Portent by James Herbert Page A

could not quite comprehend exactly what he was seeing, for there were no rain clouds-the sky was a perfectly clear blue that faded to azure near the horizon-and the greyness was from the sea itself, a kind of swelling that gently sloped away at either end. Before he could think too hard on this, something else distracted him.
        Floating directly in front of him, level with his own face and nine yards or so away, was a shining light. It was round like a cricket ball, and about the same size too, and its edges were blurred like the sun's. It hovered there above the incline, and although it was not quite still, its position was fairly constant.
        Nello cried out and covered his eyes with his hands. 'Oh Mama, mais non,' he moaned, and wondered if the jumbie, the boobooman, had been sent to haunt him instead of his rival. The breeze from the ocean, now rising like the strong Christmas wind, snagged on his shirt.
        He peeped through his fingers and the day-star was still there as if it were studying him. But what was looming up behind this hypnotically weird light could not now be ignored, for it began to dawn on Nello just what this vast grey swelling out there on the ocean was.
        'Oh Grey,' he muttered under his breath. 'Oh goodness, oh mahn, oh Mama.'
        The wave stretched at least fifty miles from end to sloping end, but its height could not be judged from that distance. But it was high, Nello could tell that.
        He began to rise, and the ball of light rose with him, keeping level with his face. He discovered the strength wasn't in his legs and he stumbled, almost slipping down the hillside. He grabbed the tough grass blades, steadying himself, rolling forward once and clutching at the grass again, so that he was outstretched, flat on his back, watching the swiftly approaching wall of water.
        Somewhere in the town below a church bell started to peal. Another joined in. He thought he could hear human cries, but a new sound was beginning to dominate all others, a continuous hissing, like the surf rushing into shore, this sound never breaking, growing louder as the huge dark mass rolled towards the island. Yachts, motorboats, dinghies and schooners were gathered up like driftwood and carried along as it loomed over the harbour.
        The sound had become a low, thunderous rumble, and what seemed like hundreds-thousands-of birds streamed by over Nello's head, while animals-lizards, rodents, opossum and even an armadillo-scurried past him, squealing and grunting their panic.
        'I did not mean fo' this, Tantie!' Nello beseeched, hands joined together and raised towards the still blue skies.
        The wave was seventy-no, it was a hundred!-feet high, and it broke over the harbour smashing boats and buildings alike, pushing the great white passenger liner up on to the dock to flatten the customs building and everyone inside, including Nello's arch-rival in love and dominoes, who had indeed been taking tea and gloating to his colleagues over his supremacy at both games. Clyde A. Jelroyd heard the bells, he even heard the shouts outside, and then he had heard the curious rushing, rumbling sound, and when the wall opposite exploded inwards, he heard his own scream. But not for long did he hear the latter, for soon he was as flat as the Customs and Excise Regulations book he kept on his desk and had already discovered that infinity has no sound at all.
        Nello watched in absorbed horror, failing to notice that the little light had disappeared.
        As the tidal wave tore through the harbour town, smashing everything in its path, be it concrete buildings, timber frames, metal, glass, or human flesh, he wept wretchedly. For the third time that afternoon, he wailed, 'Oh mahn, oh mahn, everyt'ings turned, of mas!'
        

7
        
        They had talked through the afternoon, breaking for a late lunch, then continuing into the evening. Now it was dusk and still they