Idonia: A Romance of Old LondonWallis, Arthur Frederick
History
Idonia: A Romance of Old London
Wallis, Arthur Frederick
Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
For the late upheaval had had its origin in the recesses of this barren
rock, which it had burst open as a robber bursts forth from his ambush,
and loosed that charging hurricane upon the sea. And indeed not this
island of Tre Torre only, but all these islands to the northward of
Sicily be so eaten under by fire, and liable to sudden calamity
therefrom, as none may properly be named habitable, though the most of
them be inhabited in despite of almost constant threatenings, until, as
this place was, they be at length in a night destroyed.
We sailed about the place in our ship, but found no living soul, and
night soon after falling, we were fain to use the shattered remnant of
the pirates' harbour, where we lay till the morning, very sad and
perplexed.
But a great while before full day I rose up alone and went ashore, in
the hope to light upon some vestiges of my uncle, or if not of him,
then of any of that infamous crew of the _Saracen's Head_. From the
one of the watch-towers that I found to be the least shaken I surveyed
the rock over every part, but could discover nothing more than that we
had before espied, namely, the few broken boards of a ship and spars
strewn about the sweep of ground betwixt the two promontories, and so
descended slowly to where they lay. And having descended but a little
of the broken path that led, as I judged, to the submerged hamlet
amidst the vineyards, I looked out upon the waters of the bay; and on
the sudden, clear beneath them, saw the hamlet, house by house, and the
pergolas of hanging vines. So translucent and untroubled was the water
at that hour that scarce anything the least was hid, but even the grass
between the stones I saw, yet fresh and waving, and the rusted tools
abandoned in the fields. An untended way led further off to the
temple, of which I could dimly perceive the pillars, between which
great silver fish swam in and out, and upon its steps the seaweed
slightly stirred.
But caught in the weed on the steps of the temple I saw a drowned man
lying, and when I had gone down to the edge of the shore, I knew him
for my uncle....
Of the rest we could find at first no trace at all, but (having sent
down divers into the deep water about the northward headland) we at
length recovered the bodies of Spurrier and Attwood and one or two
beside. When the ship had split, idly trusting to such pieces of the
wreck as they could lay hold of, they had evidently been dashed against
the rock, and so perished. But the prisoner in the hold had been
carried forward, as it seemed, almost into safety, but at the last had
been let slip. There was no hurt upon his body when we raised it, and
the features were unclouded by any premonition of his fate.
CHAPTER XXV
IW WHICH THE SHIPS OF WAR GO BY AND THE TALE ENDS
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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