“THE Captain is still in the prime of life,” the widow remarked. “He has given up his ship; he possesses a sufficient income, and he has nobody to live with him. I should like to know why he doesn’t marry.”
“The Captain was excessively rude to Me,” the widow’s younger sister added, on her side. “When we took leave of him in London, I asked if there was any chance of his joining us at Brighton this season. He turned his back on me as if I had mortally offended him; and he made me this extraordinary answer: ‘Miss! I hate the sight of the sea.’ The man has been a sailor all his life. What does he mean by saying that he hates the sight of the sea?”
These questions were addressed to a third person present—and the person was a man. He was entirely1 at the mercy of the widow and the widow’s sister. The other ladies of the family—who might have taken him under their protection—had gone to an evening concert. He was known to be the Captain’s friend, and to be well acquainted with events in the Captain’s life. As it happened, he had reasons for hesitating to revive associations connected with those events. But what polite alternative was left to him? He must either inflict2 disappointment, and, worse still, aggravate3 curiosity—or he must resign himself to circumstances, and tell the ladies why the Captain would never marry, and why (sailor as he was) he hated the sight of the sea. They were both young women and handsome women—and the person to whom they had appealed (being a man) followed the example of submission4 to the sex, first set in the garden of Eden. He enlightened the ladies, in the terms that follow:
THE British merchantman, Fortuna, sailed from the port of Liverpool (at a date which it is not necessary to specify) with the morning tide. She was bound for certain islands in the Pacific Ocean, in search of a cargo5 of sandal-wood—a commodity which, in those days, found a ready and profitable market in the Chinese Empire.
A large discretion6 was reposed7 in the Captain by the owners, who knew him to be not only trustworthy, but a man of rare ability, carefully cultivated during the leisure hours of a seafaring life. Devoted10 heart and soul to his professional duties, he was a hard reader and an excellent linguist11 as well. Having had considerable experience among the inhabitants of the Pacific Islands, he had attentively12 studied their characters, and had mastered their language in more than one of its many dialects. Thanks to the valuable information thus obtained, the Captain was never at a loss to conciliate the islanders. He had more than once succeeded in finding a cargo under circumstances in which other captains had failed.
Possessing these merits, he had also his fair share of human defects. For instance, he was a little too conscious of his own good looks—of his bright chestnut13 hair and whiskers, of his beautiful blue eyes, of his fair white skin, which many a woman had looked at with the admiration14 that is akin15 to envy. His shapely hands were protected by gloves; a broad-brimmed hat sheltered his complexion16 in fine weather from the sun. He was nice in the choice of his perfumes; he never drank spirits, and the smell of tobacco was abhorrent17 to him. New men among his officers and his crew, seeing him in his cabin, perfectly18 dressed, washed, and brushed until he was an object speckless19 to look upon—a merchant-captain soft of voice, careful in his choice of words, devoted to study in his leisure hours—were apt to conclude that they had trusted themselves at sea under a commander who was an anomalous20 mixture of a schoolmaster and a dandy. But if the slightest infraction21 of discipline took place, or if the storm rose and the vessel22 proved to be in peril23, it was soon discovered that the gloved hands held a rod of iron; that the soft voice could make itself heard through wind and sea from one end of the deck to the other; and that it issued orders which the greatest fool on board discovered to be orders that had saved the ship. Throughout his professional life, the general impression that this variously gifted man produced on the little world about him was always the same. Some few liked him; everybody respected him; nobody understood him. The Captain accepted these results. He persisted in reading his books and protecting his complexion, with this result: his owners shook hands with him, and put up with his gloves.
The Fortuna touched at Rio for water, and for supplies of food which might prove useful in case of scurvy24. In due time the ship rounded Cape25 Horn, favored by the finest weather ever known in those latitudes26 by the oldest hand on board. The mate—one Mr. Duncalf—a boozing, wheezing27, self-confident old sea-dog, with a flaming face and a vast vocabulary of oaths, swore that he didn’t like it. “The foul28 weather’s coming, my lads,” said Mr. Duncalf. “Mark my words, there’ll be wind enough to take the curl out of the Captain’s whiskers before we are many days older!”
For one uneventful week, the ship cruised in search of the islands to which the owners had directed her. At the end of that time the wind took the predicted liberties with the Captain’s whiskers; and Mr. Duncalf stood revealed to an admiring crew in the character of a true prophet.
For three days and three nights the Fortuna ran before the storm, at the mercy of wind and sea. On the fourth morning the gale29 blew itself out, the sun appeared again toward noon, and the Captain was able to take an observation. The result informed him that he was in a part of the Pacific Ocean with which he was entirely unacquainted. Thereupon, the officers were called to a council in the cabin.
Mr. Duncalf, as became his rank, was consulted first. His opinion possessed30 the merit of brevity. “My lads, this ship’s bewitched. Take my word for it, we shall wish ourselves back in our own latitudes before we are many days older.” Which, being interpreted, meant that Mr. Duncalf was lost, like his superior officer, in a part of the ocean of which he knew nothing.
