When darkness came suddenly at last, he made in toward shore,
mooring to the warm-fretted end of a fallen and forgotten landing.
A straggling orange-grove was here, broken lines of vanquished
cultivation, struggling little trees swathed and choked in the
festooning gray moss, still showing here and there the valiant
golden gleam of fruit. Gideon had seen many such places, had
seen settlers come and clear themselves a space in the jungle,
plant their groves, and live for a while in lazy independence;
and then for some reason or other they would go, and before they
had scarcely turned their backs, the jungle had crept in again,
patiently restoring its ancient sovereignty. The place was eery
with the ghost of dead effort; but it pleased him.
He made a fire and cooked supper, eating enormously and with
relish. His conscience did not trouble him at all. Stuhk and
his own career seemed already distant; they took small place in
his thoughts, and served merely as a background for his present
absolute content. He picked some oranges, and ate them in
meditative enjoyment. For a while he nodded, half asleep, beside
his fire, watching the darkened river, where the mullet, shimmering
with phosphorescence, still leaped starkly above the surface, and
fell in spattering brilliance. Midnight found him sprawled asleep
beside his fire.
Once he awoke. The moon had risen, and a little breeze waved the
hanging moss, and whispered in the glossy foliage of orange and
palmetto with a sound like falling rain. Gideon sat up and peered
about him, rolling his eyes hither and thither at the menacing
leap and dance of the jet shadows. His heart was beating thickly,
his muscles twitched, and the awful terrors of night pulsed and
shuddered over him. Nameless specters peered at him from every
shadow, ingenerate familiars of his wild, forgotten blood. He
groaned aloud in a delicious terror; and presently, still twitching
and shivering, fell asleep again. It was as if something magical
had happened; his fear remembered the fear of centuries, and yet
with the warm daylight was absolutely forgotten.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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