A Midsummer Trip to tlie Tropics.
19
the sea-circle the edge of the heaven glows as if bathed in
greenish flame. The swaying circle of the resplendent
sea seems to flash its jewel-color to the zenith.
Clothing feels now almost too heavy to endure ; and
the warm wind brings a languor with it as of tempta-
tion. . . . One feels an irresistible desire to drowse on
deck ;—the rushing speech of waves, the long rocking of
the ship, the lukewarm caress of the wind, urge to slum-
ber;—but the light is too vast to permit of sleep. Its
blue power compels wakefulness. And the brain is
wearied at last by this duplicated azure splendor of sky
and sea. How gratefully comes the evening to us,—with
its violet glooms and promises of coolness !
All this sensuous blending of warmth and force in
winds and waters more and more suggests an idea of
the spiritualism of elements,—a sense of world-life. In
all these soft sleepy swayings, these caresses of wind and
sobbing of waters, Nature seems to confess some pas-
sional mood. Passengers converse of pleasant tempting
things,—tropical fruits, tropical beverages, tropical mount-
ain-breezes, tropical women-----It is a time for dreams—
those day-dreams that come gently as a mist, with ghostly
realization of hopes, desires, ambitions. . . . Men sailing
to the mines of Guiana dream of gold.
The wind seems to grow continually warmer ; the spray
feels warm like blood. Awnings have to be clewed up,
and wind-sails taken in ;—still, there are no white-caps,—
only the enormous swells, too broad to see, as the ocean
falls and rises like a dreamer's breast. . . .
The sunset comes with a great burning yellow glow,
fading up through faint greens to lose itself in violet
light;—there is no gloaming. The days have already
become shorter. . . . Through the open ports, as we lie
down to sleep, comes a great whispering,—the whisper-
ing of. the seas : sounds as of articulate speech under
the breath,—as of women telling secrets. . . .