Best gift I've ever received has to be a bike when I was younger, a pedal bike.

It was a sort of slick little road bike and I remember it was all like, it was so, it was all wrapped up,

it was so obvious what it was obviously because nothing's shaped like a bike and I had a little ribbon on it and I was so

a guest. For that was a life changer and I'm still sort of big on cycling around my area now so, for that one change me a little.

Enjoy in every sip with red cups now back at Starbucks.

Chapter 126. The Life Booy.

Steering now South Eastward by A-Hab's leveled steel and her progress solely determined by A-Hab's level log in line.

The P-Quad held on her path towards the equator, making so long a passage through such unfrequented waters,

describing no ships an air-long sideways impelled by unvarying trade winds, other waves monotonously mild.

All these seemed the strange calm things perluding some riotous and desperate scene.

At last when the ship drew near to the outskirts as it were of the equatorial fishing ground and in the deep darkness that goes before the dawn was sailing by a cluster of rocky eyelids.

The watch then headed by flask was startled by a cry so plaintively wild and unearthly, like half articulated wailings of the ghosts of all herods murdered innocence.

That one and all they started from the reveries and for the space of some moment stood or sat or leaned all transfixedly listening, like the carved Roman slave, while that wild cry remained within hearing.

The Christian or civilized part of the crew said it was mermaids and shuttered, but the pagan harpooners remained unapalled.

Yet the grey manksman, the oldest manor of all, declared that the wild thrilling sounds that were heard were the voices of newly drowned men in the sea.

Below in his hammock A-hab did not hear of this till grey dawn when he came to the deck. It was then recounted to him by flask, not at accompanied with hinted dark meanings.

He hollowly laughed and thus explained the wonder.

Those rocky islands the ship had passed with a resort of great numbers of seals and some young seals that had lost their dams, or some dams that had lost their cubs must have risen nigh the ship and kept company with her, crying and sobbing with her human sort of wail.

But this only the more affected some of them, because most mariners cherish a very superstitious feeling about seals. A rising, not only from their peculiar tones when in distress, but also from the human look of their round heads and semi-intelligent faces, seemed peeringly, uprising from the water alongside.

In the sea, under certain circumstances, seals have more than once been mistaken for men.

But the boatings of the crew were destined to receive a most plausible confirmation in the fate of one of their number that morning.

At sunrise this man went from his hammock to his mast head at the fore, and whether it was that he was not yet half-waked from his sleep, for sailors sometimes go aloft in a transition state.

...