There is something
unspeakably delightful in the rushing never-ending procession of waves
that passes away, away in merry ranks to the shining horizon; and all
true lovers of the sea are exhilarated by the sweet tumult. Remember I
am talking about a fine day; I shall come to the bad weather in good
time. On this ineffable morning a lady may come up and walk briskly in
the crisp air; but indeed women are the best and coolest of sailors in
any weather when once their preliminary troubles are over. The hours fly
past, and we hail the announcement of breakfast with a sudden joy which
tells of gross materialism. I may say, by-the-way, that our lower
nature, or what sentimental persons call our lower nature, comes out
powerfully at sea, and men of the most refined sort catch themselves in
the act of wondering time after time when meals will be ready. For me I
think that it is no more gross to delight in flavours than it is to
delight in colours or harmonies, and one of my main reasons for dwelling
on the delights of the sea lies in the fact that the voyager learns to
take an exquisite, but quite rational, delight in the mere act of
eating. I know that I ought to speak as though dinner were an ignoble
institution; I know that the young lady who said, "Thanks--I rarely
eat," represented a class who pretend to devote themselves to higher
joys; but I decline to talk cant on any terms, and I say that the
healthy, hearty hunger bestowed by the open sea is one of God's good
gifts.
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