For three days and three nights the sea had charged England
as Napoleon charged her at Waterloo. The phrase is instinctive,
because away to the last grey line of the sea there was only the look
of galloping squadrons, impetuous, but with a common purpose.
The sea came on like cavalry, and when it touched the shore it
opened the blazing eyes and deafening tongues of the artillery.
I saw the worst assault at night on a seaside parade where the sea
smote on the doors of England with the hammers of earthquake,
and a white smoke went up into the black heavens. There one
could thoroughly realise what an awful thing a wave really is.
I talk like other people about the rushing swiftness of a wave.
But the horrible thing about a wave is its hideous slowness.
It lifts its load of water l
