SEA VOICES.

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 96, 24 April 1931, Page 14 (Supplement)

SEA VOICES.

(By Patricia Horan, Fair burn lioad, Otalmhu. Age 10.) Have you never heard the sott, dreamy voices among the waves on a lazy summer afternoon? Or 011 a stormy winter s day when they arc wild and sad? Little Peter heard them from the small cream house overlooking the bay. Peter was seven and not very sturdy. Perhaps that is why he was the only one who could hear them, for they were clearer in the long, lonely nights when other folk were sleeping. He would lie for hours listening, trying to distinguish words, but the voices always blended in a low, comforting murmur. Peter wondered why others couldn't hear them, hut folk only smiled when he asked them why, and said he would grow out of it. • He always shook his head. He knew that lie would never grow too old to listen to his beloved voices. One day, indeed, lie found someone who understood his voices. He had walked over the liill with his big brother to seen Aunt Mary Burns. Everyone loved Aunt Mary because she was so gentle and kind, so Ppter told lier all about the voices in the waves. "Yes," she said, "I, too, hear the sea voices, and many a. weary night have they comforted me." "I wonder where they come from?" Peter often asked. One day he asked his mother if he could go for a row with Old Sam, a iisherman, who was a great friend of his. "Yes, Peter," she answered," but don't be too long. There are—" But Peter was already running down the patli that led to the bay. . . . Peter didn't notice how the wind had sprung up, but Ham did, and lost 110 time in turning bacx. The waves were getting bigger and bigger, but they had nearly reached the shore when one of the oars snapped beneath the strain.They were swept out to sea again though Sam struggled hard with the remaining oar. He knew only too well what would happen if they were carried out. Peter was not afraid. His voices were all around him now, and they had never been so loud before. What a big wave that was—so big that it towered above them like a smooth green wall. Sweet pale faces peered through the green depths j soft green arms reached up lovingly and bore him down, down— Often in the warm summer nights the moon shines down 011 a lonely figure who sits and gazes into the calm water. "Peter, little Peter!" she cries sadly, and the voices echo from among the rippling wavelets, softly, lovingly, "Peter, little Peter."