...as the day wore on I watched the birds all flying in one direction, and said, Land lies there.

I once knew a writer who, after saying beautiful things about the sea, passed through a Pacific hurricane, and he became a changed man.

As for myself, the wonderful sea charmed me from the first.

If the Spray discovered no continents on her voyage, it may be that there were no more continents to be discovered. She did not seek new worlds, or sail to pow-wow about the dangers of the sea.

Now, it it well known that one cannot step on a tack without saying something about it.

But where, after all, would be the poetry of the sea were there no wild waves?

About midnight the fog shut down again denser than before. One could almost "stand on it." It continued so for a number of days, the wind increasing to a gale. The waves rose high, but I had a good ship. Still, in the dismal fog I felt myself drifting into loneliness, an insect on the straw in the midst of the elements.