Algy discovered that sitting on the hard, cold rock became rather uncomfortable after a while, so he found himself a much softer seat, although admittedly it also seemed to be much damper and stickier. Just as in Longfellow’s poem, large masses of seaweed had recently found repose on the beach:

          When descends on the Atlantic
                 The gigantic
          Storm-wind of the equinox,
          Landward in his wrath he scourges
                 The toiling surges,
          Laden with seaweed from the rocks:

          From Bermuda’s reefs; from edges
                Of sunken ledges,
          In some far-off, bright Azore;
          From Bahama, and the dashing,
          Surges of San Salvador;

          From the tumbling surf, that buries
                The Orkneyan skerries,
          Answering the hoarse Hebrides;
          And from wrecks of ships, and drifting
                Spars, uplifting
         On the desolate, rainy seas; —

         Ever drifting, drifting, drifting
                On the shifting
         Currents of the restless main;
         Till in sheltered coves, and reaches
               Of sandy beaches,
         All have found repose again.

[Algy is quoting from Seaweed, a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.]


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