Meanwhile they glide out of the harbor, and the breeze plays among the
ropes. The seamen draw in their oars, and hoist their sails. When half
or less of their course was passed, as night drew on, the sea began to
whiten with swelling waves, and the east wind to blow a gale. The master
gave the word to take in sail, but the storm forbade obedience, for such
is the roar of the winds and waves his orders are unheard. The men, of
their own accord, busy themselves to secure the oars, to strengthen the
ship, to reef the sail. While they thus do what to each one seems best,
the storm increases. The shouting of the men, the rattling of the
shrouds, and the dashing of the waves, mingle with the roar of the
thunder. The swelling sea seems lifted up to the heavens, to scatter its
foam among the clouds; then sinking away to the bottom assumes the color
of the shoal—a Stygian blackness.
The vessel shares all these changes. It seems like a wild beast that
rushes on the spears of the hunters. Rain falls in torrents, as if the
skies were coming down to unite with the sea. When the lightning ceases
for a moment, the night seems to add its own darkness to that of the
storm; then comes the flash, rending the darkness asunder, and lighting
up all with a glare. Skill fails, courage sinks, and death seems to come
on every wave. The men are stupefied with terror. The thought of
parents, and kindred, and pledges left at home, comes over their minds.
Ceyx thinks of Halcyone. No name but hers is on his lips, and while he
yearns for her, he yet rejoices in her absence. Presently the mast is
shattered by a stroke of lightning, the rudder broken, and the
triumphant surge curling over looks down upon the wreck, then falls, and
crushes it to fragments. Some of the seamen, stunned by the stroke,
sink, and rise no more; others cling to fragments of the wreck. Ceyx,
with the hand that used to grasp the sceptre, holds fast to a plank,
calling for help,—alas, in vain,—upon his father and his
father-in-law. But oftenest on his lips was the name of Halcyone. To her
his thoughts cling. He prays that the waves may bear his body to her
sight, and that it may receive burial at her hands. At length the waters
overwhelm him, and he sinks. The Day-star looked dim that night. Since
it could not leave the heavens, it shrouded its face with clouds.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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