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The sea was smooth and quiet ; deserving all those complimentary phrases which worthy citizens bestow upon it when satisfied with a trip . “ A mirror , ” “ a pond , ” “ like oil , ” and so forth . The deep blue of the sky responded to the deep green tint of the ocean . The sapphire and the emerald hues vied with each other . Each were perfect . Not a cloud on high , not a line of foam below . In the midst of all this splendour , the April sun rose magnificently . 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 fisherman , after having consulted some mysterious gnomon engraved by the Romans or by demons upon one of those straight enigmatical stones , which are called in Brittany Menhir , and in Ireland Cruach , hauls his boat up on the shore .
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