The load was getting lighter and after a time Lister let go the wheel and wiped his wet face.

He could stand on the platform without support, the plunges were easy and regular.

Calling a man to relieve him, he went to the door.
The sea was white, but it no longer ran in crested ridges and a vague dark line crossed the foam ahead.

Sometimes part of the line vanished and reappeared like a row of dots with broad gaps between.

Lister knew it was breakwater.