Дэвид Копперфильд

Tempest

           

           Iputupattheoldinn,andwentdowntolookatthesea;staggeringalongthestreet,whichwasstrewnwithsandandseaweed,andwithflyingblotchesofsea-foam;afraidoffallingslatesandtiles;andholdingbypeopleImet,atangrycorners.Comingnearthebeach,Isaw,notonlytheboatmen,buthalfthepeopleofthetown,lurkingbehindbuildings;some,nowandthenbravingthefuryofthestormtolookawaytosea,andblownsheeroutoftheircourseintryingtogetzigzagback.

           Joiningthesegroups,Ifoundbewailingwomenwhosehusbandswereawayinherringoroysterboats,whichtherewastoomuchreasontothinkmighthavefounderedbeforetheycouldruninanywhereforsafety.Grizzledoldsailorswereamongthepeople,shakingtheirheads,astheylookedfromwatertosky,andmutteringtooneanother;ship-owners,excitedanduneasy;children,huddlingtogether,andpeeringintoolderfaces;evenstoutmariners,disturbedandanxious,levellingtheirglassesattheseafrombehindplacesofshelter,asiftheyweresurveyinganenemy.

           Thetremendousseaitself,whenIcouldfindsufficientpausetolookatit,intheagitationoftheblindingwind,theflyingstonesandsand,andtheawfulnoise,confoundedme.Asthehighwaterywallscamerollingin,and,attheirhighest,tumbledintosurf,theylookedasiftheleastwouldengulfthetown.Astherecedingwavesweptbackwithahoarseroar,itseemedtoscoopoutdeepcavesinthebeach,asifitspurposeweretounderminetheearth.

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