Explore "The Last Entry" by W. Clark Russell on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The wind that evening freshened out of the north-west glare of sunset. The sky thickened, and some small wings of scud flew south-east, bronzed by the western splendour dimming fast. The sea ran in a cloudy green, but without weight, in the light tropic surge.
At sundown Mr. Blundell hailed the royal yard, and the answer, hoarse in tone as a seagull's scream, was: