Still they sang; and the San Marco sped on through the soft gloom, ever slightly swerved by the steady blowing of the southeast wind in her sail;-always wearing the same Crimpling-frill of wave-spray about her prow,-always accompanied by the same smooth-backed swells,-always spinning out behind her the same long trail of interwoven foam.
"Chita: A Memory of Last Island"
Lafcadio Hearn
