BIRDALONE LACKETH LITTLE OF DROWNING, BUT COMETH LATTERLY TO THE GREEN
EYOT.
On swam Birdalone, not as one who had a mind to drown her for the
forgetting of troubles, but both strongly and wisely; and she turned
over on to her back, and looked on the stars above her, and steered
herself by them thitherward whereas she deemed was the land under the
wood. When she had been gone from the evil isle for an hour or so,
there rose a fair little wind behind her, which helped her forward, but
scarce raised the water more than a little ripple.
Still she swam on, and it was some three hours she began to weary, and
then she floated on her back and let the wind and water have its way
with her; and now the night was as dark as it would be ere dawn.
Thus it went for another hour, that whiles she swam on and whiles she
floated; and now her heart began to fail her, and the great water was
no longer unto her a wet highway, but a terrible gulf over which she
hung fainting.
Nevertheless she did not give up doing what she might: she floated
supine a long while, and then, when she had gathered a little strength,
turned over again and struck out, still steering her by the stars. But
she had scarce made three strokes ere her arms met something hard and
rough; and at first in her forlornness she deemed she had happened on
some dread water monster, and for terror of it she sank down into the
deep, but came up presently blinded and breathless, and spread abroad
her arms, and again they came on the thing aforesaid, and this time
found that it was nought alive, but the bole of a tree sitting high out
of the water. So she clomb up on to it with what might she had left,
and sat her down, and saw in the dim light that it was big, and that
there was a fork betwixt two limbs reaching up into the air, and she
thrust herself in between these two limbs and embraced one of them, so
that she might scarce tumble off; and a great content and happiness
came over her that she had thus escaped from the death of the deep; but
therewithal weariness overcame her, and she slept, whether she would or
not; and the bole went on over the waters no slower than might have
been looked for, whether it were by the pushing on of the south wind,
or by the hand of Weird that would not have her die.
Long she slumbered, for when she awoke it was broad day and the sun was
shining high in the heavens, and she cleared her eyes and looked
around, and saw before her the land, but yet blue in the offing. And
the tree-bole was yet speeding on towards the shore, as if it were
being drawn there by some bidding of might.
Now indeed grew Birdalone happy, and she thought if any had helped her
it must have been the wood-mother once again; and she said to herself
that she should soon meet with that helper; nor heeded she that she was
naked and unfurnished of any goods, whereas she deemed indeed that it
was but to ask and have of her friend.
For a while indeed she knew not whither she was wending, and if her
face were verily turned toward the land under the wood; but as the
morning wore the blue distance began to grow green, and then she saw
that a great wood was indeed before her, and thereafter, as it cleared
yet more, she knew the land she was nearing for the meadows of the
House under the Wood, and it was not long thence ere she saw clear and
close Green Eyot and Rocky Eyot, though the house was yet hidden from
her by the green shores of the first of those two isles.
Shortly to tell it, her tree-bole floated with her past the outer ness
of Green Eyot, and came ashore in that same sandy bight where erst she
was wonted to make her body ready for the water. She stepped ashore all
glad to feel the firm warm sand underneath her foot-soles, and as one
drunk with joy she was when the tall flowery grass of the latter May
was caressing her legs as they shook the seed-dust off the bents, and
smote the fragrance out of the blossoms; and she might scarce at first
lift her eyes from their familiar loveliness. Glad she was indeed, but
exceeding worn and weary with the long voyage, and all the longing and
fear and hope which had encompassed her that while. She lifted up her
eyes but once, and saw the witch’s house standing where it was wont,
but no shape of man moving about it; then she turned aside to a little
brake of thorn and eglantine in the meadow hard by, and laid her down
on the grass in the shade thereof, and almost before her head touched
the ground she fell asleep, and slept there long and peacefully.