The remaining members of the council having no suggestions to offer, left the Captain to take his own way. He decided31 (the weather being fine again) to stand on under an easy press of sail for four-and-twenty hours more, and to see if anything came of it.
Soon after nightfall, something did come of it. The lookout32 forward hailed the quarter-deck with the dread33 cry, “Breakers ahead!” In less than a minute more, everybody heard the crash of the broken water. The Fortuna was put about, and came round slowly in the light wind. Thanks to the timely alarm and the fine weather, the safety of the vessel was easily provided for. They kept her under a short sail; and they waited for the morning.
The dawn showed them in the distance a glorious green island, not marked in the ship’s charts—an island girt about by a coral-reef, and having in its midst a high-peaked mountain which looked, through the telescope, like a mountain of volcanic34 origin. Mr. Duncalf, taking his morning draught35 of rum and water, shook his groggy36 old head and said (and swore): “My lads, I don’t like the look of that island.” The Captain was of a different opinion. He had one of the ship’s boats put into the water; he armed himself and four of his crew who accompanied him; and away he went in the morning sunlight to visit the island.
Skirting round the coral reef, they found a natural breach37, which proved to be broad enough and deep enough not only for the passage of the boat, but of the ship herself if needful. Crossing the broad inner belt of smooth water, they approached the golden sands of the island, strew38 ed with magnificent shells, and crowded by the dusky islanders—men, women, and children, all waiting in breathless astonishment39 to see the strangers land.
The Captain kept the boat off, and examined the islanders carefully. The innocent, simple people danced, and sang, and ran into the water, imploring40 their wonderful white visitors by gestures to come on shore. Not a creature among them carried arms of any sort; a hospitable41 curiosity animated42 the entire population. The men cried out, in their smooth musical language, “Come and eat!” and the plump black-eyed women, all laughing together, added their own invitation, “Come and be kissed!” Was it in mortals to resist such temptations as these? The Captain led the way on shore, and the women surrounded him in an instant, and screamed for joy at the glorious spectacle of his whiskers, his complexion, and his gloves. So the mariners43 from the far north were welcomed to the newly-discovered island.
III.
THE morning wore on. Mr. Duncalf, in charge of the ship, cursing the island over his rum and water, as a “beastly green strip of a place, not laid down in any Christian44 chart,” was kept waiting four mortal hours before the Captain returned to his command, and reported himself to his officers as follows:
He had found his knowledge of the Polynesian dialects sufficient to make himself in some degree understood by the natives of the new island. Under the guidance of the chief he had made a first journey of exploration, and had seen for himself that the place was a marvel45 of natural beauty and fertility. The one barren spot in it was the peak of the volcanic mountain, composed of crumbling46 rock; originally no doubt lava47 and ashes, which had cooled and consolidated48 with the lapse49 of time. So far as he could see, the crater50 at the top was now an extinct crater. But, if he had understood rightly, the chief had spoken of earthquakes and eruptions52 at certain bygone periods, some of which lay within his own earliest recollections of the place.
Adverting54 next to considerations of practical utility, the Captain announced that he had seen sandal-wood enough on the island to load a dozen ships, and that the natives were willing to part with it for a few toys and trinkets generally distributed among them. To the mate’s disgust, the Fortuna was taken inside the reef that day, and was anchored before sunset in a natural harbor. Twelve hours of recreation, beginning with the next morning, were granted to the men, under the wise restrictions55 in such cases established by the Captain. That interval56 over, the work of cutting the precious wood and loading the ship was to be unremittingly pursued.
Mr. Duncalf had the first watch after the Fortuna had been made snug57. He took the boatswain aside (an ancient sea-dog like himself), and he said in a gruff whisper: “My lad, this here ain’t the island laid down in our sailing orders. See if mischief58 don’t come of disobeying orders before we are many days older.”
Nothing in the shape of mischief happened that night. But at sunrise the next morning a suspicious circumstance occurred; and Mr. Duncalf whispered to the boatswain: “What did I tell you?” The Captain and the chief of the islanders held a private conference in the cabin, and the Captain, after first forbidding any communication with the shore until his return, suddenly left the ship, alone with the chief, in the chief’s own canoe.
What did this strange disappearance59 mean? The Captain himself, when he took his seat in the canoe, would have been puzzled to answer that question. He asked, in the nearest approach that his knowledge could make to the language used in the island, whether he would be a long time or a short time absent from his ship.
The chief answered mysteriously (as the Captain understood him) in these words: “Long time or short time, your life depends on it, and the lives of your men.”
Paddling his light little boat in silence over the smooth water inside the reef, the chief took his visitor ashore60 at a part of the island which was quite new to the Captain. The two crossed a ravine, and ascended61 an eminence62 beyond. There the chief stopped, and silently pointed63 out to sea.
