The Funeral
Early in the morning we both got up and went down to the harbour to see if anything had happened in the night. There were very few people about. The sun was bright, and the air clear and fresh. Big, ugly-looking waves forced themselves in through the mouth of the harbour like a man shoving through a crowd. The waves seemed very dark because the foam on the top of them was like snow. Somehow I felt glad that Jonathan was not on the sea last night, but on land. But, oh, is he on land or sea? Where is he, and how is he? I am getting very worried about him. If only I knew what to do, or if I can do anything!