Illustrations of political economy, Volume 7 (of 9)Martineau, Harriet
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Illustrations of political economy, Volume 7 (of 9)
Martineau, Harriet
Didactic fiction, English; Political fiction, English; Social problems -- Fiction
Moment by moment it strengthened, till the
sails of the boats began to bulge, and every torch and faggot of
cocoa-nut leaves on the beach slanted its forks of flame towards the
sea, as if to indicate to the voyagers their way. Then the signal-gun
boomed, its wreath of smoke curled lazily upward and dispersed itself in
the clear air, while a shout, in which every variety of voice was
mingled, seemed to chase the little fleet into the distance. The
shouting ceased amidst the anxiety of watching the clusters of receding
lights, which presently looked as if they had parted company with those
in the sky, and had become a degree less pure by their descent. Then
rose the song of the dancing-girls, as they stood grouped, each with a
jewelled arm withdrawn from beneath her mantle, and her jet-black hair
bound with strings of pearl. Mixed with their chaunt, came the
mutterings and gabblings of the charmers who remained on shore,
contorting their bodies more vehemently than would have been safe on any
footing less stable than terra-firma.
The most imposing part of the spectacle was now to the people at sea. As
their vessels were impelled by an unintermitting wind through the
calmest of seas, they were insensible to motion, and the scene on shore,
with its stir and its sound, seemed to recede like the image of a
phantasmagoria, till the flickering lights blended into one yellow haze
in which every distinct object was lost. It became at length like a dim
star, contrasting strangely in brightness and in hue with the
constellation which appeared to rise as rapidly as majestically over the
southern hills, like an auxiliary wheeling his silent force to restore
the invaded empire of night. Night now had here undisputed sway; for the
torches which flared at the prows of the boats were tokens of homage,
and not attempts at rivalship of her splendours.
Sailing is nearly as calculable a matter on these expeditions as a
journey of fifty miles in an English mail-coach. There is no need to
think about the duration of the darkness, in a region where the days and
nights never vary more than fifteen minutes from their equal length;
and, as for a fair wind, if it is certain that there will be one to
carry you straight out at ten to-night, it is equally certain that there
will be an opposite one to bring you straight in before noon to-morrow.
Nature here saves you the trouble of putting engine and paddle-box into
your boat, in order to be able to calculate your going forth and your
return. By the time the amber haze in the east was parting to disclose
the glories of a tropical sunrise, the fleet was stationed in a circle
over the banks. Every stray shark had received its commands to close its
jaws, and hie back to Adam’s Bridge; and on each side of every platform
stood five men, every one with his foot slung on the pyramidal stone,
whose weight must carry him nine fathoms down into the regions of
monstrous forms and terrifying motions.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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