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[??] who was, of course, the Daughter of the Moon. And down below, the big sea [??] stretched away, so far as the horizon.

At night when those black lines with their trailing vanishing smoke were lost in darkness, the long bass notes of their whistles reached us over the water. "She's saluting the light," my father explained. "Ships always salute a light" house no matter what country they come from. And they signal each other if they are passing. Those are the rules of the sea. there was something great, and lonely, about those giant voices in the night speaking to one another and saluting the lighthouse. And something noble about the observance of the rules of the sea. You would hope that all ships would come safely into port and drop their anchor there or tie up to the docks.

My father knew a great deal about all