wed up in the
gulf. Such was the possibility which awaited him. He accepted it, and
contemplated it sternly.

In that wreck of all his hope, to die at once would have been his
desire; to die first, as he would have regarded it--for the machinery
produced in his mind the effect of a living being. He moved aside his
hair, which was beaten over his eyes by the wind, grasped his trusty
mallet, drew himself up in a menacing attitude, and awaited the event.

He was not kept long in suspense.

A flash of lightning gave the signal; the livid opening in the zenith
closed; a driving torrent of rain fell; then all became dark, save where
the lightnings broke forth once more. The attack had recommenced in
earnest.

A heavy swell, visible from time to time in the blaze of the lightning,
was rolling in the east beyond "The Man Rock." It resembled a huge wall
of glass. It was green and without foam, and it stretched across the
wide expanse. It was advancing towards the breakwater, increasing as it
approached. It was a singular kind of gigantic cylinder, rolling upon
the ocean. The thunder kept up a hollow rumbling.

The great wave struck "The Man Rock," broke in twain, and passed beyond.
The broken wave, rejoined, formed a mountain of water, and instead of
advancing in parallel line as before, came down perpendicularly upon the
breakwater.

The shock was terrific: the whole wave became a roaring surf.

It is impossible for those who have not witnessed them to imagine those
snowy avalanches which the sea thus precipitates, and under which it
engulfs for the moment rocks of more than a hundred feet in height,
such, for example, as the Great Anderlo at Guernsey, and the Pinnacle at
Jersey. At Saint Mary of Madagascar it passes completely over the
promontory of Tintingue.

For some moments the sea drowned everything. Nothing was visible except
the furious waters, an enormous breadth of foam, the whiteness of a
winding-sheet blowing in the draught of a sepulchre; nothing was heard
but the roaring storm working devastation around.

When the foam subsided, Gilliatt was still standing at his post.

The barrier had stood firm. Not a chain was broken, not a nail
displaced. It had exhibited under the trial the two chief qualities of a
breakwater; it had proved flexible as a hurdle and firm as a wall. The
surf falling upon it had dissolved into a shower of drops.

A river of foam rushing along the zigzags of the defile subsided as it