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And you, Bill, if you save anybody and decide to bring 'em into Brightlingsea, send up a signal-rocket as soon as you think we can see it over the land, and I'll have hot water and blankets all ready for the poor souls against they come ashore." "Ay, ay, mother; I will," replied old Bill. "Only hope we may be lucky enough to get out to 'em in time; the wind's dead in our teeth all the way.
When the sun accepted the wind's challenge to contest for the traveler's cloak, I dare say all the spectators of the novel highway robbery the moon, the stars, the trees, birds and beasts, and others that the fable does not mention took odds that the wind would snatch off the wayfarer's garment in triumph. However, the wind whipped and thrashed the poor man in vain.
As it was, the canvas seemed to him stiffer than usual, and there was a whitish haze about the northern horizon that suggested ice. The tall, olive-tinted seas ranged up in dissolving hills, the wind's whistle was shrill in the rigging.
This long gentleman looked up as the gate clicked, stretched out his legs, rose, and disappeared within the pavilion, returning after a minute with a jug of beer and a fresh tankard. "Paid off your crew already?" The little hunchback took a pull, answered "No" as he set down the tankard, and looked up at the weathercock overhead. "Wind's in the south-east."
As to the actual divergence from the wind's direction which a trail rope and side sail might be hoped to effect, it may be confidently stated that, notwithstanding some wonderful accounts that have gone abroad, it must not be relied on as commonly amounting to much more than one or, at the most, two points.
"Yes, miss," said the man deferentially. "It's a nasty day outside. I 'spect Chicago'll be mighty wet. De wind's off de lake, and de rain's comin' from all way 'twoncet." She sacrificed one of her precious quarters to get rid of the attentive porter, and started off with a brisk step down the long platform to the station.
"Oh!" exclaimed Bagger, pressing his hand upon his forehead, and, as he at the next moment seized Ingeborg's hand, added with an eye which had become dim with joy, "Truly, I have had more fortune than sense." Ingeborg answered, smiling: "That ought he to expect who entrusts his fate to the wind's flying mail." From "The Flying Mail" Translated by Carl Larsen.
"Because the sham Apostles talked such nonsense, they waked me up." The clergyman stared. Diamond saw that he had better have held his tongue, for he could not explain things. "You must have been dreaming, my little man," said he. "Dear! dear!" he went on, looking at the tree, "there has been terrible work here. This is the north wind's doing. What a pity!
"Nothin', lad, nothin'; I was only thinkin' aloud; the wind's freshenin', Billy, an' as you may have to sit a long spell at the tiller soon, try to go to sleep agin. You'll need it, my boy." In spite of himself, Gaff's tone contained so much pathos that Billy was roused by it, and would not again try to sleep. "Do let me pull an oar, daddy," he said earnestly. "Not yet, lad, not yet.
Come down to-morrow, and we'll have the story, and maybe a sail, if the wind's fair and weather fine, at any rate, the story." The children were probably the happiest children that were ever seen, as they turned about for home, showering thanks upon the Captain with such tremendous earnestness that he was forced in self-defence to cry, "Enough, enough! run home, and say no more."