Where the Atlantic becomes the Caribbean (through a childs eyes)

......it was a few days  out past the island of Haiti, and stories of the White Witch of Rose Hall, where the rough indigo blue of the Atlantic became the far gentler turquoise waters of the Caribbean. (I was only eleven years old) . The Atlantic ocean seemed like a  lonley and desolate expanse to me: the murky blue waters,extending all the way out to the horizon, on all sides, the ocassional passing of ships, the constant churning of the waves, the eternal rocking motion of the ship, the noise and force of the wind, the creeking of lifeboats, as they rocked in their berths, the sinister gliding of sharks fins cutting the surface of the water,the humping and spurting of whales, and the strange crys of the myraid creatures that inhabit the deep, One morning I woke up to a far fairer world: it was as if the ship was sailing though a vast sheet of liquid turquoise silk expanding out in all directions, as far as the eye could see, broken only in places by the playful froliking of dolphins, appearing and disappearing;, pink salmon, leaping skyward, leaving glistering sprays in their wake, distant islands of white sand fringed beaches, against this backdrop of apparently  soft,stone washed silk, billowing in gentle Caribbean breezes.

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