The music grew slowly manifest: Mijok, in an Earth song more than two
hundred years old. Long-flowing chanteys and slower spirituals suited
him. He had teased Ann to teach him all she knew, even after she lost
interest. Swift melodies and rapid syllables were beyond him--the
depth of his tone rendered them grotesque. More than a mile away, he
was wallowing in "Shenandoah"--Mijok, to whom the ocean was only a
word and a river steamboat the cloudiest of legends. Other voices,
true on pitch, followed his solo:
"_Away--we're bound away...._"