Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (239 page)

Everything
was
silent;
trees
and
cliff
and
sky,
the
limpid
reflection of
these
in
the
glassy
waters
of
the
lagoon;
even
the
monkeys
and
the chattering
parakeets,
all
were
frozen
into
a
breathless
silence
that seemed
to
watch,
aghast,
the
reckless
departure
of
this
creature
determined
at
all
costs
to
break
away
from
their
sorrowful
eternity.

Soon
it
was
daylight,
and
the
sun
beat
gilded
wings,
and
Patterson drew
near
to
the
sea.
A
curve
in
the
lagoon
showed
him
the
tawny cliff,
and
above
it
the
huts.
From
the
Captain's
hut
came
a
finger
of blue
smoke
that
climbed,
very
straight,
into
the
bright
clearness
of the
air.

"Good-by,
Ines."

And
he
was
surprised
to
find
how
little
pain
there
was
for
him
in this
parting.
He
reminded
himself
once
more
that
she
was
a
ghost, a
creature
of
dust.

He
passed
the
rocks
and
was
soon
outside,
away
from
the
island, on
the
sea
itself.
The
ripples
danced,
white-crested,
as
though
laced with
silver.
Patterson
fished
with
success.
He
tried
to
fry
his
breakfast and,
failing,
devoured
it
half-raw,
with
a
hunch
of
bread.
It
was
very appetizing.
After
breakfast
he
lay
watching,
with
ecstasy,
a
stiff
breeze swell
his
sail.

Already
the
island
seemed
to
have
receded.
Patterson
gazed
with exultation
at
the
coral-whiteness
of
its
strand,
the
radiant
green
foliage of
its
trees.
An
hour
before,
and
these
had
been
loathsome
to
him; now
that
they
belonged
to
the
past
he
grimaced
at
them
and
waved his
hand.

The
raft
drifted
on.

The
sea
was
kind
to
him
that
day,
he
thought,
so
innocent
and
gay and
tinted
like
forget-me-nots.
Despite
himself,
despite
his
almost certain
death,
he
found
his
mind
flitting
towards
England,
and
his life
there,
as
though
he
were
fated
to
be
saved.

He
turned
towards
the
island,
gleaming
in
the
distance.

"Farewell!"

It
was
a
cry
of
defiance.

And,
then,
in
a
moment,
like
thunder
splintering
from
the
sky, came
sudden
and
shattering
catastrophe.
He
was
never
very
clear as
to
what
actually
occurred.
All
he
knew
was
that
from
peace
and beauty
there
emerged
swift
chaos.
A
wall
of
water,
all
towering
solid green
and
ribbed
with
foam,
reared
suddenly
from
the
tranquil
seas to
bar
his
path
like
some
great
ogre's
castle
arisen
by
magic,
huge, destructive,
carven
of
emerald.
Then
there
was
darkness
and
a
tremendous
roaring
sound,
and
the
raft
seemed
to
buck
like
a
frightened horse.
He
heard
the
ripping
of
his
sail
and
then
he
was
pitched through
the
air
and
something
seemed
to
split
his
head
and
he
knew no
more.

When
he
awoke,
the
sun
beat
hot
upon
his
temples.
He
felt
sick, his
limbs
ached,
and
he
groaned.
He
lay
still,
his
eyes
closed,
and
tried to
remember
what
had
happened.
And
then
he
heard
a
sound
that might
have
been
some
dirge
sighed
by
the
breeze,
a
soft
murmuring music
that
seemed
to
him
familiar.
The
song
of
the
island.
He
knew, then,
that
he
was
back
upon
the
island.
He
had
no
need
to
open
his eyes.