{"product_id":"2940013704107","title":"Out of the Sea","description":"It was about ten o'clock on a November morning in the little village\u003cbr\u003eof Blea-on-the-Sands. The hamlet was made up of some thirty houses,\u003cbr\u003ewhich clustered together on a low rising ground. The place was very\u003cbr\u003epoor, but some old merchant of bygone days had built in a pious mood a\u003cbr\u003elarge church, which was now too great for the needs of the place; the\u003cbr\u003enave had been unroofed in a heavy gale, and there was no money to\u003cbr\u003erepair it, so that it had fallen to decay, and the tower was joined to\u003cbr\u003ethe choir by roofless walls. This was a sore trial to the old priest,\u003cbr\u003eFather Thomas, who had grown grey there; but he had no art in\u003cbr\u003egathering money, which he asked for in a shamefaced way; and the\u003cbr\u003evicarage was a poor one, hardly enough for the old man's needs. So the\u003cbr\u003echurch lay desolate.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe village stood on what must once have been an island; the little\u003cbr\u003eriver Reddy, which runs down to the sea, there forking into two\u003cbr\u003echannels on the landward side; towards the sea the ground was bare,\u003cbr\u003efull of sand-hills covered with a short grass. Towards the land was a\u003cbr\u003esmall wood of gnarled trees, the boughs of which were all brushed\u003cbr\u003esmooth by the gales; looking landward there was the green flat, in\u003cbr\u003ewhich the river ran, rising into low hills; hardly a house was visible\u003cbr\u003esave one or two lonely farms; two or three church towers rose above\u003cbr\u003ethe hills at a long distance away. Indeed Blea was much cut off from\u003cbr\u003ethe world; there was a bridge over the stream on the west side, but\u003cbr\u003eover the other channel was no bridge, so that to fare eastward it was\u003cbr\u003erequisite to go in a boat. To seaward there were wide sands, when the\u003cbr\u003etide was out; when it was in, it came up nearly to the end of the\u003cbr\u003evillage street. The people were mostly fishermen, but there were a few\u003cbr\u003efarmers and labourers; the boats of the fishermen lay to the east side\u003cbr\u003eof the village, near the river channel which gave some draught of\u003cbr\u003ewater; and the channel was marked out by big black stakes and posts\u003cbr\u003ethat straggled out over the sands, like awkward leaning figures, to\u003cbr\u003ethe sea's brim.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFather Thomas lived in a small and ancient brick house near the\u003cbr\u003echurch, with a little garden attached. He was a kindly man, much worn\u003cbr\u003eby age and weather, with a wise heart, and he loved the quiet life\u003cbr\u003ewith his small flock. This morning he had come out of his house to\u003cbr\u003elook abroad, before he settled down to writing his sermon. He looked\u003cbr\u003eout to sea, and saw with a shadow of sadness the black outline of a\u003cbr\u003ewreck that had come ashore a week before, and over which the white\u003cbr\u003ewaves were now breaking. The wind blew steadily from the north-east,\u003cbr\u003eand had a bitter poisonous chill in it, which it doubtless drew from\u003cbr\u003ethe fields of the upper ice. The day was dark and overhung, not with\u003cbr\u003ecloud, but with a kind of dreary vapour that shut out the sun. Father\u003cbr\u003eThomas shuddered at the wind, and drew his patched cloak round him. As\u003cbr\u003ehe did so, he saw three figures come up to the vicarage gate. It was\u003cbr\u003enot a common thing for him to have visitors in the morning, and he saw\u003cbr\u003ewith surprise that they were old Master John Grimston, the richest man\u003cbr\u003ein the place, half farmer and half fisherman, a dark surly old man;\u003cbr\u003ehis wife, Bridget, a timid and frightened woman, who found life with\u003cbr\u003eher harsh husband a difficult business, in spite of their wealth,\u003cbr\u003ewhich, for a place like Blea, was great; and their son Henry, a silly\u003cbr\u003eshambling man of forty, who was his father's butt. The three walked\u003cbr\u003esilently and heavily, as though they came on a sad errand.","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47073767162096,"sku":"2940013704107","price":2.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013704107_p0.jpg?v=1763584508","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013704107","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}