of stupefaction for another.  Well, I was a sailor, and the dullest of the tribe.  No wonder, for I was at it when a young boy.  I was never startled by the sights or sounds of the sea.  The moaning of the wind, the rush of the waves, the silence of the calm, were parts of my own existence; and in the wildest storm, my mind never took a wider tack than just to think what the poor devils on shore would do now.

I was a handy lad, however.  I could go aloft with any man on board, and never troubled the shrouds in coming down when a rope was within springing distance.  But this was instinct or habit:  thought was not concerned in it—­I had not found the principle.  One day, it blew what sailors call great guns; our bulwarks were stove in pieces, and the sea swept the deck, crashing and roaring like a whole herd of tigers.  There was something to do at the mast-head; and when the order came through the speaking-trumpet, seeing the men hesitate, I jumped upon the shrouds without thinking twice.  But at that moment the ship gave a lurch, and, holding on like grim death, I was buried deep in the waves.  Although still clutching the ropes, I had at first an idea that they had parted, and that we were on our way to the bottom together.  This could not have lasted above a minute or so; but it seemed to me like a year.  I heard every voice that had ever sounded in my ear since childhood; I saw every apparition that had ever glided before my fancy:  the Sea-Serpent twisted his folds round my neck, and the keel of the Flying Dutchman grated along my back.  When the vessel rose at last, and I rose with her, the waters gurgling in my throat and hissing in my ears, I did not attempt to spring up the shrouds.  I looked round in horror for the objects of my excited thoughts; and as I saw another enormous wave advancing till it overhung me, instead of getting out of its reach, which I could easily have done, I kept staring at it as it broke into what seemed innumerable goblin faces and yelling voices over my head.  I was down again.  My leading thought now was that I would strike out and swim for my life.  But when I had just made up my mind to this—­which the sailors would have called being washed away—­I rose once more to the surface—­and struck up like a good one!  I was at the cross-trees in a breath, and once in safety there, I looked back both with shame and indignation.

When my job was finished, I went higher up in a sort of dogged humour.  I went higher, and higher, and higher than I ever ventured before, till I felt the mast bending and quivering in the gale like the point of a fishing-rod; and then I looked down upon the sea.  And what, think you, I found there?  Why, the goblin faces were small white specks of foam that I could hardly see; and their yelling voices were a smooth, round, swelling tone, that rolled like music through the rigging.  The mountain-waves were like a flock of sheep in a meadow, running and gamboling,