Armorel of Lyonesse: A Romance of To-dayBesant, Walter
General
Armorel of Lyonesse: A Romance of To-day
Besant, Walter
Fraud -- Fiction; Isles of Scilly (England) -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
An admirable rabbit-pie, and an excellent cake-pudding. Also, there
had not been forgotten a stone jar filled with that home-brewed of
which the like can no longer be found in any other spot in the British
Islands. I hope one need do no more than indicate the truly
appreciative havoc wrought by the young gentleman among all these good
gifts and blessings.
After dinner, to lie in the sunshine and have a pipe, looking across
the wide stretch of sunny water to the broken line of rocks and the
blue horizon beyond, was happiness undeserved. Beside him sat the
girl, anxious that he should be happy--thinking of nothing but what
might best please her guest.
Then they got into the boat again, and sailed half a mile or so due
north by the compass, until they came within another separate
archipelago, of which Mincarlo is an outlying companion.
It is the group of rocks, called the Outer or the Western Islands,
lying tumbled about in the water west of Bryher and Samson. Some of
them are close together, some are separated by broad channels. Here
the sea is never calm: at the foot of the rocks stretch out ledges,
some of them bare at low water, revealing their ugly black stone
teeth: the swell of the Atlantic on the calmest days rises and falls
and makes white eddies, broken water, and flying spray. Among these
rocks they rowed: Peter and Roland taking the oars, while Armorel
steered. They rowed round Maiden Bower, with its cluster of granite
forts defying the whole strength of the Atlantic, which will want
another hundred thousand years to grind them down--about and among the
Black Rocks and the Seal Rocks, dark and threatening: they landed on
Ilyswillig, with his peak of fifty feet, a strange wild island: they
stood on the ledge of Castle Bryher and looked up at the tower of
granite which rises out of the water like the round keep of a Norman
castle: they hoisted sail and stood out to Scilly himself, where his
twin rocks command the entrance to the islands. Scilly is of the dual
number: he consists of two great mountains rising from the water
sheer, precipitous, and threatening: each about eighty feet high, but
with the air of eight hundred; each black and square and terrible of
aspect: they are separated by a narrow channel hardly broad enough for
a boat to pass through.
'One day last year,' said Armorel--'it was in July, after a fortnight
of fine weather--we went through this channel, Peter and I--didn't we,
Peter? It was a dead calm, and at high tide.'
The boy nodded his head.
The channel was now, the tide being nearly high, like a foaming
torrent, through which the water raced and rushed, boiling into
whirlpools, foaming and tearing at the sides. The rapids below Niagara
are not fiercer than was this channel, though the day was so fair and
the sea without so quiet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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