"Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago."
Â
Musing: Here are the last lines of the Chase. I can picture it all so clearly - the screaming birds - the ship sinking - the chaos and confusion and noise and then - nothing. The image of a shroud of the sea is apt since this is a funereal moment. The part that always gives me chills is how strongly this last line speaks to me. All the drama - all the deaths - all the meaning - all nothing. The sea rolls on. It always has. It always will. What are we to make of that? Wonder ye then at the fiery hunt?