window when I turned round to close the front gate.

It was a distinct and complete impression, something that I don't
know whether to call a Landfall or a Departure. Certainly he had
gazed at times very fixedly before him with the Landfall's vigilant
look, this sea-captain seated incongruously in a deep-backed chair.
He had not then talked to me of employment, of ships, of being
ready to take another command; but he had discoursed of his early
days, in the abundant but thin flow of a wilful invalid's talk.
The women looked worried, but sat still, and I learned more of him
in that interview than in the whole eighteen months we had sailed
together. It appeared he had "served his time" in the copper-ore
trade, the famous copper-ore trade of old days between Swansea and
the Chilian coast, coal out and ore in, deep-loaded both ways, as
if in wanton defiance of the great Cape Horn seas--a work, this,
for staunch ships, and a great school of staunchness for West-
Country seamen. A whole fleet of copper-bottomed barques, as
strong in rib and planking, as well-found in gear, as ever was sent
upon the seas, manned by hardy crews and commanded by young
masters, was engaged in that now long defunct trade. "That was the
school I was trained in," he said to me almost boastfully, lying
back amongst his pillows with a rug over his legs. And it was in
that trade that he obtained his first command at a very early age.
It was then that he mentioned to me how, as a young commander, he
was always ill for a few days before making land after a long
passage. But this sort of sickness used to pass off with the first
sight of a familiar landmark. Afterwards, he added, as he grew
older, all that nervousness wore off completely; and I observed his
weary eyes gaze steadily ahead, as if there had been nothing
between him and the straight line of sea and sky, where whatever a