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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Mystery of Cloomber"

It was as
if Nature had repented of her momentary passion and was endeavouring to
make amends to an injured world by its warmth and its sunshine. A
chorus of birds in the garden below filled the whole air with their
wonder and congratulations.
Down in the hall I found a number of the shipwrecked sailors, looking
all the better for their night's repose, who set up a buzz of
pleasure and gratitude upon seeing me.
Arrangements had been made to drive them to Wigtown, whence they were to
proceed to Glasgow by the evening train, and my father had given orders
that each should be served with a packet of sandwiches and hard-boiled
eggs to sustain him on the way.
Captain Meadows thanked us warmly in the name of his employers for the
manner in which we had treated them, and he called for three cheers from
his crew, which were very heartily given. He and the mate walked down
with us after we had broken our fast to have a last look at the scene of
the disaster.
The great bosom of the bay was still heaving convulsively, and its waves
were breaking into sobs against the rocks, but there was none of that
wild turmoil which we had seen in the early morning. The long, emerald
ridges, with their little, white crests of foam, rolled slowly and
majestically in, to break with a regular rhythm--the panting of a tired
monster.
A cable length from the shore we could see the mainmast of the barque
floating upon the waves, disappearing at times in the trough of the sea,
and then shooting up towards Heaven like a giant javelin, shining and
dripping as the rollers tossed it about.


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