It was an unforgettable scene--the mate in the high place, the men,
sullen and irresponsive, grouped beneath. A gentle snow drifted
straight down through the windless air, while the Elsinore, with
hollow thunder from her sails, rolled down on the quiet swells so
that the ocean lapped the mouths of her scuppers with long-drawn,
shuddering sucks and sobs. And all the men swayed in unison to the
rolls, their hands in mittens, their feet in sack-wrapped sea-boots,
their faces worn and sick. And the three dreamers with the topaz
eyes stood and swayed and dreamed together, incurious of setting and
situation.
And then it came--the hint of easterly air. The mate noted it first.
I saw him start and turn his cheek to the almost imperceptible
draught. Then I felt it. A minute longer he waited, until assured,
when, the dead carpenter forgotten, he burst out with orders to the
wheel and the crew. And the men jumped, though in their weakness the
climb aloft was slow and toilsome; and when the gaskets were off the
topgallant-sails and the men on deck were hoisting yards and sheeting
home, those aloft were loosing the royals.
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