Buse Özdemir OER material
Overview
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Not a sound anywhere. It seemed as though he could touch the distant peaks with his finger. The air was so invigorating that it filled him with a desire to run across the unbroken fields of snow and down the endless sloping plain until he had to stop and pant for a breath. Pieter felt a little cold. He put the collar of his shirt up about his neck and with the back of his hand wiped off a drop of ice which shone on his ruddy nose.
It was eleven o'clock at night. The moon was concealed by menacing clouds, and the dismal note of the fog-horn seemed to draw itself out over the silent, meditating waters, while—as we imperceptibly drew away from the dock—the shadowy forms of the piers and storage-houses would stealthily approach, become fixed and rigid for an instant, and then would glide rapidly away into the night. After a few minutes a gust of wind warned us that the ship had reached the open sea. The clanking roar of an anchor being lowered and the heavy bumping of railway carriages still came to our ears from Southampton, and then—no further earthly sound whatever unless it was the faint lapping of the tiny waves against the side of the ship. . . .