Then there wuz moonlight evenin’s, when the moon shone down full and clear, and the glorified sky and the glorified water seemed to be a part of each other, and the long and deep rythm of the waves seemed to bear us up with ’em in a grand hymn that all creation wuz a-chantin’.
And then there wuz misty days, when clouds of fog settled down round us like gray, mysterious wings, a-holdin’ us clost in their folds of mystery, when we knew not what wuz a yard in front of us; when we sailed on, blind creeters, not a-knowin’ what we wuz a-comin’ bunt up aginst—a iceberg, or another ship, or jest the open space ahead. When the cries of the fog-horn seemed to be a-hollerin’ out—
“Git out of the way, we’re a-comin’!”
But how could a iceberg hear and wheel round? No, it hadn’t come down from the pole for no sech a purpose, it wuz a-goin’ straight ahead.
Them wuz solemn times, and we would think that we couldn’t never forgit ’em.
But we did. When the sun shone bright agin, we wuz ready to forgit the sorrer and danger of the night and be happy agin. And at times, fur off on the fur, watery plain—fur off ahead, we would see a sail.
Nearer and nearer it would come, and then go by us and dissapear in the horizen back of us—meetin’ and partin’ at some distance without a word; some like human bein’s goin’ by each other on the ocean of Life. Separate worlds full of human life and interest meetin’ and partin’, floatin’ by onbeknown.
I took a strange and a mysterious comfort sometimes a-bendin’ over the sides of the ship and lookin’ fur down into the depths of the water and a-seein’ huge forms a-playin’ down in their strange, green depths, or imaginin’ I could. And I took a kind of dretful enjoyment a-ponderin’ on what would foller on and ensue if I should fall off and plunge down into the liquid depths. But them thoughts wuz too full of or to indulge in long. They driv me back to the side of my beloved pardner, or the society of little Adrian and Alice.
Adrian knew everybody on board, and everybody loved him. But, above all, he liked a sailor called Mike. From all I could learn, that seaman racked his brain to tell all sorts of wild sea stories to the child.
I d’no as I’ve told about Josiah’s appetite durin’ that voyage. My pardner’s appetite wuz always a strong subject, but now it wuz exceedingly queer.