"You've never seen a Shetland storm, young gentlemen," he said, "but
you may see one to-day and to-morrow, too, for I doubt if you will get
away from here as soon as you expected. I see the ladies coming out; it
might be well to go and tell them."
"Come along, Madeleine! Hurry, Ethel!" cried Martin; "you will soon see
the sight we have longed for--a storm at sea. Eric says there is one
brewing."
The ladies looked incredulous, and Mr. Morton put on his double
eye-glasses, and looked around with the air of one who more than half
suspects he is being taken in.
It was a still, lovely summer morning. The sea was as calm as a village
brook; the waves lazily played upon the shore, and the breeze scarcely
stirred the little flag which Eric had mounted on his boat in honor of
the visitors.
Presently, however, the dark clouds came up in rapid procession; the
surf began to sigh and moan; the sea-fowls caught the sound, and cried
as they only cry when the ocean is angry. The boats lying out hoisted
sail and scudded away for the nearest haven of shelter. Then a white
line of light rose up sharply against the black bank of clouds, and the
still sea became covered with white-crested waves. The quiet shore rang
again with the booming of waters, as they leapt against the rocks and
broke in foaming spray.
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