Read it through once

The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter of the sails, and was at rest. The flood had made, the wind was nearly calm, and being bound down the river I had time to think over certain curious queries which rose, and would not down, in my breast. I had for some time been steeped in the romance of voyage; I had been making rivers for the best part of my life, and was pretty well grounded in the traditions and legend of the sea. We were of course going to tell yarns about adventures, and by slow degrees there grew up in me a craving to be among men again, to hear the yarns and tell some, and to look at the sea.