The noise of the falling stream in the glen was merged in the confused clamour of the tide-race.
Far to the east the tide-race tore through the Sound with a confused muttering of haste and tumult.
As the day closed we reached a cove half a mile north of Tide-Race Point, where we passed the night.
Looking out, I saw that we were drifting into a "jobble" or tide-race, which seemed to drift obliquely into the shore.
On the 11th we passed through a very dangerous 'tide-race' off Bell Cape.
