Excerpt from Hunt's Yachting Magazine, Vol. 18: January 1st, 1869
A weary time we had of it that day, cooped up in our little boat, with the hot sun pouring down on us reﬂected from our white sails, and dancing in Tom Noddies on our sides; not a breath of wind stirring, and the catspaws that occasionally stole across the blue bay serving only to tantalize, by almost invariably failing 'ere reaching us. Little satis faction was it for us to watch the pipe fish wriggling, and the small ﬂy, and animalcula darting about, deep down in the indigo coloured crystal beneath. They indeed seemed to have a jolly time of it, and we envied them; but the jelly fish swelling and shrinking their umbrella shaped backs, as if gasping for breath; with their fringes and feelers stretched forth for relief, ﬂoating far behind them, were more in unison with our feelings, and we could sympathise with them; whilst the dorsal fin of an approaching shark, protruding from the water like the end of a boathook staﬂ, failed raising any emotion, for we felt that any would only add to the sweltering condition in which we then pasted.
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