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 Roaring Forties, yes; but 
ah! the great peace, the calm splendor of the 
Southern seas ! 
Following 
the equator, 
