A Mariner's Miscellany

About this book

I went aft, and mounted the small poop and looked forward towards the rising moon, whose sinning wake of glow-worm coloured light, sparkled in the small waves that danced in the gentle wind on the heaving bosom of the dark-blue sea, was right ahead of us, like a river of quicksilver with its course diminished in the distance to a point, flowing towards us, from the extreme verse of the horizon, through a rolling sea of ink, with the waters of which, for a time, it disdained to blend.