my own, but my dear wife was alive.
These considerations moved me to be careful of my life--a duty which
increases on us after the turn of the balance; and seeing all things
black behind me, and a world of storm around, knowing every hole as I
did, with many commendations of myself to God for the sake of Bunny, in
I went into a hole under a good solid rock, where I could watch the sea,
and care for nothing but an earthquake.
CHAPTER X.
UNDER THE ROCK.
For a while the power of the lightning seemed to quench the wind almost,
and one continuous roar of thunder rang around the darkness. Then, with
a bellow, the wind sprang forth (like a wild bull out of a mountain),
and shattered the rain and drowned the thunder, and was lord of
everything. Under its weight the flat sea quivered, and the crests flew
into foam, and the scourge upon the waters seemed to beat them all
together. The whirlwinds now were past and done with, and a violent gale
begun, and in the burst and change of movement there appeared a helpless
ship.
She was bearing towards Pool Tavan, as poor Bardie's boat had done, but
without the summer glory and the golden wealth of waves. All was smooth
and soft and gentle, as the moonlight in a glass, when the little boat
came gliding with its baby captain. All was rough and hard and furious
as a fight of devils, when that ship came staggering with its load of
sin and woe. And yet there had not been so much as twenty-four hours
between the two.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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