and those plumes of spray we were told were ‘sea horses.’ Read on, and see
what one author made of this fanciful idea.
AFTERNOON TIDES
A stiffening breeze was pushing the deep, bottle green sea towards the beach. Short,
choppy waves curled crisply at their crests, then sank abruptly, to rise again and
break in a shower of spray on reaching the beach.
Clustered into a group roughly demarcated by the widely spaced red flags, the hardy
swimmers jumped to breast the waves, then turning, body surfed to the beach, to
stand laughing and wiping water from their eyes as they rose gasping in the
shallows. As the wind increased, the spray spiralled upwards, forming a mist of
droplets which rising, blew towards the beach in a dense curtain of vapour.
Gradually the sea emptied; family groups packed up beach paraphernalia and trailed
away. Then the lifeguards lifted the flags, stored their gear, locked the hut and went
home. The roar of evening traffic imposed a memory of the distant world onto the
peaceful scene.
Far out in the turbulent water, one lone swimmer still battled the waves. Behind him,
against the deepening twilight, a triangular fin traced lazy circles. Then, the pace
quickening, the fin moved in, directly towards the swimmer waiting for that ‘one last
wave’.
Suddenly, the water boiled around the swimmer’s legs, the fin disappeared and a
strangled cry was heard. One arm rose frantically towards the sky.
A large wave curled white-capped towards the beach, the backwash clawing the
damp sand into runnels. High-stepping out of the water, the beautiful creature
emerged, water streaming from its flanks. Clinging to the horse’s mane, and a long
red gash gushing blood from knee to ankle, the swimmer on his back gasped,
coughed, and wrapped his arms tighter around the horse’s neck.
“And they say sea-horses don’t exist,” he murmured, urging the creature towards the
barrier. Then, dismounting, he limped slowly up the beach towards the teeming
traffic.