overpowering deluge seemed to last for an age; became unbearable--and,
all at once, stopped. In a couple of minutes the shower had run its
length over the brig and now could be seen like a straight grey wall,
going away into the night under the fierce whispering of dissolving
clouds. The wind eased. To the northward, low down in the darkness,
three stars appeared in a row, leaping in and out between the crests
of waves like the distant heads of swimmers in a running surf; and the
retreating edge of the cloud, perfectly straight from east to west,
slipped along the dome of the sky like an immense hemispheric, iron
shutter pivoting down smoothly as if operated by some mighty engine. An
inspiring and penetrating freshness flowed together with the shimmer
of light, through the augmented glory of the heaven, a glory exalted,
undimmed, and strangely startling as if a new world had been created
during the short flight of the stormy cloud. It was a return to life,
a return to space; the earth coming out from under a pall to take its
place in the renewed and immense scintillation of the universe.

The brig, her yards slightly checked in, ran with an easy motion under
the topsails, jib and driver, pushing contemptuously aside the turbulent
crowd of noisy and agitated waves. As the craft went swiftly ahead she
unrolled behind her over the uneasy darkness of the sea a broad ribbon
of seething foam shot with wispy gleams of dark discs escaping from
under the rudder. Far away astern, at the end of a line no thicker than
a black thread, which dipped now and then its long curve in the bursting
froth, a toy-like object could be made out, elongated and dark, racing
after the brig over the snowy whiteness of her wake.

Lingard walked aft, and, with both his hands on the taffrail, looked
eagerly for Carter's boat. The first glance satisfied him that the
yacht's gig was towing easily at the end of the long scope of line, and