With the sudden cooling of the atmosphere a sea fog began to form. It
appeared in isolated patches over the water, and then these patches slid
together and a white wall advanced upon us. Not a breath of air stirred;
the firs stood like flat metal outlines; the sea became as oil. The
whole scene lay as though held motionless by some huge weight in the
air; and the flames from our fire--the largest we had ever made--rose
upwards, straight as a church steeple.
As I followed the rest of our party tent-wards, having kicked the embers
of the fire into safety, the advance guard of the fog was creeping
slowly among the trees, like white arms feeling their way. Mingled with
the smoke was the odour of moss and soil and bark, and the peculiar
flavour of the Baltic, half salt, half brackish, like the smell of an
estuary at low water.
It is difficult to say why it seemed to me that this deep stillness
masked an intense activity; perhaps in every mood lies the suggestion of
its opposite, so that I became aware of the contrast of furious energy,
for it was like moving through the deep pause before a thunderstorm, and
I trod gently lest by breaking a twig or moving a stone I might set the
whole scene into some sort of tumultuous movement.
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