Robert Louis Stevenson,
Treasure Island
(1909)
“ For the rest, the Hispaniola must trust to luck, like myself. By this time the whole anchorage had fallen into shadow—the last rays, I remember, falling through a glade of the wood, and shining bright as jewels on the flowery mantle of the wreck. It began to be chill, the tide was rapidly fleeting seaward, the schooner settling more and more on her beam-ends. ”
