_Under the Influence of the Moon._
My days now began to drift rather aimlessly, as without apparent purpose
I continued to linger on an island that might well seem to have little
attraction to a stranger--how little I could see by the mystification of
the good Tom, in whom, for once, of course, I could not confide. Yet I
had a vague purpose; or, at least, I had a feeling that, if I waited on,
something would develop in the direction of my hopes. That doubloon
still suggested that it was the key to a door of fascinating mystery to
which Chance might at any moment direct me.
And--why not admit it?--apart from my buried treasure, to the possible
discovery of which the doubloon seemed to point, I was possessed with a
growing desire for another glimpse of those haunting eyes. They needed
not their association with the mysterious gold, they were magnetic
enough to draw any man, with even the rudiments of imagination, along
the path of the unknown. All the paths out of the little settlement were
paths into the unknown, and, day after day, I followed one or another
of them out into the wilderness, taking a gun with me, as an ostensible
excuse for any spying eye, and bringing back with me occasional bags of
the wild pigeons which were plentiful on the island.
One day I had thus wandered unusually far afield, and at nightfall found
myself still several miles from home, on a rocky path overhanging the
sea. The coast-line had been gradually mounting in a series of
precipitous headlands, at the foot of which the sea made a low booming
that suggested hidden caves. Looking over the edge in places, one could
see that it had hollowed out the porous rock well under the base of the
cliffs, and here and there fallen masses of boulder told of a gradual
encroachment which, in course of time, would topple down into the abyss
the precarious pathway on which I stood. Inland the usual level scrub
gave place to a stretch of wild forest, very dense, and composed of
trees of many varieties, loftier than was usual on the island.
There was no sign of habitation anywhere. It was a wild and lonely
place, and presently over its savage beauty stole the glamour of the
moon rising far over the sea. I sat down on a ledge of the cliffs, and
watched the moonlight grow in intensity, as the darkness of the woods
deepened behind me. It was a night full of witchcraft; a night on which
the stars, the moon, and the sea together seemed hinting at some
wonderful thing about to happen.
Far down in the clear water I could see the giant sea-fans waving in a
moony twilight, touched eerily in those glassy depths with sudden rays
of the spectral light; soft bowers of phosphorescence spread a secret
radiance about dimly branching coral groves. And, all the while, the
path of the moon over the sea was growing stronger--laying, it would
seem, an even firmer pathway of silver stretching to the very foot of
the cliff-side.
I am not given to quoting poetry, but involuntarily there came to my
mind some lines remembered from boyhood:
If on some balmy summer night
You rowed across the moon-path white,
And saw the shining sea grow fair
With silver scales and golden hair--
What would you do?
"What would you do?" I repeated dreamily, thinking very likely as I said
them, of two eyes of mysteriously enfolding fire; and then, as if the
fairy night were matching the words with a challenge, what was this
bright wonder suddenly present on one of the boulders far down beneath
me?--a tall shape of witchcraft whiteness, standing, full in the moon,
like a statue in luminous marble of some goddess of antiquity. Only once
before, and but for a moment, had I seen a woman's form so proudly
flowerlike in its superb erectness!
My eyes and my heart together told me it was she; and, as she hung
poised over the edge of the water, in the attitude of one about to dive,
a turn of her head gave me that longed-for glimpse of those living eyes
filled with moonlight. She stood another moment, still as the night, in
her loveliness; and the next, she had dived directly into the path of
the moon. I saw her eyes moon-filled again, as she came to the surface,
and began to swim--not, as one might have expected, out from the land,
but directly in toward the unseen base of the cliffs. The moon-path
_did_ lead to a golden door in the rocks, I said to myself, and she was
about to enter it. It was a secret door known only to herself; and then,
for the first time that night, I thought of that doubloon.
Perhaps if I had not thought of it, I should not have done what then I
did. There will, doubtless, be those who will censure me. If so, I am
afraid they must. At all events, it was the thought of that doubloon
that swayed the balance of my hesitation in taking the moon-path in the
track of that bright apparition. The pursuit of my hidden treasure had
long been so fixed an idea in my mind that a scruple would have had to
be strong indeed to withstand my impulse to follow up so exciting a
clue. (When, alas! has the pursuit of gold heeded any scruples?) Or it
is quite possible that a radically different inclination held this
materialistic excuse as a cloak for itself. A moment of such glamorous
excitement may well account for some confused psychology.
I leave it to others who, less fortunate than I, were not exposed to the
breathless enchantments of that immortal night, those sorceries of a
situation lovely as the wildest dreams of the heart. I looked about for
a way down to the edge of the sea. It was not easy to find, but after
much perilous scrambling, I at length found myself on the boulder which
had so lately been the pedestal of that Radiance; and, in another
moment, I had dived into the moon-path and was swimming toward the
mysterious golden door.
Before me the rocks opened in a deep narrow crevasse, a long rift,
evidently slashing back into the cliff, beneath the road on which I had
been treading. I could see the moonlit water vanishing into a sort of
gleaming lane between the vast overhanging walls. In a few moments I was
near the entrance, but, as yet, I could not touch bottom with my feet,
and so I swam on into the giant portal, into a twilight which was still
luminous with reflections, and to which my eyes readily accustomed
themselves.
Presently I felt my feet rest lightly on firm sand, and, still shoulder
deep in the water, I walked on another yard or two--to be brought to a
sudden stop. There she was coming toward me, breast high in that watery
tunnel! The moon, continuing its serene ascension, lit her up with a
sudden beam. O! shape of bloom and glory!
For a moment we both stood looking at each other, as if transfixed. Then
she gave a frightened cry, and put her hands up to her bosom; as she did
so, a stream of something bright--like gold pieces--fell from her mouth,
and two like streams from her opened hands. Then, as quick as light, she
had darted past me, and dived into the moon-path beyond. She must have
swam under the water a long way, for when I saw her dark head rise again
in the glimmering path, it was at a distance of many yards.
I had no thought of following her, but stood in a dream among the watery
gleams and echoes.
So, once in a lifetime, for a few fortunate ones, all the various magics
of the earth, all the mysterious hints and promises of her loveliness
that make the heart overflow with a prophetic sense of some supernatural
happiness on the brink of coming to pass, combine in one supreme shape
of beauty, given to us by divine ordering, on the starlit summit of one
immortal hour.
For me had come that hour of wonder; for me out of that tropic sea, into
whose flawless deeps my eyes had so often gone adream, had risen the
creature of miracle.
O! shape of moonlit marble! O! holiness of this night of moon and stars
and sea!