Even romantic young men who go to sea, the Sargents of this world, become in a few years the Skanes who have discovered that all the romance lies ashore, and that every voyage is a travail to be endured between one port and the next. The people of the North Atlantic coasts and islands, where the winds are strong and the waters cold, have no illusions about the sea. It is their enemy. Their lives are fixed in its grasp, they must battle for an existence, each day’s survival is a little victory; but like all wars their struggle is in great part a monotony, an eternal waiting for tides to rise, for storm to subside. So it was with the inhabitants of Marina, entrenched in their barren ravines like a beleaguered garrison, and climbing the ramparts daily now to watch for a sign of relief. At last it came, for even the North Atlantic must grow weary now and then, and pause to catch its breath for the next assault. Matthew sent the message himself, and smiled at a vision of O’Dell grumbling over the familiar SEA GOING DOWN BAROMETER THIRTY WIND LIGHT NW EXPECT GOOD LANDING CONDITIONS MORNING.
