I was leaning against the bulwarks at eight o'clock the next morning.
White mist was all around us, a sea with no horizon. Suddenly, like the
curtain of a theatre, the mist rose. Gradually the horizon-line
appeared, then a line of low coast, which, muddy-looking as it was, made
one's heart beat thick and fast. Then lines of dark wood; then the shore
was dotted with grey huts; then the sun came out, the breeze was soft
and mild, and the air became strangely scented, and redolent of pine
forests. Nearer the coast took more shape, though it was still low,
rather bare and dotted with brushwood and grey stones low down, and
always crowned with pines. Then habitations began to sparkle along the
shore. Red roofs, cardboard-looking churches, little white wooden
houses, and stiffish trees mixed everywhere. And the pine odour on the
breeze was sweeter and sweeter with every breath one drew.
Suddenly I found Alister's arm round my shoulder.
"Isn't it glorious?" I exclaimed.
"Aye, aye," he said, and then, as if afraid he had not said enough, he
added with an effort: "The toun's built almost entirely of wood, I'm
told, with a population of close on 30,000 inhabitants.
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