At 3:30 a. m. one day last week Lightkeeper William Faulkner heard a crash far out in Cobequid Bay, Nova Scotia. Then came a noise like an explosion and cries for help. Faulkner ran out to the beach, roused neighboring fishermen. In the darkness they could see nothing; but again came the anguished shouts from the bay. The tide was out. For two miles from the beach stretched a sea of soft red mud on which no man could walk. For two hours the shouts could be heard while the watchers waited for...

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