He leant over, and dipped up a little in the palm of his hand; it did not appear black in such a small quantity, it seemed a rusty brown, but he became aware of an offensive odour.

The odour clung to his hand, and he could not remove it, to his great disgust.

It was like nothing he had ever smelt before, and not in the least like the vapour of marshes.
By now being some distance from any island, the wavelets increased in size, and spray flew on board, wetting everything with this black liquid.

Instead of level marshes and the end of the gulf, it appeared as if the water were deep, and also as if it widened.

Exposed to the full press of the gale, Felix began to fear that he should not be able to return very easily against it.