could address him old Parsons hailed to give him
the name of the _Carthusian_ and to request him to report the ship, and
he ran on to the bridge to answer. I could look at nothing just then
but the ship. Of all sea pieces I never remember the like of that for
beauty. We were to leeward of her, and she showed us the milk-white
bosoms of her sails, that flashed out in silver brilliance to the
sunlight through sheer force of the contrast of the vivid red of her
water-line as it was lifted out of the yeast and then plunged again by
the rolling of the craft. Large soft clouds resembling puffs of steam
sailed over her waving mast-heads, where a gilt vane glowed like a
streak of fire against the blue of the sky between the clouds.

A full-rigged ship never looks more majestic I think than when she is
hove to under all plain sail, that is, when all canvas but stun'sails
is piled upon her and her main topsail is to the mast, with the great
main course hauled up to the yard and windily swaying in festoons. She
is then like a noble mare reined in; her very hawse pipes seem to grow
large like the nostrils of some nervous creature impatiently sniffing
the air; she bows the sea as though informed with a spirit of fire that
maddens her to leap the surge, and to rush forward once more in music
and in thunder, in giddy shearing and in long floating plunges on the
wings of the wind. Never does a ship show so much as a thing of life
as when she is thus restrained.

But the boat had now gained the tall fabric's side; the tackles had
been hooked into her, and even whilst she was soaring to the davits the
great main topsail yard of the _Carthusian_ came slowly round, and the
sails to the royal filled. At the same moment I was sensible of a
pulsation in the deck on which we were standing; the engines had been
started, and in a few beats of the heart the _Carthusian_ was on our
quarter, breaking the sea under her bow as the long, slender, metal
hull leaned to the weight of the high and swelling canvas.

I pulled off my hat and flourished it, Grace waved her handkerchief, a
hearty cheer swept down to us, not only from the passengers assembled
on the poop but also from the crowds who watched us from the forecastle
and from the line of the bulwark rails, and for some minutes every
figure was in motion, as the people gesticulated their farewells to us.

"Act the fourth!" said I, bringing my eyes to Grace's face. "One more
act and then o