cannot see me in the darkness, but I hear him whinnying a song to
steady his nerves:

"_Ess, a young maid's broken-'earted
When a ship is outward bound._"

His face is pinched and drawn, his beady eyes move unceasingly, and I
think of one who said, "His nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'e babbled
of green fields."

* * * * *

As I go below to my berth again, striving with the door as with a
strong man, there crackles and hisses a forked glare of lightning, an
enormous whip driving the great white horses of the sea to madness.
Onward they spring, phalanx after phalanx, while above the riot of
their disintegration glints the faint yellow light of Fastnet. Far off
to nor'ard, guarding Cape Clear, hidden at times by the mountainous
water, veiled almost to obscurity by the flying spume, it flashes, a
coastwise light. And on the eastern horizon--O wondrous sight to
me!--the black pall has lifted a little from the tumbling waters,
leaving a band of yellow moonlight with one green-flashing star.

Reaching my berth once more, the terror and delight of that last
glimpse is upon me. In that strange yellow rift at midnight, backing
the world of dark chaos, that star of palest green, I feel a thrill of
the superhuman sense which renders Turner inexplicable to Balham, and
stabs the soul with demoniac joy in the Steersman's Song.

One Bell, and the pen drops from my fingers. And so, until the day
break and the shadows flee away, I shall be at my post. And in the
morning there will be more to tell.

THE END

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

Minor changes have been made to correct typesetter errors; otherwise,
every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and
intent.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Ocean Tramp, by William McFee

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