The very element which sustains the combatants, yields at the stroke of a feather.

One wind and one tide at one time operate upon all who here engage.

This simplicity renders a battle between two men-of-war, with their huge white wings, more akin to the Miltonic contests of archangels than to _the comparatively squalid_ tussles of earth.
As the ships neared, a hazy darkness overspread the water.

The moon was not yet risen.

Objects were perceived with difficulty.