The Captain looked in the direction indicated to him, and discovered a second and a smaller island, lying away to the southwest. Taking out his telescope from the case by which it was slung64 at his back, he narrowly examined the place. Two of the native canoes were lying off the shore of the new island; and the men in them appeared to be all kneeling or crouching65 in curiously66 chosen attitudes. Shifting the range of his glass, he next beheld67 a white-robed figure, tall and solitary68—the one inhabitant of the island whom he could discover. The man was standing69 on the highest point of a rocky cape. A fire was burning at his feet. Now he lifted his arms solemnly to the sky; now he dropped some invisible fuel into the fire, which made a blue smoke; and now he cast other invisible objects into the canoes floating beneath him, which the islanders reverently70 received with bodies that crouched71 in abject72 submission. Lowering his telescope, the Captain looked round at the chief for an explanation. The chief gave the explanation readily. His language was interpreted by the English stranger in these terms:
“Wonderful white man! the island you see yonder is a Holy Island. As such it is Taboo73—an island sanctified and set apart. The honorable person whom you notice on the rock is an all-powerful favorite of the gods. He is by vocation74 a Sorcerer, and by rank a Priest. You now see him casting charms and blessings75 into the canoes of our fishermen, who kneel to him for fine weather and great plenty of fish. If any profane76 person, native or stranger, presumes to set foot on that island, my otherwise peaceful subjects will (in the performance of a religious duty) put that person to death. Mention this to your men. They will be fed by my male people, and fondled by my female people, so long as they keep clear of the Holy Isle77. As they value their lives, let them respect this prohibition78. Is it understood between us? Wonderful white man! my canoe is waiting for you. Let us go back.”
Understanding enough of the chief’s language (illustrated by his gestures) to receive in the right spirit the communication thus addressed to him, the Captain repeated the warning to the ship’s company in the plainest possible English. The officers and men then took their holiday on shore, with the exception of Mr. Duncalf, who positively79 refused to leave the ship. For twelve delightful80 hours they were fed by the male people, and fondled by the female people, and then they were mercilessly torn from the flesh-pots and the arms of their new friends, and set to work on the sandal-wood in good earnest. Mr. Duncalf superintended the loading, and waited for the mischief that was to come of disobeying the owners’ orders with a confidence worthy9 of a better cause.
IV.
STRANGELY enough, chance once more declared itself in favor of the mate’s point of view. The mischief did actually come; and the chosen instrument of it was a handsome young islander, who was one of the sons of the chief.
The Captain had taken a fancy to the sweet-tempered, intelligent lad. Pursuing his studies in the dialect of the island, at leisure hours, he had made the chief’s son his tutor, and had instructed the youth in English by way of return. More than a month had passed in this intercourse81, and the ship’s lading was being rapidly completed—when, in an evil hour, the talk between the two turned on the subject of the Holy Island.
“Does nobody live on the island but the Priest?” the Captain asked.
The chief’s son looked round him suspiciously. “Promise me you won’t tell anybody!” he began very earnestly.
The Captain gave his promise.
“There is one other person on the island,” the lad whispered; “a person to feast your eyes upon, if you could only see her! She is the Priest’s daughter. Removed to the island in her infancy82, she has never left it since. In that sacred solitude83 she has only looked on two human beings—her father and her mother. I once saw her from my canoe, taking care not to attract her notice, or to approach too near the holy soil. Oh, so young, dear master, and, oh, so beautiful!” The chief’s son completed the description by kissing his own hands as an expression of rapture84.
The Captain’s fine blue eyes sparkled. He asked no more questions; but, later on that day, he took his telescope with him, and paid a secret visit to the eminence which overlooked the Holy Island. The next day, and the next, he privately85 returned to the same place. On the fourth day, fatal Destiny favored him. He discovered the nymph of the island.
Standing alone upon the cape on which he had already seen her father, she was feeding some tame birds which looked like turtle-doves. The glass showed the Captain her white robe, fluttering in the sea-breeze; her long black hair falling to her feet; her slim and supple86 young figure; her simple grace of attitude, as she turned this way and that, attending to the wants of her birds. Before her was the blue ocean; behind her rose the lustrous87 green of the island forest. He looked and looked until his eyes and arms ached. When she disappeared among the trees, followed by her favorite birds, the Captain shut up his telescope with a sigh, and said to himself: “I have seen an angel!”
From that hour he became an altered man; he was languid, silent, interested in nothing. General opinion, on board his ship, decided that he was going to be taken ill.
A week more elapsed, and the officers and crew began to talk of the voyage to their market in China. The Captain refused to fix a day for sailing. He even took offense88 at being asked to decide. Instead of sleeping in his cabin, he went ashore for the night.
Not many hours afterward89 (just before daybreak), Mr. Duncalf, snoring in his cabin on deck, was aroused by a hand laid on his shoulder. The swinging lamp, still alight, showed him the dusky face of the chief’s son, convulsed with terror. By wild signs, by disconnected words in the little English which he had learned, the lad tried to make the mate understand him. Dense90 Mr. Duncalf, understanding nothing, hailed the second officer, on the opposite side of the deck. The second officer was young and intelligent; he rightly interpreted the terrible news that had come to the ship.
The Captain had broken his own rules. Watching his opportunity, under cover of the night, he had taken a canoe, and had secretly crossed the channel to the Holy Island. No one had been near him at the time but the chief’s son. The lad had vainly tried to induce him to abandon his desperate enterprise, and had vainly waited on the shore in the hope of hearing the sound of the paddle announcing his return. Beyond all reasonable doubt, the infatuated man had set foot on the shores of the tabooed island.
