The sun looked upon her all day, and every morning rose with a burning,
round stare of undying curiosity. She had her own future; she was alive
with the lives of those beings who trod her decks; like that earth which
had given her up to the sea, she had an intolerable load of regrets and
hopes. On her lived timid truth and audacious lies; and, like the earth,
she was unconscious, fair to see--and condemned by men to an ignoble
fate. The august loneliness of her path lent dignity to the sordid
inspiration of her pilgrimage. She drove foaming to the southward, as if
guided by the courage of a high endeavour. The smiling greatness of
the sea dwarfed the extent of time. The days raced after one another,
brilliant and quick like the flashes of a lighthouse, and the nights,
eventful and short, resembled fleeting dreams.

The men had shaken into their places, and the half-hourly voice of the
bells ruled their life of unceasing care. Night and day the head and
shoulders of a seaman could be seen aft by the wheel, outlined high
against sunshine or starlight, very steady above the stir of revolving
spokes. The faces changed, passing in rotation. Youthful faces, bearded
faces, dark faces: faces serene, or faces moody, but all akin with the
brotherhood of the sea; all with the same attentive expression of eyes,
carefully watching the compass or the sails. Captain Allistoun, serious,
and with an old red muffler round his throat, all day long pervaded the
poop. At night, many times he rose out of the darkness of the companion,
such as a phantom above a grave, and stood watchful and mute under the
stars, his night-shirt fluttering like a flag--then, without a sound,
sank down again. He was born on the shores of the Pentland Firth. In his
youth he attained the rank of harpooner in Peterhead whalers. When he
spoke of that time his restless grey eyes became still and cold, like
the loom of ice. Afterwards he went into the East Indian trade for the
sake of change. He had commanded the _Narcissus_ since she was built. He