Jutlan - Simon day

"It was an excellent sermon to-day. If we had not our Lord we should
have nothing."

"Yes," said the wife, "He sends joy, and He sends affliction. He is
right in all things. To-morrow our little boy would have been five
years old if he had been spared to us."

"There is no use in your grieving for his loss," replied the husband.
"He has escaped much evil. He is now where we must pray to be also
received."

They dropped the painful subject, and pursued their way towards their
house amidst the sand-hills. Suddenly, from one of these where there
was no lyme-grass to keep down the sand, there arose as it were a
thick smoke. It was a furious gust of wind, that had pierced the
sand-hill, and whirled about in the air the fine particles of sand.
The wind veered round for a minute; and all the dried fish that was
hung up on cords outside of the house knocked against its walls, then
everything was still again. The sun was shining warmly.

The man and his wife entered their house, and having soon divested
themselves of their Sunday clothes, they hastened over the sand-hills,
which stood like enormous waves of sand suddenly arrested in their
course. The sea-reed's and the lyme-grass's blue-green sharp blades
gave some variety to the white sand. Some neighbours joined the couple
who had just come from church, and they assisted each other in
dragging the boats higher up the beach. The gale was increasing; it
was bitterly cold; and when they were returning over the hills, the
sand and small stones whisked into their faces, the waves[8] mounted
high with their white crests, and the spray dashed after them.

It was evening; there was a doleful whistling in the air, increasing
every moment—a wild howling, as if a host of unseen despairing
spirits were uttering their complaints. The moaning sound overpowered
even the angry dashing of the waves, although the fisherman's house
lay so near to the shore. The sand drifted against the windows, and
every now and then came a blast that shook the house to its
foundation. It was very dark, but the moon would rise at midnight.

The air cleared; yet the storm still raged in all its might over the
deep gloomy sea. The fishermen and their families had retired for some
time to rest, but no one could close his eyes in such terrible
weather. Some one knocked at the windows of some of the cottages, and
when the doors were opened the person said,—

"A large ship is lying fast upon the outer shoal."

In a moment the fishermen and their wives were up and dressed.

The moon had risen, and there was light enough to see if they had not
been blinded by the sand that was flying about. The wind was so strong
that they were obliged to lie down, and creep amidst the gusts over
the sand-hills; and there flew through the air, like swan's down, the
salt foam and spray from the sea, which, like a roaring, boiling
cataract, dashed upon the beach. A practised eye was required to
discern quickly the vessel outside. It was a large ship; it was lifted
a few cable lengths forward, then driven on towards the land, struck
upon the inner sand-bank, and stood fast. It was impossible to go to
the assistance of the ship, the sea was running too high: it beat
against the unfortunate vessel, and[9] dashed over her. The people on
shore thought that they heard cries of distress—cries of those in the
agony of death; and they saw the desperate, useless activity on board.
Then came a sea that, like a crushing avalanche, fell upon the
bowsprit, and it was gone. The stern of the vessel rose high above the
water—two people sprang from it together into the sea—a moment, and
one of the most gigantic billows that were rolling up against the
sand-hills cast a body upon the shore: it was that of a female, and
every one believed it was a corpse. Two women, however, knelt down by
the body, and thinking that they found in it some sign of life, it was
carried over the sand-hills to a fisherman's house. How beautiful she
was, and how handsomely dressed!—evidently a lady of rank.