Her
fiddle-stem was gracefully cut, and harmonised to perfection with
the slight rake aft of her lofty masts. Her spars, also, were finely
proportioned to the breadth of her hull. So that, with her canvas
spread in an unwavering breeze, the Chrysolite was a stately creature
and "a thing of beauty."
"Mr. Grant," said the captain, addressing his subordinate officer,
"be good enough to take a star and work out the ship's position."
The second mate quickly brought his sextant, and took the altitude
of a star convenient for his purpose. He then went below to the cabin
to perform his calculations. The lookout man, a ready sleeper, was
in a heavy slumber, upon which the stiffening breeze made no effect.
The rest of the watch had disappeared in the customary fashion.
Captain Anderson was practically alone on deck.
He walked forward, leaned over the weather-rail, and directed his
glass. He saw just exactly what he expected to see. There, right
ahead in the distance, the binoculars showed a long, thin streak
of sparkling silver, appearing like a lightning flash held fast
between the darkness and the deep sea. It was phosphorescent water
playing on a sand-bank.
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