"Would you like to rest here a moment?"
"Yes," I said, and, leaning against the side of the port, looked out
at the beauty of the light.
"We are off Hatteras," he informed me, "but we have not met with
the stormy seas that vex poor mariners hereabouts. Those sails you
see on our quarter belong to our consort. We were separated by the
hurricane that nigh sunk us, and finally drove us, helpless as we
were, toward the Florida coast and across your path. For us that
was a fortunate reef upon which you dashed. The gods must have
made your helmsman blind, for he ran you into a destruction that
gaped not for you. Why did every wretch that we hung next
morning curse you before he died?"
"If I told you, you would not believe me," I replied.
I was dizzy with the bliss of the air and the light, and it seemed a
small thing that he would not believe me. The wind sounded in my
ears like a harp, and the sea beckoned. A white bird flashed down
into the crystal hollow between two waves, hung there a second,
then rose, a silver radiance against the blue. Suddenly I saw a
river, dark and ridged beneath thunderclouds, a boat, and in it, her
head pillowed upon her arm, a woman, who pretended that she
slept. With a shock my senses steadied, and I became myself
again. The sea was but the sea, the wind the wind; in the hold
below me lay my friend; somewhere in that ship was my wife; and
awaiting me in the state cabin were men who perhaps had the will,
as they had the right and the might, to hang me at the yardarm that
same hour.
Pages:
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288