“Oh, for a shipload of infidels now!” cried he. “D’ye see them looking up to God after gazing, white as the water itself, at the ocean?” By this time the watch below had turned out, aroused, no doubt, by one of the sailors on duty. The men in a body had gradually worked their way from the forecastle to the gangway. They were all as plainly to be viewed as by the sickly light of a foggy day. No man spoke; not for minute after minute did the grunt or growl of any one of their hurricane throats reach my ears. The wild vast scene of whiteness terrified them. The impression produced was the deeper because this was the night before the day that was to heave Greaves’ island out of the sea for our sight to feast on. For let it be remembered at least that the adventure we were on was highly romantic; the plain, illiterate Jacks would find something almost magical, something a little out of nature, according to their scuttle-butt and harness-cask views of life, in Greaves’ discovery of an uncharted island, with a ship full of dollars in a hole in it. Also in these seas stood the Galapagos, islands of mystery and darkness, whose dusky rocks had not width enough of front to receive from the chisel or the knife the records of the bloody and diabolical tragedies of which they had been the theater. A man stepped out of the group; he coughed hoarsely and spat. His hand went to his forehead, and he scraped the sea bow of those times. “Capt’n, I beg your honor’s pardon,” he said, “us men would like to know what sea this here is?” “The South Pacific--always the South Pacific,” answered Greaves. “Will your honor tell us what’s the meaning of this here chalkiness?” “My lads, some clumsy son of a gun has capsized a milk can. Look for his ship, my hearts; she can’t be far off.” Some of the men stupidly gazed seaward. “Vhas der island vashed by dis milkiness, captain?” exclaimed Wirtz. “It stands in the bluest sea in the world,” answered Greaves. “This here’s a sight,” said Travers, “that may be all blooming fine to read about, but ’taint lucky, to my ways of thinking. Give me natur, says I.” He did not use the word _blooming_. This elegant expression was not to be heard in those days; but let it stand. “Has none of you ever seen such a sight as this before?” called Greaves. After a pause, “Ne’er a man,” answered Teach. “Then gaze your eyes full! drink your hearts full! Never again may you behold the like of this field of glory. Look thirstily! look till ye burst with the beauty that’ll come into you by looking! Fear not, my sons--we shall be out of it all too soon. Gaze, my livelies, and silver your souls with this brightness as it silvers your cheeks. Bol, out whistle and pipe grog, that we may watch with enjoyment.”