When I was on the ship again I
felt safer, and I said nothing to the sailors of what I had seen.
And now the captain was gradually awakening. Now night was rolling up
from the East and North, and only the pinnacles of the towers of
Perdondaris still took the fallen sunlight. Then I went to the captain
and told him quietly of the thing I had seen. And he questioned me at
once about the gate, in a low voice, that the sailors might not know;
and I told him how the weight of the thing was such that it could not
have been brought from afar, and the captain knew that it had not been
there a year ago. We agreed that such a beast could never have been
killed by any assault of man, and that the gate must have been a
fallen tusk, and one fallen near and recently. Therefore he decided
that it were better to flee at once; so he commanded, and the sailors
went to the sails, and others raised the anchor to the deck, and just
as the highest pinnacle of marble lost the last rays of the sun we
left Perdondaris, that famous city. And night came down and cloaked
Perdondaris and hid it from our eyes, which as things have happened
will never see it again; for I have heard since that something swift
and wonderful has suddenly wrecked Perdondaris in a day--towers, and
walls, and people.
And the night deepened over the River Yann, a night all white with
stars. And with the night there arose the helmsman's song.
Pages:
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67