THE OPEN SEA 



133 



the orange moon rising in the east, the smoke 

 of the steamer trailing in dusky banner lazily 

 behind, the black masts and yard-arms swing- 

 ing slowly backward and forward across the 

 starry heavens, the stars themselves flashing on 

 the blue-black ocean floor ! It is not possible 

 to conjure up a more beautiful scene. The 

 storm beauty of the Eoaring Forties, yes ; but 

 ah ! the great peace, the calm splendor of the 

 Southern seas I 



Foiling 

 the equator. 



