As Ted said loyally , `` It was just as good as the candy in the box and had more ` chew ' to it besides . '' The Magical Bond of the Sea A late September wind from the northwest was sweeping over the waters of Racicot Harbour . It blew in , strong with the tang of the salt seas , past the grim lighthouse rock on the one hand and the sandbars on the other , up the long , narrow funnel of darkly blue water , until it whistled among the masts of the boats at anchor and among the stovepipe chimneys of the fishing village . It was a wind that sang and piped and keened of many things -- but what it sang to each listener was only what was in that listener 's heart . And Nora Shelley , standing at the door of her father 's bleached cottage on the grey sands , heard a new strain in it . The wind had sung often to her of the outer world she longed for , but there had never been the note of fulfilment in it before . There 's a new life beyond , Nora , whistled the wind . A good life -- and it 's yours for the taking . You have but to put out your hand and all you 've wished for will be in your grasp . Nora leaned out from the door to meet the wind . She loved that northwest gale ; it was a staunch old friend of hers . Very slim and straight was Nora , with a skin as white as the foam flakes crisping over the sands , and eyes of the tremulous , haunting blue that deepens on the water after a fair sunset . But her hair was as black as midnight , and her lips blossomed out with a ripe redness against the uncoloured purity of her face . She was far and away the most beautiful of the harbour girls , but hardly the most popular . Men and women alike thought her proud . Even her friends felt themselves called upon to make excuses for her unlikeness to themselves . Nora had dosed the door behind her to shut in the voices . She wanted to be alone with the wind while she made her decision . Before her the sandy shingle , made firm by a straggling growth of some pale sea-ivy , sloped down to the sapphire cup of the harbour . Around her were the small , uncouth houses of the village -- no smaller or more uncouth than the one which was her home -- with children playing noisily on the paths between them .
The mackerel boats curtsied and nodded outside ; beyond them the sharp tip of Sandy Point was curdled white XXXXX seagulls .
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