The one chance for his life was to conceal91 what he had done, until the ship could be got out of the harbor, and then (if no harm had come to him in the interval) to rescue him after nightfall. It was decided to spread the report that he had really been taken ill, and that he was confined to his cabin. The chief’s son, whose heart the Captain’s kindness had won, could be trusted to do this, and to keep the secret faithfully for his good friend’s sake.
Toward noon, the next day, they attempted to take the ship to sea, and failed for want of wind. Hour by hour, the heat grew more oppressive. As the day declined, there were ominous92 appearances in the western heaven. The natives, who had given some trouble during the day by their anxiety to see the Captain, and by their curiosity to know the cause of the sudden preparations for the ship’s departure, all went ashore together, looking suspiciously at the sky, and reappeared no more. Just at midnight, the ship (still in her snug berth93 inside the reef) suddenly trembled from her keel to her uppermost masts. Mr. Duncalf, surrounded by the startled crew, shook his knotty94 fist at the island as if he could see it in the dark. “My lads, what did I tell you? That was a shock of earthquake.”
With the morning the threatening aspect of the weather unexpectedly disappeared. A faint hot breeze from the land, just enough to give the ship steerage-way, offered Mr. Duncalf a chance of getting to sea. Slowly the Fortuna, with the mate himself at the wheel, half sailed, half drifted into the open ocean. At a distance of barely two miles from the island the breeze was felt no more, and the vessel lay becalmed for the rest of the day.
At night the men waited their orders, expecting to be sent after their Captain in one of the boats. The intense darkness, the airless heat, and a second shock of earthquake (faintly felt in the ship at her present distance from the land) warned the mate to be cautious. “I smell mischief in the air,” said Mr. Duncalf. “The Captain must wait till I am surer of the weather.”
Still no change came with the new day. The dead calm continued, and the airless heat. As the day declined, another ominous appearance became visible. A thin line of smoke was discovered through the telescope, ascending95 from the topmost peak of the mountain on the main island. Was the volcano threatening an eruption53? The mate, for one, entertained no doubt of it. “By the Lord, the place is going to burst up!” said Mr. Duncalf. “Come what may of it, we must find the Captain to-night!”
V.
WHAT was the Captain doing? and what chance had the crew of finding him that night?
He had committed himself to his desperate adventure, without forming any plan for the preservation96 of his own safety; without giving even a momentary97 consideration to the consequences which might follow the risk that he had run. The charming figure that he had seen haunted him night and day. The image of the innocent creature, secluded98 from humanity in her island solitude, was the one image that filled his mind. A man, passing a woman in the street, acts on the impulse to turn and follow her, and in that one thoughtless moment shapes the destiny of his future life. The Captain had acted on a similar impulse, when he took the first canoe he had found on the beach, and shaped his reckless course for the tabooed island.
Reaching the shore while it was still dark, he did one sensible thing—he hid the canoe so that it might not betray him when the daylight came. That done, he waited for the morning on the outskirts99 of the forest.
The trembling light of dawn revealed the mysterious solitude around him. Following the outer limits of the trees, first in one direction, then in another, and finding no trace of any living creature, he decided on penetrating100 to the interior of the island. He entered the forest.
An hour of walking brought him to rising ground. Continuing the ascent101, he got clear of the trees, and stood on the grassy102 top of a broad cliff which overlooked the sea. An open hut was on the cliff. He cautiously looked in, and discovered that it was empty. The few household utensils103 left about, and the simple bed of leaves in a corner, were covered with fine sandy dust. Night-birds flew blundering out of the inner cavities of the roof, and took refuge in the shadows of the forest below. It was plain that the hut had not been inhabited for some time past.
Standing at the open doorway104 and considering what he should do next, the Captain saw a bird flying toward him out of the forest. It was a turtle-dove, so tame that it fluttered close up to him. At the same moment the sound of sweet laughter became audible among the trees. His heart beat fast; he advanced a few steps and stopped. In a moment more the nymph of the island appeared, in her white robe, ascending the cliff in pursuit of her truant105 bird. She saw the strange man, and suddenly stood still; struck motionless by the amazing discovery that had burst upon her. The Captain approached, smiling and holding out his hand. She never moved; she stood before him in helpless wonderment—her lovely black eyes fixed106 spellbound on his face; her dusky bosom107 palpitating above the fallen folds of her robe; her rich red lips parted in mute astonishment. Feasting his eyes on her beauty in silence, the Captain after a while ventured to speak to her in the language of the main island. The sound of his voice, addressing her in the words that she understood, roused the lovely creature to action. She started, stepped close up to him, and dropped on her knees at his feet.
“My father worships invisible deities,” she said, softly. “Are you a visible deity108? Has my mother sent you?” She pointed as she spoke51 to the deserted109 hut behind them. “You appear,” she went on, “in the place where my mother died. Is it for her sake that you show yourself to her child? Beautiful deity, come to the Temple—come to my father!”
