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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"A Tale Of The Forecastle"

And, again, for long hours she remained lost in a vast universe
of night and silence where gentle sighs wandering here and there like
forlorn souls, made the still sails flutter as in sudden fear, and the
ripple of a beshrouded ocean whisper its compassion afar--in a voice
mournful, immense, and faint....
When the lamp was put out, and through the door thrown wide open, Jimmy,
turning on his pillow, could see vanishing beyond the straight line of
top-gallant rail, the quick, repeated visions of a fabulous world made
up of leaping fire and sleeping water. The lightning gleamed in his
big sad eyes that seemed in a red flicker to burn themselves out in his
black face, and then he would lie blinded and invisible in the midst of
an intense darkness. He could hear on the quiet deck soft footfalls, the
breathing of some man lounging on the doorstep; the low creak of swaying
masts; or the calm voice of the watch-officer reverberating aloft, hard
and loud, amongst the unstirring sails. He listened with avidity, taking
a rest in the attentive perception of the slightest sound from the
fatiguing wanderings of his sleeplessness.


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