On the other hand, when we looked down to leeward, far in the steamy west, the declining moon hung over the dark sea pale and sickly, as a lamp whose oil had failed. She looked as if she would have dropped at once into the ocean, and the feeble wake she cast through the ascending fog was dull and cheerless. There, however, in the very centre of her half quenched radiance, lay the noble frigate, rolling heavily on the long seas, under her three topsails; now rising distinct and clear against the horizon on the ridge of the dark swell, and again sinking on the liquid hills until she disappeared, as if the ever heaving waters had swallowed her up. All overhead continued blue, and cold, and serene. "Mr Marline, bear up, and run down to her." "Ay, ay, sir." The deadening splash and gushing sound of the felucca's counter, as it came surging down, while lying to, was soon, but gradually, exchanged for the rushing of the water and buzzing of the foam past a vessel rapidly cleaving the billows. As we approached, all remained quiet and still on board the frigate. We stood on--not a soul seemed to notice us--we crossed her stern--still all silent, and at length we rounded to under her lee. We were so close that one might have chucked a biscuit into her gangway. "Are you waiting for a boat, Mr Lanyard?" at length said the officer of the watch, the old gunner. "No, no," he replied, "I will be on board presently." Sprawl was roused out, and in a few seconds we were in our own tiny skiff, and approaching the frigate. All continued dark and dismal, as we looked up at her black hull, dark sails, and tall spars. She was rolling heavily, the masts and yards groaning, the bulkheads creaking and screaming, and the topsails fluttering and grumbling, until the noise, every now and then, ended in a sounding thump, as if the old ship, in all her parts, were giving audible indications of her impatience of the tedious calm; while her stained canvass appeared to be as heavy as if a wetting shower had just poured down. We approached, and as the man in the bow stuck his boat-hook into the old lady's side to fend off, the sidesman handed us the man-ropes, and presently we were all three on the Gazelle's quarterdeck. Every thing was wet and uncomfortable--the heavy dew was dripping down from the shrouds and rigging, and every lumbering flap of the topsails sent a cold shower pattering on deck. The watch had all roused out from the booms, and were clustered on the hammock cloths, looking down on us. When we got on deck, they followed us as far aft as they thought they might venture to do, while others again had hung themselves in a variety of ways over the side to get the marrow of our secret out of our boat's crew. The old gunner was arrayed in his pea-jacket and blue trowsers, as if he had been in the North Sea; and the red sparkle of the light in the binnacle glanced on the face and chest of the sunburned seaman at the wheel.