She got up, smoothed her hair, and went on deck, to find that she had
slept for many hours, for the sun was setting. She went aft to where
Mrs. Thomas was sitting near the wheel with little Dick beside her, and
after greeting them, turned to watch the sunset. The sight was a
beautiful one enough, for the great waves, driven by the westerly wind,
which in these latitudes is nearly always blowing half a gale, were
rushing past them wild and free, and the sharp spray of their foaming
crests struck upon her forehead like a whip. The sun was setting, and
the arrows of the dying light flew fast and far across the billowy
bosom of the deep. Fast and far they flew from the stormy glory in the
west, lighting up the pale surfaces of cloud, and tinging the grey
waters of that majestic sea with a lurid hue of blood. They kissed the
bellying sails, and seemed to rest upon the vessel’s lofty trucks, and
then travelled on and away, and away, through the great empyrean of
space till they broke and vanished upon the horizon’s rounded edge.
There behind them—miles behind—Kerguelen Land reared its fierce cliffs
against the twilight sky. Clear and desolate they towered in an
unutterable solitude, and on their snowy surfaces the sunbeams beat
coldly as the warm breath of some human passion beating on Aphrodite’s
marble breast.
Augusta gazed upon those drear cliffs that had so nearly proved her
monumental pile and shuddered. It was as a hideous dream.
And then the dark and creeping shadows of the night threw their veils
around and over them, and they vanished. They were swallowed up in
blackness, and she lost sight of them and of the great seas that
forever beat and churn about their stony feet; nor except in dreams,
did she again set her eyes upon their measureless solitude.
The Night arose in strength and shook a golden dew of stars from the
tresses of her streaming clouds, till the wonderful deep heavens
sparkled with a myriad gemmy points. The west wind going on his way
sung his wild chant amongst the cordage, and rushed among the sails as
with a rush of wings. The ship leant over like a maiden shrinking from
a kiss, then, shivering, fled away, leaping from billow to billow as
they rose and tossed their white arms about her, fain to drag her down
and hold her to ocean’s heaving breast.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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