34 THAT GREAT LEVIATHAN. 



" Brace head yards a-starboard ! " 



" Lay helm aport ! " 



" Heave up the anchor ! " 



The first mate answers, " All away, sir ! " and 

 you know then that the good ship has loosed her 

 hold on terra firma, and you watch her move- 

 ments, as — gracefully as a girl in a minuet — she 

 turns her head seaward. 



The pilot springs to the bow, now and again 

 shouting his orders to the helmsmen, who invari- 

 ably echoes the words, that there may be no 

 possibility of mistake. 



And so, with a breeze fresh and free, we sped 

 down the bay, borrowing a little, now on one 

 shore, then on the other, or shaving close to some 

 rocky ledge, as our sharp-eyed, skillful guide 

 might direct, in order to shorten our course from 

 the confines of harbor to the freedom of the 

 open sea. 



A little farther, and we open up Gay Head 

 lighthouse on the western end of Martha's Vine- 

 yard, so called from the abundance of wild grape 

 vines growing there. Once outside, the tiny pilot- 

 boat, which has been dodging about the heavy 

 ship like a will-o'-the-wisp, shoots alongside, and 

 his lordship the pilot and our friends, mostly 

 men of the sea, hasten to make their adieus, and 



