R. M. Ballantyne,
The Coral Island
(1859)
“ Peterkin and I paddled in the bow, and Avatea worked untiringly in the middle. As the sun's lower limb dipped on the gilded edge of the sea Jack ceased working, threw down his paddle, and called a halt. "There," he cried, heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh, "we've put a considerable breadth of water between us and these black rascals, so now we'll have a hearty supper and a sound sleep." "Hear, hear," cried Peterkin. "Nobly spoken, Jack. Hand me a drop of water, Ralph. Why, girl, what's wrong with you? You look just like a black owl blinking in the sunshine." ”
