Some were hunting about for arrows which might have
stuck inboard, and some tying up small injuries received in the
scuffle. But an anxious shadow still lingered upon the face of
Sir Robert, and he peered fixedly about him through the fog.
"Go among the archers, Hawthorne," said he to his Squire. "Charge
them on their lives to make no sound! You also, Loring. Go to
the afterguard and say the same to them. We are lost if one of
these great ships should spy us."
For an hour with bated breath they stole through the fleet, still
hearing the cymbals clashing all round them, for in this way the
Spaniards held themselves together. Once the wild music came from
above their very prow, and so warned them to change their course.
Once also a huge vessel loomed for an instant upon their quarter,
but they turned two points away from her, and she blurred and
vanished. Soon the cymbals were but a distant tinkling, and at
last they died gradually away.
"It is none too soon," said the old shipman, pointing to a
yellowish tint in the haze above them. "See yonder! It is the
sun which wins through. It will be here anon. Ah! said I not
so?"
A sickly sun, no larger and far dimmer than the moon, had indeed
shown its face, with cloud-wreaths smoking across it. As they
looked up it waxed larger and brighter before their eyes--a
yellow halo spread round it, one ray broke through, and then a
funnel of golden light poured down upon them, widening swiftly at
the base.
Pages:
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313