The Captain gently raised her from the ground. If her father saw him, he was a doomed110 man.
Infatuated as he was, he had sense enough left to announce himself plainly in his own character, as a mortal creature arriving from a distant land. The girl instantly drew back from him with a look of terror.
“He is not like my father,” she said to herself; “he is not like me. Is he the lying demon111 of the prophecy? Is he the predestined destroyer of our island?”
The Captain’s experience of the sex showed him the only sure way out of the awkward position in which he was now placed. He appealed to his personal appearance.
“Do I look like a demon?” he asked.
Her eyes met his eyes; a faint smile trembled on her lips. He ventured on asking what she meant by the predestined destruction of the island. She held up her hand solemnly, and repeated the prophecy.
The Holy Island was threatened with destruction by an evil being, who would one day appear on its shores. To avert112 the fatality113 the place had been sanctified and set apart, under the protection of the gods and their priest. Here was the reason for the taboo, and for the extraordinary rigor114 with which it was enforced. Listening to her with the deepest interest, the Captain took her hand and pressed it gently.
“Do I feel like a demon?” he whispered.
Her slim brown fingers closed frankly115 on his hand. “You feel soft and friendly,” she said with the fearless candor116 of a child. “Squeeze me again. I like it!”
The next moment she snatched her hand away from him; the sense of his danger had suddenly forced itself on her mind. “If my father sees you,” she said, “he will light the signal fire at the Temple, and the people from the other island will come here and put you to death. Where is your canoe? No! It is daylight. My father may see you on the water.” She considered a little, and, approaching him, laid her hands on his shoulders. “Stay here till nightfall,” she resumed. “My father never comes this way. The sight of the place where my mother died is horrible to him. You are safe here. Promise to stay where you are till night-time.”
The Captain gave his promise.
Freed from anxiety so far, the girl’s mobile temperament117 recovered its native cheerfulness, its sweet gayety and spirit. She admired the beautiful stranger as she might have admired a new bird that had flown to her to be fondled with the rest. She patted his fair white skin, and wished she had a skin like it. She lifted the great glossy118 folds of her long black hair, and compared it with the Captain’s bright curly locks, and longed to change colors with him from the bottom of her heart. His dress was a wonder to her; his watch was a new revelation. She rested her head on his shoulder to listen delightedly to the ticking, as he held the watch to her ear. Her fragrant119 breath played on his face, her warm, supple figure rested against him softly. The Captain’s arm stole round her waist, and the Captain’s lips gently touched her cheek. She lifted her head with a look of pleased surprise. “Thank you,” said the child of Nature, simply. “Kiss me again; I like it. May I kiss you?” The tame turtle-dove perched on her shoulder as she gave the Captain her first kiss, and diverted her thoughts to the pets that she had left, in pursuit of the truant dove. “Come,” she said, “and see my birds. I keep them on this side of the forest. There is no danger, so long as you don’t show yourself on the other side. My name is Aimata. Aimata will take care of you. Oh, what a beautiful white neck you have!” She put her arm admiringly round his neck. The Captain’s arm held her tenderly to him. Slowly the two descended120 the cliff, and were lost in the leafy solitudes121 of the forest. And the tame dove fluttered before them, a winged messenger of love, cooing to his mate.
VI.
THE night had come, and the Captain had not left the island.
Aimata’s resolution to send him away in the darkness was a forgotten resolution already. She had let him persuade her that he was in no danger, so long as he remained in the hut on the cliff; and she had promised, at parting, to return to him while the Priest was still sleeping, at the dawn of day.
He was alone in the hut. The thought of the innocent creature whom he loved was sorrowfully as well as tenderly present to his mind. He almost regretted his rash visit to the island. “I will take her with me to England,” he said to himself. “What does a sailor care for the opinion of the world? Aimata shall be my wife.”
The intense heat oppressed him. He stepped out on the cliff, toward midnight, in search of a breath of air.
At that moment, the first shock of earthquake (felt in the ship while she was inside the reef) shook the ground he stood on. He instantly thought of the volcano on the main island. Had he been mistaken in supposing the crater to be extinct? Was the shock that he had just felt a warning from the volcano, communicated through a submarine connection between the two islands? He waited and watched through the hours of darkness, with a vague sense of apprehension122, which was not to be reasoned away. With the first light of daybreak he descended into the forest, and saw the lovely being whose safety was already precious to him as his own, hurrying to meet him through the trees.
She waved her hand distractedly as she approached him. “Go!” she cried; “go away in your canoe before our island is destroyed!”
He did his best to quiet her alarm. Was it the shock of earthquake that had frightened her? No: it was more than the shock of earthquake—it was something terrible which had followed the shock. There was a lake near the Temple, the waters of which were supposed to be heated by subterranean123 fires. The lake had risen with the earthquake, had bubbled furiously, and had then melted away into the earth and been lost. Her father, viewing the portent124 with horror, had gone to the cape to watch the volcano on the main island, and to implore125 by prayers and sacrifices the protection of the gods. Hearing this, the Captain entreated126 Aimata to let him see the emptied lake, in the absence of the Priest. She hesitated; but his influence was all-powerful. He prevailed on her to turn back with him through the forest.
