The long red trail faded off the waters, and the soft colours out of the sky.

The sea was a chill waste of tumbling waves.

The sky was a cast-iron shutter.

The manhood went out of me, and I sank with a sob on to my frail spar, for of all our company which had sailed so gallantly out of Peter Port five days before, I was the only one left, and the rest had all been done to death in most foul and cruel fashion..