Anthony Adverse by Hervey Allen

Down the long, blue coasts of Cuba sailed the Wampanoag with her mate in the shrouds gazing inland as often and as long as the August sun on the Tropic of Cancer would permit.

In the mornings, when he first heard the men begin to holystone the decks and swish water about, he would go aloft with the small-glass sticking out of his coat pocket. Then crooking a knee about one of the stays and steadying himself, he took deep lungfuls of the rich land-breeze which lulled through the sails at that hour.