VIII

           

           Forawhileafterhissecond’sansweringhootMassyhungovertheengine-roomgloomily.CaptainWhalley,who,bythepoweroffivehundredpounds,hadkepthiscommandforthreeyears,mighthavebeensuspectedofneverhavingseenthatcoastbefore.Heseemedunabletoputdownhisglasses,asthoughtheyhadbeengluedunderhiscontractedeyebrows.Thissettledfrowngavetohisfaceanairofinvincibleandjustseverity;buthisraisedelbowtrembledslightly,andtheperspirationpouredfromunderhishatasifasecondsunhadsuddenlyblazedupatthezenithbythesideoftheardentstillglobealreadythere,inwhoseblindingwhiteheattheearthwhirledandshonelikeamoteofdust.

           Fromtimetotime,stillholdinguphisglasses,heraisedhisotherhandtowipehisstreamingface.Thedropsrolleddownhischeeks,felllikerainuponthewhitehairsofhisbeard,andbrusquely,asifguidedbyanuncontrollableandanxiousimpulse,hisarmreachedouttothestandoftheengine-roomtelegraph.

           Thegongclangeddownbelow.Thebalancedvibrationofthedead-slowspeedceasedtogetherwitheverysoundandtremorintheship,asifthegreatstillnessthatreigneduponthecoasthadstoleninthroughhersidesofironandtakenpossessionofherinnermostrecesses.Theillusionofperfectimmobilityseemedtofalluponherfromtheluminousbluedomewithoutastainarchingoveraflatseawithoutastir.Thefaintbreezeshehadmadeforherselfexpired,asifallatoncetheairhadbecometoothicktobudge;eventheslighthissofthewateronherstemdiedout.

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Roboto Lora
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