But the tide was still rising, and very soon the biggest waves began to come quite over the rocks, rolling the big beasts over and even washing them off, and it angered them when the waves struck them, and they roared aloud, and by and by they began to go away, some disappearing beneath the water, others with heads above the surface swimming away out into the open sea, until all were gone.  Martin was sorry to lose them, but the sight of the sea tumbling and foaming on the rocks still held him there, until all the rocks but one had been covered by the waters, and this one was a great black jagged rock close to the shore, not above twenty or thirty yards from him.  Against this mass of rock the waves continued to dash themselves with a mighty noise, sending up a cloud of white foam and spray at every blow.  The sight and sound fascinated him.  The sea appeared to be talking, whispering, and murmuring, and crying out aloud to him in such a manner that he actually began trying to make out what it was saying.  Then up would come a great green wave rushing and moaning, to dash itself to pieces right before his face; and each time it broke against the rock, and rose high up it took a fantastic shape that began to look more and more the shape of a man.  Yes, it was unmistakably like a monstrous grey old man, with a vast snow-white beard, and a world of disordered white hair floating over and around its head.  At all events it was white for a moment, then it looked green—­a great green beard which the old man took with his two hands and twisted just as a washerwoman twists a blanket or counterpane, so as to wring the water out of it.

Martin stared at this strange uncouth visitor from the sea; while he in turn, leaning over the rock, stared back into Martin’s face with his immense fishy eyes.

Every time a fresh wave broke over him, lifting up his hair and garments, which were of brown seaweed and all rags and tatters, it seemed to annoy him somewhat; but he never stirred; and when the wave retired he would wring the water out once more and blow a cloud of sea-spray from his beard.  At length, holding out his mighty arms towards Martin, he opened his great, cod-fish mouth, and burst into a hoarse laugh, which sounded like the deep laughter-like cries of the big, black-backed gulls.  Still, Martin did not feel at all afraid of him, for he looked good-natured and friendly.

“Who are you?” shouted Martin at last.

“Who be I?” returned the man-shaped monster in a hoarse, sea-like voice.  “Ho, ho, ho,—­now I calls that a good un!  Why, little Martin, that I’ve knowed all along, I be Bill.  Leastways, that’s what they called me afore:  but I got promotion, and in consekence I’m called the Old Man of the Sea.”

“And how did you know I was Martin?”

“How did I know as you was Martin?  Why, bless your innocent heart, I knowed it all along of course.  How d’ye think I wouldn’t know that?  Why, I no sooner saw you there among them rocks than I says to myself, ‘Hullo,’ says I, bless my eyes if that ain’t Martin looking at my cows, as I calls ’em.  Of course I knowed as you was Martin.”