Edmund Blunden

Biographical details

Edmund Blunden The Bonadventure: A Random Journal of an Atlantic Holiday

The wind drove the water, hereabouts of a jade green colour, into long waves and their fine manes of spray, upon which the sun made many a small and fleeting rainbow. With this head wind piping, and the cargo, it seemed, having shifted lately, the ship had an uncomfortable list to port and swayed as she went. “Here, you,” cried Meacock to me, “your extra weight on the port side’s doing this.” “Yes, it’s perfectly plain he is the Jonah of the voyage.”
A dozen big black birds appeared as travelling companions, white-breasted and easy-going.
Source: Gutenberg

Edmund Blunden The Bonadventure: A Random Journal of an Atlantic Holiday

An occasional whistle from the bridge would summon hurrying feet up the ladder; the striking of the bell made Time’s pace perceived. Bicker would sometimes interrupt his large stories to show me, or to try to show me, remote or tiny curiosities floating past the ship. Perhaps a shoal of young porpoises bobbing along portended a slight squall, its approach yielding those ever remarkable lights that mark broken rain, lily-of-the-valley green, and on the waters a silver glitter, while a shadow drooped over all. The third mate’s drying-ground was speedily cleared at these times.
Source: Gutenberg

Edmund Blunden The Bonadventure: A Random Journal of an Atlantic Holiday

On dark blue ridge of surly water and on snowy coronal, the broken arc of the rainbow was for ever flickering, just beyond the uncertain shadow of the ship. The lively wind, meanwhile, as if by a sudden stronger impulse, would whirl the green toppling seas over the lower deck, and the light cold spray as high as the bridge. Here, I thought, was a lyric indeed; and so, it looked, thought the gulls that disported about the ships, and the shoals that, I fancied, like those of any small stream, would be up to enjoy the sun.
Source: Gutenberg

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