Chita-A Memory of Last Island [34]
feels the poetry of the Most Ancient and Most Excellent of Poets, and then is smitten at once with the contrast-thought of the sickliness and selfishness of Man,--of the blindness and brutality of cities, whereinto the divine blue light never purely comes, and the sanctification of the Silences never descends ... furious cities, walled away from heaven ... Oh! if one could only sail on thus always, always through such a night--through such a star-sprinkled violet light, and hear Sparicio and Carmelo sing, even though it were the same melody always, always the same song!
... "Scuza, Doct-a!--look-a out!" Julien bent down, as the big boom, loosened, swung over his head. The San Marco was rounding into shore,--heading for her home. Sparicio lifted a huge conch-shell from the deck, put it to his lips, filled his deep lungs, and flung out into the night--thrice--a profound, mellifluent, booming horn-tone. A minute passed. Then, ghostly faint, as an echo from very far away, a triple blowing responded ...
And a long purple mass loomed and swelled into sight, heightened, approached--land and trees black-shadowing, and lights that swung ... The San Marco glided into a bayou,--under a high wharfing of timbers, where a bearded fisherman waited, and a woman. Sparicio flung up a rope.
The bearded man caught it by the lantern-light, and tethered the San Marco to her p]ace. Then he asked, in a deep voice:
-"Has traido al Doctor?"
-"Si, si!" answered Sparicio... "Y el viejo?"
-"Aye! pobre!" responded Feliu,--"hace tres dias que esta muerto. "
Henry Edwards was dead!
He had died very suddenly, without a cry or a word, while resting in his rocking-chair,--the very day after Sparicio had sailed. They had made him a grave in the marsh,--among the high weeds, not far from the ruined tomb of the Spanish fisherman. But Sparicio had fairly earned his hundred dollars.
V.
So there was nothing to do at Viosca's Point except to rest. Feliu and all his men were going to Barataria in the morning on business;--the Doctor could accompany them there, and take the Grand Island steamer Monday for New Orleans. With this intention Julien retired,--not sorry for being able to stretch himself at full length on the good bed prepared for him, in one of the unoccupied cabins. But he woke before day with a feeling of intense prostration, a violent headache, and such an aversion for the mere idea of food that Feliu's invitation to breakfast at five o'clock gave him an internal qualm. Perhaps a touch of malaria. In any case he felt it would be both dangerous and useless to return to town unwell; and Feliu, observing his condition, himself advised against the journey. Wednesday he would have another opportunity to leave; and in the meanwhile Carmen would take good care of him ... The boats departed, and Julien slept again.
The sun was high when he rose up and dressed himself, feeling no better. He would have liked to walk about the place, but felt nervously afraid of the sun. He did not remember having ever felt so broken down before. He pulled a rocking-chair to the window, tried to smoke a cigar. It commenced to make him feel still sicker, and he flung it away. It seemed to him the cabin was swaying, as the San Marco swayed when she first reached the deep water.
A light rustling sound approached,--a sound of quick feet treading the grass: then a shadow slanted over the threshold. In the glow of the open doorway stood a young girl,--gracile, tall,--with singularly splendid eyes,--brown eyes peeping at him from beneath a golden riot of loose hair.
--"M'sieu-le-Docteur, maman d'mande si vous n'avez besoin d'que'que chose?" ... She spoke the rude French of the fishing villages, where the language lives chiefly as a baragouin, mingled often with words and forms belonging to many other tongues. She wore a loose-falling dress of some light stuff, steel-gray in color;--boys' shoes were on her feet.
He did not reply;--and her large eyes grew larger for wonder at the strange fixed gaze of the physician, whose
... "Scuza, Doct-a!--look-a out!" Julien bent down, as the big boom, loosened, swung over his head. The San Marco was rounding into shore,--heading for her home. Sparicio lifted a huge conch-shell from the deck, put it to his lips, filled his deep lungs, and flung out into the night--thrice--a profound, mellifluent, booming horn-tone. A minute passed. Then, ghostly faint, as an echo from very far away, a triple blowing responded ...
And a long purple mass loomed and swelled into sight, heightened, approached--land and trees black-shadowing, and lights that swung ... The San Marco glided into a bayou,--under a high wharfing of timbers, where a bearded fisherman waited, and a woman. Sparicio flung up a rope.
The bearded man caught it by the lantern-light, and tethered the San Marco to her p]ace. Then he asked, in a deep voice:
-"Has traido al Doctor?"
-"Si, si!" answered Sparicio... "Y el viejo?"
-"Aye! pobre!" responded Feliu,--"hace tres dias que esta muerto. "
Henry Edwards was dead!
He had died very suddenly, without a cry or a word, while resting in his rocking-chair,--the very day after Sparicio had sailed. They had made him a grave in the marsh,--among the high weeds, not far from the ruined tomb of the Spanish fisherman. But Sparicio had fairly earned his hundred dollars.
V.
So there was nothing to do at Viosca's Point except to rest. Feliu and all his men were going to Barataria in the morning on business;--the Doctor could accompany them there, and take the Grand Island steamer Monday for New Orleans. With this intention Julien retired,--not sorry for being able to stretch himself at full length on the good bed prepared for him, in one of the unoccupied cabins. But he woke before day with a feeling of intense prostration, a violent headache, and such an aversion for the mere idea of food that Feliu's invitation to breakfast at five o'clock gave him an internal qualm. Perhaps a touch of malaria. In any case he felt it would be both dangerous and useless to return to town unwell; and Feliu, observing his condition, himself advised against the journey. Wednesday he would have another opportunity to leave; and in the meanwhile Carmen would take good care of him ... The boats departed, and Julien slept again.
The sun was high when he rose up and dressed himself, feeling no better. He would have liked to walk about the place, but felt nervously afraid of the sun. He did not remember having ever felt so broken down before. He pulled a rocking-chair to the window, tried to smoke a cigar. It commenced to make him feel still sicker, and he flung it away. It seemed to him the cabin was swaying, as the San Marco swayed when she first reached the deep water.
A light rustling sound approached,--a sound of quick feet treading the grass: then a shadow slanted over the threshold. In the glow of the open doorway stood a young girl,--gracile, tall,--with singularly splendid eyes,--brown eyes peeping at him from beneath a golden riot of loose hair.
--"M'sieu-le-Docteur, maman d'mande si vous n'avez besoin d'que'que chose?" ... She spoke the rude French of the fishing villages, where the language lives chiefly as a baragouin, mingled often with words and forms belonging to many other tongues. She wore a loose-falling dress of some light stuff, steel-gray in color;--boys' shoes were on her feet.
He did not reply;--and her large eyes grew larger for wonder at the strange fixed gaze of the physician, whose