The Ship of Coral

beyond the tent opening lay white and blazin

s. The morning, warm, sweet, and sunlit, lay around him; the sapphire sky and flashing sea; snow-white gulls and snow-white sands. A hot, gentle wind was stirring the palm fronds. He collected some dry brushwood for the fire, lit it, and piled on some wood from the wreck. When it was alight, flickering a hundred red tongues at

. Yves had salved most of the31 stores, Yves had hunted for dead brushwood, Yves had found crabs, Yves had found the spring of water, Yves had found the boat sail, Yves had built t

urce and the joy of life; the southern laziness had held possession of him. All the same, Yves had prov

bers; then he breakfasted on some ship's biscuit and some

came in over the morning sea, the lazy, deep bl

ald just above the sea-line, swept up into the burning blue, and from sea and sky, like the breath from a great blue mouth,

s. Though he had heard them since awakening, he had not noticed them till now; h

fact of his utter isolation had not stood before him32 ful

ng to do with you-we are nothing to you-alone there on the sands-all day long and night and day, an

for his stupidity and, though his pipe was not half exhausted, he tapped the tobacco out, re-filled and lit it. It was something to do. Then, to drive the thought of Yves away, he fell to imagining what sort of a ship would take him off the island, and then he stretched his hand into the tent and pulled out the

to do. Then he began to spend them in fancy, the remembrance of the tragedy of yest

awful day had scarcely progressed; the33 mantle of Loneliness had fallen on him again; the gulls were still crying, calling, w

ng belt and pouch into the tent; then he r

though a heavy sack had been dra

. The heat lay heavy over the bay cedars, the air was shaking blanket-fashion under the fiery rays of the sun, the bushes were dense, yet in a trice it seemed to him he had reached the northern beach. The islet seemed

and around him on every

etop of the ship was standing stark and dry from the water; the ship herself was clearly to be see

water, but the lagoon this morning was gay with fish, parrot-fish, grope

reef; shutting one's eyes one might have fancied a giant

had not forgotten him. As he stood with his eyes fixed on a large fish, sapphire and mist-grey, that had developed like a spirit and was now hanging motionless with moving gills above th

u there alone!-alone!-alone!-see how the wind take

ng and beckoning to him; their voices, thinned by distance, had a desolation rendered even more desola

rmth and blue skies. Here life ought to have been superabundant, but here t

fist in his pocket and, turning from the lago

eefs were like rows of teeth and the rock edges like razors. Here35 it was that most of the wreckage of t

in, things were breaking loose from her and rising as bubbles rise from a submerged body, and drifting ashore with the tide. Hencoops, boxes, spars, barrels, were pounding about in the surf. Heavy spars were here, all chawn and frayed

like a music interpenetrating all things from the sound of

s voice, which was a part of the sunlight, a part of the silence

t the same job, and now, for the first time since the tragedy, as he stood looking at the heap of spars an

, an outpouring of his southern nature; anger suddenly checked and flung36 back by Death,

came from the depths of his soul,

just now, for the heart, softening towards the

how awful it would be if on his return he were to find Yves sitting by the tent! His imaginative mind played with this idea for a moment and then cast it hurriedly away. He laughed out l

gnificance for Gaspard. The silence, the sunlight, and the blueness had first conspired to shew him his loneliness; the gulls had insisted on it, gloated over it, explained it; but now, since over there by the wreckwood the pity for Yves and his fate had entered into his heart, the gulls, the silence, the sunlight, and the

liness, Distance, Bluen

devil and danced away on the wind. An unseen hand seemed moving everywhere fitfully, now here, now there, touching the sand, touching the trees, touching the bay-cedar bushes. Gaspard, as he lay with hi

ifting the tent-cloth back and a voice saying, "Hullo! what are you doing here?" He im

nds of corruption, yet he felt no fear of it; on the contrary, it was the thing he dwelt on when he wished to allay fear. For fear, faint and indefinable, was taking hold upon him now. He had no compunc

fantastic edifices. He lit a pipe and, smoking it, he fell asleep, awakening in an hour or so refreshed and fearless. Sleep seemed to have wiped away Loneliness, superstition, and all

ncied the islet wrapped in idyllic peace; but it was the peace that broods over fermentation. The air over the sands was shaking in waves and a faint hum of inse

. There were no fish visible in the water to-day, nothing floated there but an occasional scrap of seaweed. The clear water, bright as a diamond and green as an emerald, held the gaze with

ound; the islet was singing to the little waves, but the reef only gurgled, slobbered slightly when a higher ridge of swell lapp

hing. The reef, the islet, sea and sky were destitute of life, yet distinctly he had felt as though someone were standing behind him, almost in touch with him, almost breathing upon his neck; and he felt that if he had turned more

he sensation off with a little shiver and, casting his eyes over the sea-line aga

n upon the sand he saw something that brought his

ft on the previous day, and it was still sharp and clear, for a ledge of the reef had protected it

heart, his eyes cast from side to side, not daring to look back. He di

had stepped out of the semi-inanimate world where trees dwell and flowers, and had become a living personality. In his supreme terror he could have turned

Reason came to his assistance. He remembered that Yves had been by the reef end

ing himself

Hi!

d him. It was the voice of Yves, and springing to his feet

t eyes and coral-red beak was passing ov

e, yet more soundless in flight than an arrow, i

from far out at sea, motionless, but fast dwindling till it

in nothingness, lifting veil after veil of sky,41 and horizon after

tupidity of his alarm. The island seemed suddenly freed from the haunting presence; he beg

opping to the sea, bringing to its end that vast blue day so fill