At the foot of the parallel walls, scattered about under the water or just above it, or in hollows in the rocks, were monstrous round boulders—scarlet, black, purple—that looked like human organs; fresh lungs, rotting livers. It was as if giants had been disemboweled here. From top to bottom of the granite ran long veins of red, like blood oozing from a corpse.
Hugo's imagination of the sea is more Gothic than Melville's
