All around, above and below, ahead and astern, he looked, a long, long look astern––his foot on the step, and singing softly, almost to himself:
“And if I come to you, my love,
And my heart free from guile,
Will you have a glance for me––
Will you on me smile?
Oh, Lord! pipe-dreams––pipe-dreams. Let’s go below, Joe, and have a bite to eat.”
So below we went; and her sails lit up by the morning sun, her decks wet by the slapping sea, sheets off and sailing free, the Johnnie Duncan clipped her way to the east’ard.