Fiddlehead

Such a ship as the Rose of Devon frigate, standing out for the open sea, is a sight the world no longer affords. Those ships are “gone, gone, gone with lost Atlantis.” Their lofty poops, their little bonaventure masts, their lateen sails aft, their high forecastles and tall bowsprits with the square spritsail flaunted before the fiddlehead, came down from an even earlier day