EXCERPT The silver half-ring of a new moon was almost lost in the seamless, heavy quilt of an intensely black sky. In a display of opulent, high-class mourning, some strange undertaker had hurriedly laid out all of their best crepe and black velvet on the circle of the horizon. Immersed in this darkness, as if at the bottom of a reservoir, surrounded by craggy cliffs, I drifted in the dark current, which propelled and guided the ‘Viola’, the water itself imperceptibly dragging the montaria along with it. The helmsman kept a watchful eye on our placid passage through this cavern of night.…