1 The Director of Companies was our captain and our host.
2 For some reason or other we did not begin that game of dominoes.
3 The day was ending in a serenity of still and exquisite brilliance.
4 Between us there was, as I have already said somewhere, the bond of the sea.
5 The sea-reach of the Thames stretched before us like the beginning of an interminable waterway.
6 The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter of the sails, and was at rest.
7 The Accountant had brought out already a box of dominoes, and was toying architecturally with the bones.
8 Only the gloom to the west, brooding over the upper reaches, became more somber every minute, as if angered by the approach of the sun.
9 The flood had made, the wind was nearly calm, and being bound down the river, the only thing for it was to come to and wait for the turn of the tide.
10 We looked at the venerable stream not in the vivid flush of a short day that comes and departs for ever, but in the august light of abiding memories.
11 He had sunken cheeks, a yellow complexion, a straight back, an ascetic aspect, and, with his arms dropped, the palms of hands outwards, resembled an idol.
12 The tidal current runs to and fro in its unceasing service, crowded with memories of men and ships it had borne to the rest of home or to the battles of the sea.
13 And indeed nothing is easier for a man who has, as the phrase goes, "followed the sea" with reverence and affection, than to evoke the great spirit of the past upon the lower reaches of the Thames.
14 The old river in its broad reach rested unruffled at the decline of day, after ages of good service done to the race that peopled its banks, spread out in the tranquil dignity of a waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth.
15 In the offing the sea and the sky were welded together without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails of the barges drifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvas sharply peaked, with gleams of varnished sprits.
16 And at last, in its curved and imperceptible fall, the sun sank low, and from glowing white changed to a dull red without rays and without heat, as if about to go out suddenly, stricken to death by the touch of that gloom brooding over a crowd of men.
17 The water shone pacifically; the sky, without a speck, was a benign immensity of unstained light; the very mist on the Essex marshes was like a gauzy and radiant fabric, hung from the wooded rises inland, and draping the low shores in diaphanous folds.
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