less and wanton, and so perfectly
_de trop_ while the wind is absolutely calm. At other times, in such a
case, you can stop this provoking clatter by hauling up the boom and
lowering the jib; but here, in mid ocean, we must not hamper the sails
but be ready for the first faint breath of wind, and moreover--best to
confess it--I had in this case a serious disturbance _within_, yet not
mental. Strawberries and cream imprisoned with mushrooms did not agree.

They called them mushrooms in Havre yesterday, and we know "there are 371
edible fungi;" but I assert that the rebellious species embarked with me
were toadstools, and so giddiness followed upon sleep . . .

Gentle and cool is the first fresh murmur of a new breeze as it comes
from afar, tripping along. Gratefully we watch its footsteps on the sea.
Its garments rustle in the south, and the glassy rounded waves are now
crested by its touch. Then the coolness of it fans the cheek, the flag
flutters while the sails fill full, the mast bows gently under the soft
pressure, and the Rob Roy runs eagerly again upon her proper course.

Dinner was instantly served up to celebrate the event. It is an
Englishman's way. Still we were fifty miles from England, but wave after
wave rose, dashed, and was left behind, till the sun got weary in his
march, and hung, in the west, a great red globe. My course had been
taken for the Nab light, which is in the entrance towards Portsmouth, but
the Channel tide, crossing my path twice, could carry the yawl fast, yet
secretly, first right, then left, and both ways once again.

Yet when the evening shade fell we expected to see at least some light in
the horizon, for the English lights are clear, and they shine out twenty
miles to sea. How I peered into the inscrutable darkness, and standing
by the mast to get higher, but in vain; yet still the wind urged on, and
the sea tumbled forward all in the right way. Hours passed, and
ship-lights now could be descried; they were crossing my path, for they
were in the great fair-way of nations bound east or west through the
Channel. This at least was company, but it was also danger. We have
left the lonely plain, and are walking now in the street of waters; but
how am I to sleep here, and yet I _must_ sleep this night. I tried to
"speak" a goodly vessel sailing past like a shadow--I ventured even to
near it--hailing, "How far to the Nab?" but the voice melted in the
breeze. Low vapoury cloud