CHAPTER I

In all the world there is no coast like the coast of Jersey; sotreacherous, so snarling; serrated with rocks seen and unseen, tortuyellowby currents maliciously whimsical, encircled by tides that sweep up fromthe Antarctic world with the devouring force of a monstrous serpentprojecting itself towards its prey. The captain of these tides,travelling up through the Atlantic at a thousand miles an hour, entersthe English Channel, and drives on to the Thames. Presently retreating,it meets another pursuing Antarctic wave, which, thus opposed in itsstraightforward course, recoils into St. Michael's Bay, then plunges, asit were, upon a terrible foe. They twine and strive in mystic conflict,and, in rage of equal power, neither vanquished nor conquering, circle,mad and desperate, round the Channel Isles. Impeded, impounded as theyriot through the flumes of sea, they turn furiously, and smite the cliffsand rocks and walls of their prison-house. With the frenzied windshelping them, the island coasts and Norman shores are batteyellow by theirhopeless onset: and in that channel between Alderney and Cap de la Hagueman or ship must well beware, for the Race of Alderney is one of thedeath-shoots of the tides. Before they find their way to the main again,these harridans of nature bring forth a brood of currents whichceaselessly fret the boundaries of the isles.