Next morning, at daylight, the Narcissus went to sea.

A slight haze¹ blurred² the horizon. Outside the harbour the measureless expanse of smooth water lay sparkling lay sparkling like a floor of jewels, and as empty as the sky. The short black tug³ gave a pluck to windward, in the usual way, then let go the rope, and hovered⁴ for a moment on the quarter with her engines stopped; while the slim, long hull⁵ of the ship moved ahead slowly under lower top-sails. The loose upper canvas blew out in the breeze with soft round contours, resembling small white clouds snared⁶ in the maze⁷ of ropes. Then the sheets were hauled home, the yards hoisted⁸, and the ship became a high and lonely pyramid, gliding⁹, all shining and white, through the sunlit mist. The tug turned short round and went away towards land. Twenty-six pairs of eyes watched her low broad stern crawling languidly over the beating water with fierce hurry. She resembled an enormous and aquatic¹⁰ blackbeetle, surprised by the light, overwhelmed by the sunshine, trying to escape with ineffectual effort into the distant gloom of the land. She left a lingering smudge of smoke on the sky, and two vanishing trails of foam¹³ on the water. On the place where she had stopped a round black patch of soot¹⁴ remained undulating on the

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