Part 69 (1/2)

”So we did. It will do for breakfast.”

The damper was raked out of the ashes, and having been left to itself was found to be well done, but rather burned on one side. When the burnt part had been sc.r.a.ped off, and the ashes blown from it, it tasted very fair, but extremely dry.

”The b.u.t.ter won't last long,” said Mark presently, as they sat down to breakfast on the ground at their two boards. ”We ought to have another s.h.i.+pload.”

”Tables without legs are awkward,” said Bevis, whose face was heated from tending the fire they had lit and boiling the kettle. ”The difficulty is, where to put your knees.”

”Or else you must lie down. We could easily make some legs.”

”Drive short stakes into the ground, and put the boards on the top,”

said Bevis. ”So we will presently. The table ought to be a little one side of the doorway, as we can't wheel it along out of the way.”

”Big stumps of logs would do for stools,” said Mark. ”Saw them off short, and stand them on end.”

”The sun's very warm,” said Bevis.

The morning suns.h.i.+ne looked down into their courtyard, so that they had not the least shade.

”The awning ought to be put up here over our table.”

”Let's put it up, then. I say, how rough your hair looks.”

”Well, you look as if you had not washed. Shall we go and have a swim?”

”Yes. Put the things away; here's the towels.”

They replaced their breakfast things anywhere, leaving the teapot on the bed, and went down to the water, choosing the sh.o.r.e opposite Serendib, because on that side there were no weeds.

As they came down to the strand, already tearing off their coats, they stopped to look at the New Sea, which was still, smooth, and sunlit.

Though it was so broad it did not seem far to-day to the yellow cliff of the quarry, to the sward of the battlefield, and the ma.s.sive heads of the sycamores under which the war had raged.

There was not a breath of wind, but the pa.s.sage of so much air coming from the eastwards during the last week or so had left the atmosphere as clear as it is in periods of rain. The immense sycamores stood out against the sky, with the broad green curve of their tops drawn along the blue. Except a s.h.i.+mmer of uncertain yellow at the distant sh.o.r.e they could not see the reflection of the quarry which was really there, for the line of vision from where they stood came nearly level with the surface of the water, so that they did not look into it but along it.

Beneath their feet they saw to the bottom of the New Sea, and slender shapes of fish hovering over interstices of stones, now here, now gone.

There was nothing between them and the fish, any more than while looking at a tree. The mere surface was a film transparent, and beneath there seemed nothing. Across on Serendib the boughs dipped to the boughs that came up under to meet them. A moorhen swam, and her imago followed beneath, unbroken, so gently did she part the water that no ripple confused it. Farther the woods of the jungle far away rose up, a mountain wall of still boughs, mingled by distance into one vast thicket.

Southwards, looking seawards, instead of the long path of gold which wavelets strew before him, the sun beamed in the water, throwing a stream of light on their faces, not to be looked at any more than the fire which Archimedes cast from his mirrors melting the s.h.i.+ps. All the light of summer fell on the water, from the glowing sky, from the clear air, from the sun. The island floated in light, they stood in light, light was in the shadow of the trees, and under the thick brambles; light was deep down in the water, light surrounded them as a mist might; they could see far up into the illumined sky as down into the water.

The leaves with light under them as well as above became films of transparent green, the delicate branches were delineated with finest camel's hair point, all the gra.s.s blades heaped together were apart, and their edges apparent in the thick confusion; every atom of sand upon the sh.o.r.e was sought out by the beams, and given an individual existence amid the inconceivable mult.i.tude which the sibyl alone counted. Nothing was lost, not a grain of sand, not the least needle of fir. The light touched all things, and gave them to be.

The tip of the s.h.i.+mmering poplar had no more of it than the moss in the covert of the bulging roots. The swallows flew in light, the fish swam in light, the trees stood in light. Upon the sh.o.r.e they breathed light, and were silent till a white b.u.t.terfly came fluttering over, and another white b.u.t.terfly came under it in the water, when looking at it the particular released them from the power of the general.

”Magic,” said Bevis. ”It's magic.”

”Enchantment,” said Mark; ”who is it does it--the old magician?”

”I think the book says its Circe,” said Bevis; ”in the Ulysses book, I mean. It's deep enough to dive here.”

In a minute he was ready, and darted into the water like an arrow, and was sent up again as an arrow glances to the surface. Throwing himself on his side he shot along. ”Serendib!” he shouted, as Mark appeared after his dive under.