From the steamer one could see neither the water, nor the
shore, nor the sky; a leaden-gray gloominess enwrapped it on all
sides; devoid of shadings, painfully monotonous, the gloominess
was motionless, it oppressed the steamer with immeasurable
weight, slackened its movements and seemed as though preparing
itself to swallow it even as it was swallowing the sounds. In
spite of the dull blows of the paddles upon the water and the
measured shaking of the body of the vessel, it seemed that the
steamer was painfully struggling on one spot, suffocating in
agony, hissing like a fairy tale monster breathing his last,
howling in the pangs of death, howling with pain, and in the fear
of death.
Lifeless were the steamer lights. About the lantern on the mast a
yellow motionless spot had formed; devoid of lustre, it hung in
the fog over the steamer, illuminating nothing save the gray
mist. The red starboard light looked like a huge eye crushed out
by some one's cruel fist, blinded, overflowing with blood. Pale
rays of light fell from the steamer's windows into the fog, and
only tinted its cold, cheerless dominion over the vessel, which
was pressed on all sides by the motionless mass of stifling
dampness.
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