Although the morning was bright and sunny, the sky had clouded over entirely by the time Algy flew out upon the rocks, and the sea had grown moody and sullen. But it was fun to watch the incoming tide, even in dull weather, and Algy spent a happy hour or so watching the waves. As the spray flew up and the water surged through all the wee gullies between the rocks, Algy thought of one of his favourite sea poems:
The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep,
And round the pebbly beaches far and wide
I heard the first wave of the rising tide
Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;
A voice out of the silence of the deep,
A sound mysteriously multiplied
As of a cataract from the mountain’s side,
Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep.
So comes to us at times, from the unknown
And inaccessible solitudes of being,
The rushing of the sea-tides of the soul;
And inspirations, that we deem our own,
Are some divine of foreshadowing and foreseeing
Of things beyond our reason or control.
[Algy is quoting the poem The Sound of the Sea by the 19th century American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.]