The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor withouta flutter of the sails, and was at rest. The flood had made,the wind was nearly calm, and being bound down the river,the only thing for it was to come to and wait for the turn ofthe tide.The sea-reach of the Thames stretched before us like thebeginning of an interminable waterway. In the offing thesea and the sky were welded together without a joint, andin the luminous space the tanned sails....