My spirits fell lower and lower as I thought of these things--and the view of the lonesome little bay, when I looked about to rouse myself, only served to make me feel more uneasy still.
The last of the evening light was fading away; and over all the desolate place there hung a still and awful calm.

The heave of the main ocean on the great sandbank out in the bay, was a heave that made no sound.

The inner sea lay lost and dim, without a breath of wind to stir it.

Patches of nasty ooze floated, yellow-white, on the dead surface of the water.
Scum and slime shone faintly in certain places, where the last of the light still caught them on the two great spits of rock jutting out, north and south, into the sea.

It was now the time of the turn of the tide: and even as I stood there waiting, the broad brown face of the quicksand began to dimple and quiver--the only moving thing in all the horrid place.
I saw the Sergeant start as the shiver of the sand caught his eye.