Reaching the furthest limit of the trees, they came out upon open rocky ground which sloped gently downward toward the center of the island. Having crossed this space, they arrived at a natural amphitheater of rock. On one side of it the Temple appeared, partly excavated127, partly formed by a natural cavern128. In one of the lateral129 branches of the cavern was the dwelling130 of the Priest and his daughter. The mouth of it looked out on the rocky basin of the lake. Stooping over the edge, the Captain discovered, far down in the empty depths, a light cloud of steam. Not a drop of water was visible, look where he might.
Aimata pointed to the abyss, and hid her face on his bosom. “My father says,” she whispered, “that it is your doing.”
The Captain started. “Does your father know that I am on the island?”
She looked up at him with a quick glance of reproach. “Do you think I would tell him, and put your life in peril?” she asked. “My father felt the destroyer of the island in the earthquake; my father saw the coming destruction in the disappearance of the lake.” Her eyes rested on him with a loving languor131. “Are you indeed the demon of the prophecy?” she said, winding132 his hair round her finger. “I am not afraid of you, if you are. I am a creature bewitched; I love the demon.” She kissed him passionately133. “I don’t care if I die,” she whispered between the kisses, “if I only die with you!”
The Captain made no attempt to reason with her. He took the wiser way—he appealed to her feelings.
“You will come and live with me happily in my own country,” he said. “My ship is waiting for us. I will take you home with me, and you shall be my wife.”
She clapped her hands for joy. Then she thought of her father, and drew back from him in tears.
The Captain understood her. “Let us leave this dreary135 place,” he suggested. “We will talk about it in the cool glades136 of the forest, where you first said you loved me.”
She gave him her hand. “Where I first said I loved you!” she repeated, smiling tenderly as she looked at him. They left the lake together.
VII.
THE darkness had fallen again; and the ship was still becalmed at sea.
Mr. Duncalf came on deck after his supper. The thin line of smoke, seen rising from the peak of the mountain that evening, was now succeeded by ominous flashes of fire from the same quarter, intermittently137 visible. The faint hot breeze from the land was felt once more. “There’s just an air of wind,” Mr. Duncalf remarked. “I’ll try for the Captain while I have the chance.”
One of the boats was lowered into the water—under command of the second mate, who had already taken the bearings of the tabooed island by daylight. Four of the men were to go with him, and they were all to be well armed. Mr. Duncalf addressed his final instructions to the officer in the boat.
“You will keep a lookout, sir, with a lantern in the bows. If the natives annoy you, you know what to do. Always shoot natives. When you get anigh the island, you will fire a gun and sing out for the Captain.”
“Quite needless,” interposed a voice from the sea. “The Captain is here!”
Without taking the slightest notice of the astonishment that he had caused, the commander of the Fortuna paddled his canoe to the side of the ship. Instead of ascending to the deck, he stepped into the boat, waiting alongside. “Lend me your pistols,” he said quietly to the second officer, “and oblige me by taking your men back to their duties on board.” He looked up at Mr. Duncalf and gave some further directions. “If there is any change in the weather, keep the ship standing off and on, at a safe distance from the land, and throw up a rocket from time to time to show your position. Expect me on board again by sunrise.”
“What!” cried the mate. “Do you mean to say you are going back to the island—in that boat—all by yourself?”
“I am going back to the island,” answered the Captain, as quietly as ever; “in this boat—all by myself.” He pushed off from the ship, and hoisted138 the sail as he spoke.
“You’re deserting your duty!” the old sea-dog shouted, with one of his loudest oaths.
“Attend to my directions,” the Captain shouted back, as he drifted away into the darkness.
Mr. Duncalf—violently agitated139 for the first time in his life—took leave of his superior officer, with a singular mixture of solemnity and politeness, in these words:
“The Lord have mercy on your soul! I wish you good-evening.”
VIII.
ALONE in the boat, the Captain looked with a misgiving140 mind at the flashing of the volcano on the main island.
If events had favored him, he would have removed Aimata to the shelter of the ship on the day when he saw the emptied basin on the lake. But the smoke of the Priest’s sacrifice had been discovered by the chief; and he had dispatched two canoes with instructions to make inquiries141. One of the canoes had returned; the other was kept in waiting off the cape, to place a means of communicating with the main island at the disposal of the Priest. The second shock of earthquake had naturally increased the alarm of the chief. He had sent messages to the Priest, entreating142 him to leave the island, and other messages to Aimata suggesting that she should exert her influence over her father, if he hesitated. The Priest refused to leave the Temple. He trusted in his gods and his sacrifices—he believed they might avert the fatality that threatened his sanctuary143.
