The Sea-Wolf

Ghost foaming along, wing-and-wing and with every sail drawing except the jibs, with a fresh breeze astern. Oh, the wonder of the great trade-wind! All day

sailors to do except to steer. At night, when the sun went down, the sheets were slackened; in the morni

cisco behind and with which we were foaming down upon the tropics. Each day grew perceptibly warmer. In the second dog-watch the sailors came on deck, stripped, and threw buckets of water upon one another from overside. Flying-fish were beginning to be seen, and during the night the watch above s

ess of sail. There was passion, adoration, in his eyes, and he went about in a sort of trance, gazing in ecstasy at the swelling s

nding glory of what I never dreamed the world possessed. Above, the sky was stainless blue- blue as the sea itself, which, under the forefoot, was of the colo

ng of a brook over mossy stones in some quiet dell, and the crooning song of it lured me away and out of myself till I was no longer Hump the cabin-boy, or Van Weyden the man who had dreamed away thirty-

ic night, when the w

ds the hot

oot snores through the

cared whale f

e scarred by th

pes are taut

own on the old trail,

tr

on the Long Trail- t

ne

' he asked, after the due pause

with light, as the sea itself, and t

say the least, that you should s

s living; it's

g and without value.' I

he first time I had heard

s, except to itself. And I can tell you that my life is pretty valuable just now- to myself. It is beyond price, which you

with which to express the thought t

ne's digestion, when his stomach is in trim, and his appetite has an edge, and all goes well. It is the bribe for living, the champagne of the blood, the effervescence of the ferment, that makes some men think holy thoughts, and other men to see God or to create him when they cannot see him. That is all- the drunkenness of life, the stirring and crawling of the yeast, the babbling of the life that is insane with consciousness that it is alive. And- bah! Tomorrow I shall pay for it as t

that the gurgling forefoot was very like a snore, and as I listened to it the effect of Wolf Larsen's swift rush from sublime exultation t

he wind the

y, and stron

my track by th

fathomless