FROM GARDEN TO GARDEN LIKE SEEDS ON THE WIND
Here there was peace. The great dark swell coming up and passing in the
moonlight, the following wind, the stars—nothing remained but these,
these and the whisper of the reef far astern, and the far glow of the
burning ship.
Katafa steered, the great bunch of bananas up against her legs, Nan on
his stick beside her, the head of Nan hanging over the transom like the
head of a person contemplating seasickness.
They had never thought of dishonouring him by taking him off his stick.
He was something real to them, and, without thinking back and putting
things together, they felt that he was an influence in their lives.
He was. Only for him Sru would not have landed to be killed, the army
and navy of Karolin would never have sailed to break the charm of
_taminan_. Only for him the idea of making a mast for the dinghy would
never have occurred to Dick, for it was the cut sapling that gave him
the idea. Only for the mast the idea of journeying to Karolin would
never have arisen.
Nan had literally put the club of Ma into the hands of Dick; the blazing
schooner, the dread white men, the revolt of the Melanesians, all these
were part of the work of Nan, who seemed only a cocoanut, but was yet an
idea. The fish, the bread-fruit, the water beaker, and all the odds and
ends they had brought away were stowed some in the stern sheets and some
amidships, whilst in the bow reposed the little ships, like the toys of
these children who had never learned to play with toys, but with men and
events and with Destiny itself.
The wind blew steady and strong from the north.
Palm Tree had never depended on the trades. Owing to the influence of
the Low Archipelago, the Trade Law did not hold either here or at
Karolin; neither could the strength of the northern-runnning current be
depended on—south winds increased its rate of flow. North winds
decreased it. To-night the dinghy had to face only a knot-and-a-half
current.
Towards ten o’clock in the morning the far glow of the burning schooner
suddenly vanished from the northern sky. The sound of the reef had been
left long ago astern. Nothing remained but the sea, the wind and the
stars.
Dick, who had not spoken for some time, had slipped down into the bottom
of the boat and was leaning his arm on the thwart and his head on his
arm. He was asleep. Katafa did not awaken him. She was almost glad to be
alone in these first solemn hours of return to all that her heart
desired. The frigate bird had found its home again among the infinite
sea distances, and the wide-spaced columns of the swell, as they passed,
saluted her.
Now to port the tremendous vagueness and secrecy of the night began to
give before something that seemed less like light than life; the sky
showed scarcely a change, yet the sea had altered and now, low in the
east, dim, red and luminous, like the banked smoke of burning cities, a
line of mist lay suddenly revealed above the line of sea.
A gull passed the boat, soaring on the wind, and the wind whipped the
sea with renewed life and freshness, and the sea cast its spray at
Katafa as she steered, her eyes wandering from the sail to the old and
accustomed glory, the wild, triumphant splendour of the east aflame.
Two great zones of light, like the knees of the angel of the dawn,
showed, and, far above, wings in tumultuous colour and wide-spread arms
of light struggling as if to smash down the crystal doors—and then,
tumult dying and colour fading, at a stroke the western sky showed not a
single star and in the eastern sky stood day.
Dick awoke from sleep with the sun half lifted above the horizon.
Creeping aft, he took his place beside Katafa, but though she gave the
tiller to him and, slipping down, rested her head against her knee, she
could not sleep.
The island they had left vanished utterly from sight; they were alone
with the sea, and now for the first time came doubt.
She knew the sea and its absolute infidelity, its traps and surprises,
should they not find Karolin; should some storm rise suddenly and blow
them into the unknown east, or the west where the dead men warm
themselves round the dying sun!
She glanced up at Dick—Dick, beautiful as the god of youth and as
serene—Dick, who had only known the waters of the lagoon and the sea
beyond the reef and who was gazing now at the sea itself, untroubled by
its vastness and unafraid.
Whilst her eyes held him she knew no fear, but when her eyes left him
doubt returned. She had been so long separated from the sea that the
guiding sense and instinct that served the fishermen for compass had all
but deserted her. She felt lost.
She had forgotten the guiding sign placed long ago above the great
lagoon by God, whose garden is Nature and whose rivers are the currents
of the sea. Dick, perhaps divining her trouble by that subtle sense
which enabled them to communicate without words, leaned sideways towards
her as he steered and, letting the boat a few points off her course,
pointed to where, far ahead, the light of the great lagoon formed its
wan, miraculous window in the sky.