To the east was the illimitable ocean, laid thick with moonlight and
luminous mist; to the west, beyond a stretch of black, slow heaving
water, was the low line of Newfoundland, an illusion of kindliness, the
malignant character of its jagged rock and barren interior transformed
by the gentle magic of the night. Tumm, the clerk, had the wheel of the
schooner, and had been staring in a rapture at the stars.
"Jus' readin', sir," he explained.