Undine followed him, but now she felt a faint, weary feeling coming over her. Her beauty was going, and her lovely colours changing to a gray, inky hue. The river was forcing its way down against them, and she and Surger were soon glad to follow old Lobster Pot down the river again. Back they went, past the fields, and soon they felt the pure sea breeze, and lent a hand to swing the huge ships round at their moorings under the cliffs. They were glad enough to escape from the dull, cold river that was rushing after them, and sweep round the headland into the good salt sea, where they could feel alive again, free and joyous, and afraid of no one in their own country. Many a time did they run up rivers like that, and Undine looked out for the little blue-eyed boy; but she never saw him. Sometimes they went out to the wide ocean, or visited the coast towns with Mora, and splashed the ladies bathing, and made them scream and laugh. Always Undine was looking for her little friend, but she never saw him. Many were the journeys she made, and wonderful were the sights she saw; indeed, one could fill a book with all that Undine did and saw when she grew up and became a wave. It was now October, and had been wonderfully warm, close weather for the time of the year. The waves were rolling lazily about out at sea some three miles from the land. They arched their huge backs and pressed silently after each other, doing "Serpent drill," as they called it, and weary work it was. The little waves were slapping at each other angrily, for no better reason than that they had been told not to, but had nothing else to do. They all seemed uneasy and troubled, yet Undine could not have told you why she felt in such a strange condition of pent-up excitement. A rumour ran round that there was to be a Storm War that evening, and almost before they had begun to discuss whether this was likely to be true, the clouds lowered, the sky grew black and dismal, the wind trumpeted out shouts of battle, huge waves bigger than old Lobster Pot rushed up the channel in answer to the summons, and the whole sea was one seething angry mass of cruel waves bent on destruction. Now the great battalions of the Sea Wolves, as they call their fiercest fighting waves, came thundering up from the Atlantic, breaking all before them. Undine had never seen such wild, handsome fellows before. Everyone joined them, and soon the sea was nothing but a reckless mob of madly enraged waves, moaning and wailing horribly in a frenzy of rage. Down came the sleet and hail in sharp volleys, as though from a battery of artillery, which had taken up its position behind the thick clouds. A solitary storm bird was driven before the wet rushing wind, with stiff wings and bent claws, squealing miserably, as though to warn the vessels of their doom.