The _Ghost_ ploughed on her way.

I noted the gurgling forefoot was very like a snore, and as I listened to it the effect of Wolf Larsen's swift rush from sublime exultation to despair slowly left me.

Then some deep-water sailor, from the waist of the ship, lifted a rich tenor voice in the "Song of the Trade Wind": "Oh, I am the wind the seamen love-- I am steady, and strong, and true; They follow my track by the clouds above, O'er the fathomless tropic blue.
* * * * * Through daylight and dark I follow the bark I keep like a hound on her trail; I'm strongest at noon, yet under the moon, I stiffen the bunt of her sail.".