There was no standing all this, especially as Flamingo followed him
close, and standing behind him, a little to one side--on his starboard
quarter as he himself would have said--made signs to him in the glass
to advance, on which the sailor made a tipsy bolt of it, and was a
second time brought up by the brass rods--nor was he convinced of his
mistake until he felt the cold surface of the plate glass with his
great paw. Twig now kindly interfered and got the poor skipper away,
and bestowed on a sofa, and dancing recommenced with redoubled energy.
The fiddlers scraped with all their might, the man who played the
octave flute whistled like a curlew, and the tabor was fiercely beaten,
rumpti, tumpti, while the black ballet-master sung out sharp and shrill
his mongrel French directions, his _chassées_ and his _balancées_ to
massa dis, and misses dat, indicating the parties by name; who
thereupon pricked up their ears, and looking as grave as judges,
pointed their toes, and did, or attempted to do, as they were bid.
But, as I was overheated, I strolled into the piazza fronting the sea,
where the lights by this time had either burned out, or had been
removed--it was very dark. I walked to the corner farthest from the
noise of the dancers, and peered through the open _jealousies_, or
blinds, on the scene below.
The moon was in the second quarter, and by this time within an hour of
her setting. She cast a long trembling wake of faint greenish light on
the quiet harbour below, across which the land wind would occasionally
shoot in catspaws, dimming and darkening the shining surface (as if
from the winnowing of the wings of passing spirits of the air), until
they died away again, leaving their whereabouts indicated by streaks of
tiny ripples, sparkling like diamonds in the moonbeams. Clear of the
bay, but in shore, the water continued as smooth as glass, although out
at sea there seemed to be a light air still, the last faint breathings
of the dying sea-breeze. The heavy clouds that had emptied themselves
on our devoted heads in the early part of the night, had by this time
settled down in a black, wool-fringed bank in the west, the fleecy
margin of which the moon had gloriously lit up, and was fast
approaching. The stars overhead, as the lovely planet verged towards
her setting, sparkled with more intense brightness in the deep blue
firmament; more profoundly dark and pure, one would have thought, from
the heavy squalls we had recently had.
There was only another person in the piazza beside myself, and he was
looking steadily out on the ocean. He was about ten yards from me, and
in the obscurity I could not well distinguish his figure.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account