The Merman's Children.
The black cog Herning pulls out to sea so, of course, Poul Anderson describes the sea. We look out for at least three senses and, of course, we find them:
"It was a clear day; the sun cast dazzling glitter across gray-green-blue whitecaps. Wind skirled, rigging thrummed, timbers creaked as the cog's cutwater surged with a bone in its teeth. Overhead, gulls mewed and made a snowstorm of wings. A smell of salt and tar blew around." (pp. 41-42)
I thought that I recognized the comparison of gulls with snow so I searched the blog for "snowstorm" and found Smoke And Seagulls. We recently had "rig-thrum." Our old friend, the wind, forever skirls. Waves have been gray, green and blue before. Timbers have creaked. Gulls have mewed. Sometimes by the sea salt is not only smelled but tasted. The sun casts light and color.
Thus, in this passage, Anderson deploys familiar ingredients but, as always, combines them in a new composition.