At the meridian altitude of the sun I called aloud, "Eight bells," after the custom on a ship at sea.

Again from my cabin I cried to an imaginary man at the helm, "How does she head, there ?" and again, "Is she on her course ?" But getting no reply, I was reminded the more palpably of my condition.

My voice sounded hollow on the empty air, and I dropped the practice.

However, it was not long before the thought came to me that when I was a lad I used to sing; why not try that now, where it would disturb no one?
My musical talent had never bred envy in others, but out on the Atlantic, to realize what it meant, you should have heard me sing.

You should have seen the porpoises leap when I pitched my voice for the waves and the sea and all that was in it.