sail streams out from the top of the mast, and the bark is
carried out to sea with irresistible rapidity, never to be seen
by mortal eyes again. The belief is that these boats are
freighted with condemned souls, and that the fishermen are
doomed to pilot them over the waste of waters until the day of
judgment. The legend, like many others, is of Celtic origin."
(footnote: Alexander Bell.)

One can readily see how the imaginative minds of those Celtic
fishermen could people their desolate coasts with spectres and
phantoms, and indeed we did not need to draw much on our own
imagination to see strange figures gliding along the shore in
the gloom on a night like this.

Soon, however, the lights from the numerous windows and veranda
sent their invitations through the mist-filled air and we
entered the hospitable building, and drew our chairs before the
glowing fireplace with a feeling of comfort not readily
imagined. On leaving the fireside to take a look at the ocean,
behold what a transformation! Instead of scudding clouds, a
clear blue sky filled with sparkling stars and a full moon, that
made a path of gold which led far away over the water. It was
such a night as one sees along the shores of the Mediterranean,
lacking only the balmy air, the fragrance of orange blossoms,
and the broad leafed date palm reflecting the glorious light.
True, the air was chilly, but the sudden transition from a dull,
melancholy scene to one so cheerful had a fascination for us,
like the lulling melody of flutes when their sweetness hushes
into silence the loud clamor of an orchestra.