CHAPTER XLVI. THE CHAMOIS WITH A ROVING COMMISSION.
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Through the assiduity of my Viking, ere nightfall our
Chamois was again in good order. And with many subtle
and seamanlike splices the light tent was lashed in its
place; the sail taken up by a reef.
My comrades now questioned me, as to my purposes;
whether they had been modified by the events of the day.
I replied that our destination was still the islands to the
westward.
But from these we had steadily been drifting all the
morning long; so that now no loom of the land was visible.
But our prow was kept pointing as before.
As evening came on, my comrades fell fast asleep, leaving
me at the helm.
How soft and how dreamy the light of the hour. The
rays of the sun, setting behind golden-barred clouds, came
to me like the gleaming of a shaded light behind a lattice.
And the low breeze, pervaded with the peculiar balm of the
mid-Pacific near land, was fragrant as the breath of a bride.
Such was the scene; so still and witching that the hand
of Yillah in mine seemed no hand, but a touch. Visions
flitted before me and in me; something hummed in my
ear; all the air was a lay.
And now entered a thought into my heart. I reflected
how serenely we might thus glide along, far removed from
all care and anxiety. And then, what different scenes
might await us upon any of the shores roundabout. But
there seemed no danger in the balmy sea; the assured
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vicinity of land imparting a sense of security. We had
ample supplies for several days more, and thanks to the
Pagan canoe, an abundance of fruit.
Besides, what cared I now for the green groves and
bright shore? Was not Yillah my shore and my grove?
my meadow, my mead, my soft shady vine, and my arbor?
Of all things desirable and delightful, the full-plumed sheaf,
and my own right arm the band? Enough: no shore for
me yet. One sweep of the helm, and our light prow
headed round toward the vague land of song, sun, and vine:
the fabled South.
As we glided along, strange Yillah gazed down in the
sea, and would fain have had me plunge into it with her, to
rove through its depths. But I started dismayed; in fancy,
I saw the stark body of the priest drifting by. Again that
phantom obtruded; again guilt laid his red hand on my
soul. But I laughed. Was not Yillah my own? by my
arm rescued from ill? To do her a good, I had periled
myself. So down, down, Aleema.
When next morning, starting from slumber, my comrades
beheld the sun on our beam, instead of astern as before at
that hour, they eagerly inquired, “Whither now?” But
very briefly I gave them to know, that after devoting the
night to the due consideration of a matter so important, I
had determined upon voyaging for the island Tedaidee, in
place of the land to the westward.
At this, they were not displeased. But to tell the plain
truth, I harbored some shadowy purpose of merely hovering
about for a while, till I felt more landwardly inclined.
But had I not declared to Yillah, that our destination
was the fairy isle she spoke of, even Oroolia? Yet that
shore was so exceedingly remote, and the folly of endeavoring
to reach it in a craft built with hands, so very apparent,
that what wonder I really nourished no thought of it?
So away floated the Chamois, like a vagrant cloud in
the heavens: bound, no one knew whither.
-- -- p275-182
Melville, Herman, 1819-1891 [1849], Mardi and a voyage thither, volume 1 (Harper & Brothers, New York) [word count] [eaf275v1].