Moran of the Lady Letty

Wilbur stood watching. The little schooner lessened in the distance—became a shadow in mist and flying spray—a shadow moving upon the face of the great waste of water. Fainter and fainter she grew, vanished, reappeared, was heaved up again—a mere speck upon the western sky—a speck that dwindled and dwindled, then slowly melted away into the gray of the horizon.