Lost In The Fog

Immediately in front of them arose a vast cliff, --black, rocky, frowning, --that ascended straight up from the deep water, its summit lost in the thick fog, its base white with the foaming waves that thundered there. A hoarse roar came up from those breaking waves, which blended fearfully with the whistle of the wind through the rigging, and seemed like the warning sound of some dark, drear fate. The cliff was close by, and the schooner had been steering straight towards it. So near was it that it seemed a though one could have easily tossed a biscuit ashore.