When he came to the harbor's edge he found a fleecy fog had stolen in.
The horn at the harbor's mouth groaned like a sick horse. As he pulled
toward Meteor the fog by degrees stole into his very brain until he
could not rightly distinguish the present from the past, and Caddie
Sills, lean-hipped and dripping, seemed to hover in the stern.
At one stroke he pulled out of the fog. Then he saw a strong, thick
rainbow burning at the edge of the fog, a jewel laid in cotton wool.
Its arch just reached the top of the bank, and one brilliant foot was
planted on Meteor Island.
"That signifies that I shall soon be out of my trouble," he thought,
joyfully.
The fog lifted; the green shore stood out again mistily, then more
vividly, like a creation of the brain. He saw the black piles of the
herring wharf, and next the west face of the church clock, the hands and
numerals glittering like gold.
The harbor was now as calm as a pond, except for the pink and dove color
running vaporously on the back of a long swell from the south. A white
light played on the threshold of the sea, and the dark bank of
seaward-rolling fog presently revealed that trembling silver line in all
its length, broken only where the sullen dome of Meteor rose into it.
High above, two wondrous knotty silver clouds floated, whose image
perfectly appeared in the water.
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