hem,
and the soul fully submitting to their influence.
Mark arose, next morning, two hours before the light appeared, and at
once left the group. Time, was now important to him; for, while he
anticipated the possibility of remaining under the lee of the mountain
during the succeeding night, he also anticipated the possibility of
being compelled to return. In a favourable time, with the wind a little
free, five knots in the hour was about the maximum of the boat's rate of
sailing, though it was affected by the greater or less height of the sea
that was on. When the waves ran heavily, the Bridget's low sails got
becalmed in the troughs, and she consequently lost much of her way. On
the whole, however, five knots might be set down as her average speed,
under the pressure of the ordinary trades, and with whole canvas, and a
little off the wind. Close-hauled, she scarcely made more than three;
while, with the wind on the quarter, she often went seven, especially in
smooth water.
The course steered was about a point to the westward of south, the boat
running altogether by compass, for the first two hours. At the end of
that time day returned and the dark, frowning Peak itself became
visible. The sun had no sooner risen, than Mark felt satisfied with his
boat's performance. Objects began to come out of the mass of the
mountain, which no longer appeared a pile of dark outline, without
detail. He expected this, and was even disappointed that his eyes could
not command more, for he now saw that he had materially underrated the
distance between the crater and the Peak, which must be nearer sixty
than fifty miles. The channel between the group and this isolated mass
was, at least, twelve leagues in width. These twelve leagues were now to
be run, and our young navigator thought he had made fully three of them,
when light returned.
From that moment every mile made a sensible difference in the face of
the mountain. Light and shadow first became visible; then ravines,
cliffs, and colours, came into the view. Each league that he advanced
increased Mark's admiration and awe; and by the time that the boat was
on the last of those leagues which had appeared so long, he began to
have a more accurate idea of the sublime nature of the phenomenon that
had been wrought so near him. Vulcan's Peak, as an island, could not be
less than eight or nine miles in length, though its breadth did not much
exceed two. Running north and south, it offe
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