The shining sands that I had crossed so easily but a while
before had disappeared; the ocean, which had then been so far away, now
covered them, and was on a level with the step on which my feet rested.
The blueness of the water had gone,--it was lead-coloured, to match the
sky,--and great angry, white-crested, curling waves came rolling in,
tumbling over and over each other in a mad race to dash themselves
against the rock on which I sat, throwing up each time a heavy shower
of white, foamy spray. It was the touch of this spray on my face that
had wakened me; and to my horror, the water was dancing and gurgling at
my very feet!
In a flash I realised that I was in great danger,--entirely cut off from
the land, and on a rock that was under water at high tide!
"Oh, it can't be! it _can't_ be!" I cried aloud, standing up and looking
wildly around; and as I did so, a big wave broke over my feet.
With a scream I scrambled back on the ledge, and stood there, clinging
to the jagged points of the rock, while I called for help at the top of
my voice. I shouted, and shrieked, and yelled, until I was hoarse, and
the cries were driven back into my throat by the wind; but all that
answered me was the roar of the storm and the screams of the sea gulls
as they flew by.
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