Vain the idea of idling out the calm.

He may sleep if he can, or purposely delude himself into a crazy fancy, that he is merely at leisure.

All this he may compass; but he may not lounge; for to lounge is to be idle; to be idle implies an absence of any thing to do; whereas there is a calm to be endured: enough to attend to, Heaven knows.
His physical organization, obviously intended for locomotion, becomes a fixture; for where the calm leaves him, there he remains.

Even his undoubted vested rights, comprised in his glorious liberty of volition, become as naught.

For of what use?
He wills to go: to get away from the calm: as ashore he would avoid the plague.