The wind seemed to have died completely so that the sails and flags hung limp.

The sails hung in their lines, deprived of life.

Again the wind died, the sails hung limp, the fog closed in tighter than before.

The yards were massive, the sails hanging from them like bulging curtains.

But it was a still, cold December day and their sails hung in limp festoons.

Though the world's wind blew strong as ever straight from the north now, the brown sail hung slack, unstirred.

They were still, as quiet as the sea and the sails hanging empty in then- gear.

Two fishing boats were working out to sea, their sails hanging slack, and the men at the sweeps.

I fell asleep with the sails hanging like laundry.

At midmorning, the sails hung slack and the ship slowed.