y. It was impossible to imagine a lovelier
day.

On the verge of the horizon a flight of birds of passage formed a long
dark line against the sky. They were flying fast as if alarmed.

Gilliatt set to work again to raise the breakwater.

He raised it as high as he could; as high, indeed, as the curving of the
rocks would permit.

Towards noon the sun appeared to him to give more than its usual warmth.
Noon is the critical time of the day. Standing upon the powerful frame
which he had built up, he paused again to survey the wide expanse.

The sea was more than tranquil. It was a dull dead calm. No sail was
visible. The sky was everywhere clear; but from blue it had become
white. The whiteness was singular. To the west, and upon the horizon,
was a little spot of a sickly hue. The spot remained in the same place,
but by degrees grew larger. Near the breakers the waves shuddered; but
very gently.

Gilliatt had done well to build his breakwater.

A tempest was approaching.

The elements had determined to give battle.

BOOK III

THE STRUGGLE

I

EXTREMES MEET

Nothing is more threatening than a late equinox.

The appearance of the sea presents a strange phenomenon, resulting from
what may be called the arrival of the ocean winds.

In all seasons, but particularly at the epoch of the Syzygies, at the
moment when least expected, the sea sometimes becomes singularly
tranquil. That vast perpetual movement ceases; a sort of drowsiness and
languor overspreads it; and it seems weary and about to rest. Every rag
of bunting, from the tiny streamer of the fishing-boat to the great flag
of ships of war, droops against the mast. The admiral's flag, the Royal
and Imperial ensigns sleep alike.

Suddenly all these streamers begin to flutter gently.

If there happen to be clouds, the moment has then come for marking the
formation of the _cirri_; if the sun is setting, for observing the red
tints of the horizon; or if it be night and there is a moon, for looking
attentively for the halo.

It is then that the captain or commander of a squadron, if he happen to
possess one of those storm indicators, the inventor of which is unknown,
notes his instrument carefully and takes his precautions against the
south wind, if the clouds have an appearance like dissolved sugar; or
against the north, if they exfoliate in crystallisations like brakes of
brambles, or like fir woods. Then, too, the poor Irish or Breton
fi