D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 99: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CHAPTER XII. THE MESSENGER. By one of those meteorological freaks, born to tantalize man made a football to the elements in strife, there was a long break in the vaporous screen above. The clouds ‘were in more than one layer, even crossing in one case—the two trying to outrace. What had passed a point, piled up as if a sudden check had come. The broken masses took shapes and the accumulation had the air of contending columns of gigantic phantoms. The sunlight was of an unnatural tint, like flame seen through smoke. In the chasm, dazzling by the contrast all around it, Sol appeared, a dull-polished disc, flashing down separated shafts to the foaming, spray-plumed waters. In this aureole, a myriad birds, like gulls whose nests had been disturbed, not all of the sea, flew and circled, now low, now high, confused, jostling, falling over on their ‘backs tto use their claws, falling, and pur- sued by ravenous things which the storm had not weak- ened in ferocity. They screamed as to the monstrous clavichord 'to which the vessel and its trght rigging might be likened, as she ceased to roll so deeply. To the northeast, once again, the mock thunder was heard. Tihere were broad flashes, like sheet lightning. All looked in that direction, against that evanescent golden screen, forgetting that, to the west, the enemy advanced with reinforcements. There was sympathy for man above all other senti- ments. Two or more ships were seen there, all of clumsy fash- ion, low down, as if also water-logged like the Xip/uas. These had banks of oars, which caught the light like drops of quicksilver. One or two more, whose masts showed like threads, had 'their sails almost all reefed inito nothingness. (E(0) im COMMC OOS