The airs were very light, their speed was small; the heat intense. The

decks were scorching underfoot, the sun flamed overhead, brazen, out

of a brazen sky; the pitch bubbled in the seams, and the brains in the

brain-pan. And all the while the excitement of the three adventurers

glowed about their bones like a fever. They whispered, and nodded, and

pointed, and put mouth to ear, with a singular instinct of secrecy,

approaching that island underhand like eavesdroppers and thieves; and

even Davis from the cross-trees gave his orders mostly by gestures. The

hands shared in this mute strain, like dogs, without comprehending it;

and through the roar of so many miles of breakers, it was a silent ship

that approached an empty island.

At last they drew near to the break in that interminable gangway. A spur

of coral sand stood forth on the one hand; on the other a high and thick

tuft of trees cut off the view; between was the mouth of the huge laver.

Twice a day the ocean crowded in that narrow entrance and was heaped

between these frail walls; twice a day, with the return of the ebb, the

mighty surplusage of water must struggle to escape. The hour in which

the Farallone came there was the hour of flood. The sea turned (as

with the instinct of the homing pigeon) for the vast receptacle, swept

eddying through the gates, was transmuted, as it did so, into a wonder

of watery and silken hues, and brimmed into the inland sea beyond. The

schooner looked up close-hauled, and was caught and carried away by the

influx like a toy. She skimmed; she flew; a momentary shadow touched her

decks from the shore-side trees; the bottom of the channel showed up for

a moment and was in a moment gone; the next, she floated on the bosom of

the lagoon, and below, in the transparent chamber of waters, a myriad

102

The Ebb-Tide