Excerpt from On the Spanish Main
Of the sea, destroyed by the fury of their own element; and here, high up the strand, beneath a bank overgrown with large-leaved plants, lies a human form, huddled, motionless.
The waves do not touch it now; the storm has ex hansted itself, the tide is ebbing. Minute by minute the sea becomes less boisterous; the strip of sand widens; the rain ceases. By and by the sun breaks through the eastern sky, and, gathering strength, disperses the linger ing clouds and flings his radiance over the scene. His beams, falling aslant through a gap in the cliffs, strike upon the draggled form on the sand; it stirs slightly, stretching itself as a leaf uncurls. At last, when the air quivers with heat, and all things lie under a shimmering haze, Dennis Hazelrig heaves a sigh, opens his eyes, and looks amazedly about him.
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