months. Nothing but a gale can disturb the orderly life of the
ship; and the spell of unshaken monotony that seems to have fallen
upon the very voices of her men is broken only by the near prospect
of a Landfall.

Then is the spirit of the ship's commander stirred strongly again.
But it is not moved to seek seclusion, and to remain, hidden and
inert, shut up in a small cabin with the solace of a good bodily
appetite. When about to make the land, the spirit of the ship's
commander is tormented by an unconquerable restlessness. It seems
unable to abide for many seconds together in the holy of holies of
the captain's state-room; it will out on deck and gaze ahead,
through straining eyes, as the appointed moment comes nearer. It
is kept vigorously upon the stretch of excessive vigilance.
Meantime the body of the ship's commander is being enfeebled by
want of appetite; at least, such is my experience, though
"enfeebled" is perhaps not exactly the word. I might say, rather,
that it is spiritualized by a disregard for food, sleep, and all
the ordinary comforts, such as they are, of sea life. In one or
two cases I have known that detachment from the grosser needs of
existence remain regrettably incomplete in the matter of drink.

But these two cases were, properly speaking, pathological cases,
and the only two in all my sea experience. In one of these two
instances of a craving for stimulants, developed from sheer
anxiety, I cannot assert that the man's seaman-like qualities were
impaired in the least. It was a very anxious case, too, the land
being made suddenly, close-to, on a wrong bearing, in thick
weather, and during a fresh onshore gale. Going below to speak to
him soon after, I was unlucky enough to catch my captain in the