The One Man, Not 30

The ship was made up of all contrasting things, oak and maple and pinewood. All these ran into each other in the one concrete hull which shot on its way. This seemed the symbol of that unseen agency which so enslaved them to the race. The rigging lived the mast heads, like the tops of tall palms,. tufted with arms and legs clinging to a spar. Ah how they strove through that infinite blueness to seek out the thing that might destroy them.