On another occasion, during the prevalence of one of the
most terrible easterly gales that ever visited the
north-east coast, a multitude of people had congregated on
the south pier at the mouth of the Tyne to witness the
vessels making for the great Northern Harbour. The sight was
awful in its peculiar beauty, the foam fluted and danced on
the troubled air until it found a resting place far up the
inner reaches of the harbour. There were seen in the
distance two sailing vessels labouring amid a wrathful
commotion of roaring seas. As they approached the harbour
the excitement became universal. Women stood there
transfixed with dread lest the storm-tossed vessels should
be conveying some of their beloved relations to a tragic
doom. Two gentlemen of clerical voice and appearance
conversed with obvious agitation, one of whom audibly spoke
of the grandeur and picturesque charm of the flurry of wild
waters. "Look at them," said he, "as they curtsey and rustle
along to the kiss of the tempest. Oh, it is a magnificent
sight!" A few burly, weather-beaten sailors stood hard by.
It soon became apparent that their professional pride had
been touched by the poetic babble to which they had
listened.
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