Another three days, and no news.

6 August.--Another three days, and no news. This suspense is getting dreadful. If I only knew where to write to or where to go to, I should feel easier. But no one has heard a word of Jonathan since that last letter. I must only pray to God for patience.

Lucy is more excitable than ever, but is otherwise well. Last night was very threatening, and the fishermen say that we are in for a storm. I must try to watch it and learn the weather signs.

Today is a gray day,and the sun as I write is hidden in thick clouds, high over Kettleness. Everything is gray except the green grass, which seems like emerald amongst it, gray earthy rock, gray clouds, tinged with the sunburst at the far edge, hang over the gray sea, into which the sandpoints stretch like gray figures. The sea is tumbling in over the shallows and the sandy flats with a roar, muffled in the sea-mists drifting inland. The horizon is lost in a gray mist. All vastness, the clouds are piled up like giant rocks, and there is a 'brool' over the sea that sounds like some passage of doom. Dark figures are on the beach here and there, sometimes half shrouded in the mist, and seem 'men like trees walking'. The fishing boats are racing for home, and rise and dip in the ground swell as they sweep into the harbour, bending to the scuppers. Here comes old Mr. Swales. He is making straight for me, and I can see, by the way he lifts his hat, that he wants to talk.

I have been quite touched by the change in the poor old man. When he sat down beside me, he said in a very gentle way, "I want to say something to you, miss."

I could see he was not at ease, so I took his poor old wrinkled hand in mine and asked him to speak fully.

So he said, leaving his hand in mine, "I'm afraid, my deary, that I must have shocked you by all the wicked things I've been sayin' about the dead, and such like, for weeks past, but I didn't mean them, and I want ye to remember that when I'm gone. We aud folks that be daffled, and with one foot abaft the krok-hooal, don't altogether like to think of it, and we don't want to feel scart of it, and that's why I've took to makin' light of it, so that I'd cheer up my own heart a bit. But, Lord love ye, miss, I ain't afraid of dyin', not a bit, only I don't want to die if I can help it. My time must be nigh at hand now, for I be aud, and a hundred years is too much for any man to expect. And I'm so nigh it that the Aud Man is already whettin' his scythe. Ye see, I can't get out o' the habit of caffin' about it all at once. The chafts will wag as they be used to. Some day soon the Angel of Death will sound his trumpet for me. But don't ye dooal an' greet, my deary!"-- for he saw that I was crying--"if he should come this very night I'd not refuse to answer his call. For life be, after all, only a waitin' for somethin' else than what we're doin', and death be all that we can rightly depend on. But I'm content, for it's comin' to me, my deary, and comin' quick. It may be comin' while we be lookin' and wonderin'. Maybe it's in that wind out over the sea that's bringin' with it loss and wreck, and sore distress, and sad hearts. Look! Look!" he cried suddenly. "There's something in that wind and in the hoast beyont that sounds, and looks, and tastes, and smells like death. It's in the air. I feel it comin'. Lord, make me answer cheerful, when my call comes!" He held up his arms devoutly, and raised his hat. His mouth moved as though he were praying. After a few minutes' silence, he got up, shook hands with me, and blessed me, and said goodbye, and hobbled off. It all touched me, and upset me very much.

I was glad when the coastguard came along, with his spyglass under his arm. He stopped to talk with me, as he always does, but all the time kept looking at a strange ship."

"I can't make her out," he said. "She's a Russian, by the look of her. But she's knocking about in the queerest way. She doesn't know her mind a bit. She seems to see the storm coming, but can't decide whether to run up north in the open, or to put in here. Look there again! She is steered mighty strangely, for she doesn't mind the hand on the wheel, changes about with every puff of wind. We'll hear more of her before this time tomorrow."

Comments

[Most Significant]

“…no one has heard a word of Jonathan since that last letter. I must only pray to God for patience.”

Mina turning to prayer underlines just how distressed and powerless she feels in the face of Jonathan’s ongoing mysterious absence.

[Most Significant]

“‘There’s something in that wind and in the hoast beyont that sounds, and looks, and tastes, and smells like death. It’s in the air; I feel it comin’. Lord, make me answer cheerful when my call comes!’ He held up his arms devoutly, and raised his hat. His mouth moved as though he were praying. After a few minutes’ silence, he got up, shook hands with me, and blessed me, and said good-bye, and hobbled off.”

Mr. Swales, who was formerly railing against the hypocritical tombstones, now has a softer side to his philosophy, and actually blesses Mina before they part. I have to say that this is one heck of a scene, with the old geezer facing the oncoming storm and preparing for whatever may come. This is the first of three people (by my quick count) that she receives blessings from in person.

[Most Significant]

“I was glad when the coastguard came along, with his spy-glass under his arm.”

A slight digression on the role of the coastguard, prompted by the fact that my niece will be starting coast guard college in the fall :D

At this time, the coastguard (one word, in UK usage) was under the control of the admiralty, and was responsible for the defence of the coast, functioned as a naval reserve, watched for smuggling, and— to a lesser extent— was a lifesaving service, along with other lifesaving services, such as the Royal National Lifeboat Institute (RNLI). The coastguard had three branches: the Guard Ships (at major ports), the Permanent Cruiser Force, and the Shore Force. The coastguard patrolling the Whitby cliffs would be on the Shore Force, and was likely living at a nearby coastguard station, with a dozen other men and their families (if any) in coastguard-provided cottages. Coastguard stations also usually had housing for an officer, a watch room, an equipment store, and a boathouse. The coastguard Mina spoke with probably was not a local; the coastguard often moved men to different postings.

The old coastguard station at Robin Hoods Bay was in use during the time of Mina & Lucy’s visit: https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/yorkshire-coast/features/the-story-of-the-old-coastguard-station

Historic England backgrounder on coastguard stations: https://historicengland.org.uk/images-books/publications/iha-coastguard-stations/heag130-coastguard-stations-iha/

[Most Significant]

Two-masted schooner Airlie under full sail: https://www.communitystories.ca/v2/forman-humboldt-entrepreneur-inventor_inventeur/wp-content/uploads/sites/22/2015/10/Airlie.jpg

[Bryan Alexander]

M.S., you continue to astonish and inform.

Now I want to reread that Hardy story about smugglers to see which coastguard appears there.

[Most Significant]

*blush* Thank you!

[Most Significant]

Oh, and which Hardy story? Would it be _The Distracted Preacher_?