something to the tindal who directly cocked his old hat on one
side, which senseless action invested him with an altogether foolish
appearance. The others heard, but went on somnolently feeding with
spidery movements of their lean arms.

The sun was no more than a degree or so above the horizon, and from the
heated surface of the waters a slight low mist began to rise; a mist
thin, invisible to the human eye; yet strong enough to change the sun
into a mere glowing red disc, a disc vertical and hot, rolling down to
the edge of the horizontal and cold-looking disc of the shining sea.
Then the edges touched and the circular expanse of water took on
suddenly a tint, sombre, like a frown; deep, like the brooding
meditation of evil.

The falling sun seemed to be arrested for a moment in his descent by the
sleeping waters, while from it, to the motionless brig, shot out on
the polished and dark surface of the sea a track of light, straight and
shining, resplendent and direct; a path of gold and crimson and purple,
a path that seemed to lead dazzling and terrible from the earth straight
into heaven through the portals of a glorious death. It faded slowly.
The sea vanquished the light. At last only a vestige of the sun
remained, far off, like a red spark floating on the water. It lingered,
and all at once--without warning--went out as if extinguished by a
treacherous hand.

"Gone," cried Lingard, who had watched intently yet missed the last
moment. "Gone! Look at the cabin clock, Shaw!"

"Nearly right, I think, sir. Three minutes past six."