Yielding to the holy man, the chief sent re-enforcements of canoes to take their turn at keeping watch off the headland. Assisted by torches, the islanders were on the alert (in superstitious144 terror of the demon of the prophecy) by night as well as by day. The Captain had no alternative but to keep in hiding, and to watch his opportunity of approaching the place in which he had concealed145 his canoe. It was only after Aimata had left him as usual, to return to her father at the close of evening, that the chances declared themselves in his favor. The fire-flashes from the mountain, visible when the night came, had struck terror into the hearts of the men on the watch. They thought of their wives, their children, and their possessions on the main island, and they one and all deserted their Priest. The Captain seized the opportunity of communicating with the ship, and of exchanging a frail146 canoe which he was ill able to manage, for a swift-sailing boat capable of keeping the sea in the event of stormy weather.
As he now neared the land, certain small sparks of red, moving on the distant water, informed him that the canoes of the sentinels had been ordered back to their duty.
Carefully avoiding the lights, he reached his own side of the island without accident, and, guided by the boat’s lantern, anchored under the cliff. He climbed the rocks, advanced to the door of the hut, and was met, to his delight and astonishment, by Aimata on the threshold.
“I dreamed that some dreadful misfortune had parted us forever,” she said; “and I came here to see if my dream was true. You have taught me what it is to be miserable147; I never felt my heart ache till I looked into the hut and found that you had gone. Now I have seen you, I am satisfied. No! you must not go back with me. My father may be out looking for me. It is you that are in danger, not I. I know the forest as well by dark as by daylight.”
The Captain detained her when she tried to leave him.
“Now you are here,” he said, “why should I not place you at once in safety? I have been to the ship; I have brought back one of the boats. The darkness will befriend us—let us embark148 while we can.”
She shrank away as he took her hand. “You forget my father!” she said.
“Your father is in no danger, my love. The canoes are waiting for him at the cape; I saw the lights as I passed.”
With that reply he drew her out of the hut and led her toward the sea. Not a breath of the breeze was now to be felt. The dead calm had returned—and the boat was too large to be easily managed by one man alone at the oars149.
“The breeze may come again,” he said. “Wait here, my angel, for the chance.”
As he spoke, the deep silence of the forest below them was broken by a sound. A harsh wailing150 voice was heard, calling:
“Aimata! Aimata!”
“My father!” she whispered; “he has missed me. If he comes here you are lost.”
She kissed him with passionate134 fervor151; she held him to her for a moment with all her strength.
“Expect me at daybreak,” she said, and disappeared down the landward slope of the cliff.
He listened, anxious for her safety. The voices of the father and daughter just reached him from among the trees. The Priest spoke in no angry tones; she had apparently152 found an acceptable excuse for her absence. Little by little, the failing sound of their voices told him that they were on their way back together to the Temple. The silence fell again. Not a ripple153 broke on the beach. Not a leaf rustled154 in the forest. Nothing moved but the reflected flashes of the volcano on the main island over the black sky. It was an airless and an awful calm.
He went into the hut, and laid down on his bed of leaves—not to sleep, but to rest. All his energies might be required to meet the coming events of the morning. After the voyage to and from the ship, and the long watching that had preceded it, strong as he was he stood in need of repose8.
For some little time he kept awake, thinking. Insensibly the oppression of the intense heat, aided in its influence by his own fatigue155, treacherously156 closed his eyes. In spite of himself, the weary man fell into a deep sleep.
He was awakened157 by a roar like the explosion of a park of artillery158. The volcano on the main island had burst into a state of eruption. Smoky flame-light overspread the sky, and flashed through the open doorway of the hut. He sprang from his bed—and found himself up to his knees in water.
Had the sea overflowed159 the land?
He waded160 out of the hut, and the water rose to his middle. He looked round him by the lurid161 light of the eruption. The one visible object within the range of view was the sea, stained by reflections from the blood-red sky, swirling162 and rippling163 strangely in the dead calm. In a moment more, he became conscious that the earth on which he stood was sinking under his feet. The water rose to his neck; the last vestige164 of the roof of the hut disappeared.
He looked round again, and the truth burst on him. The island was sinking—slowly, slowly sinking into volcanic depths, below even the depth of the sea! The highest object was the hut, and that had dropped inch by inch under water before his own eyes. Thrown up to the surface by occult volcanic influences, the island had sunk back, under the same influences, to the obscurity from which it had emerged!
A black shadowy object, turning in a wide circle, came slowly near him as the all-destroying ocean washed its bitter waters into his mouth. The buoyant boat, rising as the sea rose, had dragged its anchor, and was floating round in the vortex made by the slowly sinking island. With a last desperate hope that Aimata might have been saved as he had been saved, he swam to the boat, seized the heavy oars with the strength of a giant, and made for the place (so far as he could guess at it now) where the lake and the Temple had once been.
He looked round and round him; he strained his eyes in the vain attempt to penetrate165 below the surface of the seething166 dimpling sea. Had the panic-stricken watchers in the canoes saved themselves, without an effort to preserve the father and daughter? Or had they both been suffocated167 before they could make an attempt to escape? He called to her in his misery168, as if she could hear him out of the fathomless169 depths: “Aimata! Aimata!” The roar of the distant eruption answered him. The mounting fires lit the solitary sea far and near over the sinking island. The boat turned slowly and more slowly in the lessening170 vortex. Never again would those gentle eyes look at him with unutterable love! Never again would those fresh lips touch his lips with their fervent171 kiss! Alone, amid the savage172 forces of Nature in conflict, the miserable mortal lifted his hands in frantic173 supplication—and the burning sky glared down on him in its pitiless grandeur174, and struck him to his knees in the boat. His reason sank with his sinking limbs. In the merciful frenzy175 that succeeded the shock, he saw afar off, in her white robe, an angel poised176 on the waters, beckoning177 him to follow her to the brighter and the better world. He loosened the sail, he seized the oars; and the faster he pursued it, the faster the mocking vision fled from him over the empty and endless sea.
