The Breath of the Southern Seas 105 



lower row of windows tinder water, leaving 

 a white thread of foam behind her that you 

 could see for a mile. 



"Time her now between these seven-mile 

 buoys!" cried George, as we flashed by a red 

 can bobbing up and down in a mass of spray. 



I looked at my watch. Heavens, how she 

 flew! She was alive, and the wind seemed 

 the breath of her joyous soul. As I held her 

 wheel, I could feel the beat of her heart and 

 the quiver of her nerves. When I moved it, 

 she was as sensitive to my hand as a maiden 

 to the touch of her lover. There is some- 

 thing about sailboats that steam craft can 

 never imitate, something that links them to 

 Nature and makes their movements part of 

 the throb of universal life. The man who 

 has felt his heart quicken to the rhythm of 

 this joy will never forget it, nor prove false 

 to the love born in that hour. 



"Now, your watch again!" cried George 

 as we flashed past another buoy. 



