1 No change appeared on the face of the rock.
2 To tell you the truth, I was morbidly anxious to change my shoes and socks.
3 Forthwith a change came over the waters, and the serenity became less brilliant but more profound.
4 Anything approaching the change that came over his features I have never seen before, and hope never to see again.
5 I was broad awake by this time, but, lying perfectly at ease, remained still, having no inducement to change my position.
6 The living trees, lashed together by the creepers and every living bush of the undergrowth, might have been changed into stone, even to the slenderest twig, to the lightest leaf.
7 And at last, in its curved and imperceptible fall, the sun sank low, and from glowing white changed to a dull red without rays and without heat, as if about to go out suddenly, stricken to death by the touch of that gloom brooding over a crowd of men.
8 The long reaches that were like one and the same reach, monotonous bends that were exactly alike, slipped past the steamer with their multitude of secular trees looking patiently after this grimy fragment of another world, the forerunner of change, of conquest, of trade, of massacres, of blessings.
9 In the immutability of their surroundings the foreign shores, the foreign faces, the changing immensity of life, glide past, veiled not by a sense of mystery but by a slightly disdainful ignorance; for there is nothing mysterious to a seaman unless it be the sea itself, which is the mistress of his existence and as inscrutable as Destiny.