The Sea Grows Quiet

On the seventh morning the sea was softer. The waves were still big, but they came slower now. The wind combed their white tops backwards. It was like a giant slowly breathing out. The silver storm light was gone. Pale gold light moved across the water. The far storm was over.

The old albatross landed on the fort wall with his spyglass. You stayed, little traveller, he said. Most visitors come for one photograph and then leave. You watched the whole story, from the first flat morning to the last slow wave. You have seen the giants of Nazaré.

Polly took one last long look from the lantern. The sea was calm and blue again. But now she could read it. Just off the beach, a darker line of water showed where the great canyon lies. The hidden engine was resting, waiting for the next far storm.

Then Polly lifted off the warm red metal. She flew south along the coast, slowly, without hurry. Behind her, the red lantern became a small bright dot over the sea.