The sea, perhaps because of its saltness, roughens the outside but keeps sweet the kernel of its servants' soul.

The old sea; the sea of many years ago, whose servants were devoted slaves and went from youth to age or to a sudden grave without needing to open the book of life, because they could look at eternity reflected on the element that gave the life and dealt the death.

Like a beautiful and unscrupulous woman, the sea of the past was glorious in its smiles, irresistible in its anger, capricious, enticing, illogical, irresponsible; a thing to love, a thing to fear.

It cast a spell, it gave joy, it lulled gently into boundless faith; then with quick and causeless anger it killed.

But its cruelty was redeemed by the charm of its inscrutable mystery, by the immensity of its promise, by the supreme witchery of its possible favour.