IX.
THE boat was discovered, on the next morning, from the ship.
All that the devotion of the officers of the Fortuna could do for their unhappy commander was done on the homeward voyage. Restored to his own country, and to skilled medical help, the Captain’s mind by slow degrees recovered its balance. He has taken his place in society again—he lives and moves and manages his affairs like the rest of us. But his heart is dead to all new emotions; nothing remains178 in it but the sacred remembrance of his lost love. He neither courts nor avoids the society of women. Their sympathy finds him grateful, but their attractions seem to be lost on him; they pass from his mind as they pass from his eyes—they stir nothing in him but the memory of Aimata.
“Now you know, ladies, why the Captain will never marry, and why (sailor as he is) he hates the sight of the sea.”
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1
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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2
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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3
aggravate
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| vt.加重(剧)，使恶化；激怒，使恼火 | |
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4
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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5
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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7
reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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11
linguist
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| n.语言学家；精通数种外国语言者 | |
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12
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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13
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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14
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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15
akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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16
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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17
abhorrent
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| adj.可恶的，可恨的，讨厌的 | |
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18
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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19
speckless
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| adj.无斑点的，无瑕疵的 | |
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20
anomalous
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| adj.反常的；不规则的 | |
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21
infraction
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| n.违反；违法 | |
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22
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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23
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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24
scurvy
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| adj.下流的，卑鄙的，无礼的；n.坏血病 | |
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25
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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26
latitudes
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| 纬度 | |
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27
wheezing
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 )；哮鸣 | |
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28
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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29
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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30
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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32
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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33
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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34
volcanic
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| adj.火山的；象火山的；由火山引起的 | |
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35
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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36
groggy
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| adj.体弱的；不稳的 | |
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37
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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38
strew
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| vt.撒；使散落；撒在…上，散布于 | |
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39
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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40
imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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41
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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42
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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43
mariners
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| 海员，水手（mariner的复数形式） | |
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44
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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45
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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46
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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47
lava
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| n.熔岩，火山岩 | |
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48
consolidated
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| a.联合的 | |
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49
lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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50
crater
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| n.火山口，弹坑 | |
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51
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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52
eruptions
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| n.喷发，爆发( eruption的名词复数 ) | |
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53
eruption
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| n.火山爆发；（战争等）爆发；（疾病等）发作 | |
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54
adverting
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| 引起注意（advert的现在分词形式） | |
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55
restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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56
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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57
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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58
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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59
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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60
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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61
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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63
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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64
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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65
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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66
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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67
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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68
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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69
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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70
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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71
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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73
taboo
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| n.禁忌，禁止接近，禁止使用；adj.禁忌的；v.禁忌，禁制，禁止 | |
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74
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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75
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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76
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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77
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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78
prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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79
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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80
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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81
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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82
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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83
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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84
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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85
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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86
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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87
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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88
offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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89
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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90
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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91
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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92
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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93
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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94
knotty
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| adj.有结的，多节的，多瘤的，棘手的 | |
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95
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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96
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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97
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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98
secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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99
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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100
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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101
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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102
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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103
utensils
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| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
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104
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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105
truant
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| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
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106
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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107
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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108
deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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109
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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110
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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111
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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112
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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113
fatality
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| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
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114
rigor
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| n.严酷，严格，严厉 | |
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115
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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116
candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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117
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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118
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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119
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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120
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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121
solitudes
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| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
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122
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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123
subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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124
portent
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| n.预兆；恶兆；怪事 | |
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125
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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126
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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127
excavated
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| v.挖掘( excavate的过去式和过去分词 )；开凿；挖出；发掘 | |
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128
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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129
lateral
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| adj.侧面的，旁边的 | |
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130
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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131
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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132
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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133
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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134
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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135
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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136
glades
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| n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
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137
intermittently
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| adv.间歇地；断断续续 | |
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138
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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139
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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140
misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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141
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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142
entreating
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的现在分词 ) | |
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143
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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144
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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145
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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146
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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147
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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148
embark
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| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
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149
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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150
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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151
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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152
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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153
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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154
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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155
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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156
treacherously
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| 背信弃义地； 背叛地； 靠不住地； 危险地 | |
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157
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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158
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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159
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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160
waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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161
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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162
swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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163
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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164
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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165
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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166
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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167
suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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168
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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169
fathomless
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| a.深不可测的 | |
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170
lessening
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| 减轻，减少，变小 | |
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171
fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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172
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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173
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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174
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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175
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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176
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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177
beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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178
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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