Then again I lay in the heart of the forest upon some hillock, perhaps
a "giant's barrow," as they were traditionally called, and watched sly
Reynard steal out of his Castle Malepartus among the great stones, to
bask in the morning sun, while a few paces farther off his half-grown
cubs chased each other and rolled over and over in merry romp; or I
marked in the evening light a herd of deer crossing a clearing, the
stag in front with head proudly held aloft, and only lowered
occasionally to pick a peculiarly tempting tuft of herbage, while the
does came peacefully grazing after.
Again I stood on the heights, close to the verge of the steep
chalk-cliff, and looked longingly out over the blue sea, where on the
farthest horizon a little cloud marked the spot where the steamer which
I had been watching for an hour had disappeared, while in the middle
distance glittered the sails of a pair of fishing-boats. The speck of
cloud vanished, the white sails dwindled away, and with a sigh I turned
back into the forest, scarcely hoping now that I should succeed in
getting off the island.
Twice already I had made the attempt. Once at a small fishing village
that lay at the head of a narrow cove in a recess of the shore, and was
the picture of isolation and loneliness. But the men were all out
fishing; only a very old man and a couple of half-grown youths were at
home with the women and children. If the catch was a good one, it might
be two days before the men came back; and it was not likely then that
any one would take me so far. So said the old man, when I asked; while
a pair of red-haired children stood by staring at me with open mouths,
and an old woman came up and confirmed the man's statement, while the
sun sank below the horizon, and a cool breeze blew down the cove
towards the darkened sea.
It was the second day of my wandering. The first night I had passed in
a sheep-fold: I thought I might venture for once to sleep under a roof;
and the good wife to whom I made the proposal willingly gave up to me
the chamber of her son, who had sailed away three years before, and not
been heard of since. I might, very likely, have spent days in this
retired nook without being discovered; but the necessity of my getting
off the island was too pressing, and early on the next morning I set
out to try my fortune elsewhere.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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