Arthur Conan Doyle,
The Mystery of Cloomber — Chapter 11
(1889)
“ Come, come, every second may mean a human life!"We hurried down together and made our way to the beach, accompanied by a dozen or so of the inhabitants of Branksome.The gale had increased rather than moderated, and the wind screamed all round us with an infernal clamour. So great was its force that we had to put our shoulders against it, and bore our way through it, while the sand and gravel tingled up against our faces.There was just light enough to make out the scudding clouds and the white gleam of the breakers, but beyond that all was absolute darkness. ”
