A voice came to them.
“Hello,” it said.
They puffed out their cheeks and began to shout.
“Hello! Hello! Hello!”
“Wot do yeh want?” said the voice.
The two wanderers gazed at each other, and sat suddenly
down on the raft. Some pall came sweeping over
the sky and quenched their stars.
But almost the tall man got up and brawled miscellaneous
information. He stamped his foot, and frowning
into the night, swore threateningly.
The vessel seemed fearful of these moaning voices
that called from a hidden cavern of the water.
And now one voice was filled with a menace. A
number of men with enormous limbs that threw vast shadows
over the sea as the lanterns flickered, held a debate
and made gestures.
Off in the darkness, the tall man began to clamor
like a mob. The freckled man sat in astounded
silence, with his legs weak.
After a time one of the men of enormous limbs seized
a rope that was tugging at the stem and drew a small
boat from the shadows. Three giants clambered
in and rowed cautiously toward the raft. Silver
water flashed in the gloom as the oars dipped.
About fifty feet from the raft the boat stopped.
“Who er you?” asked a voice.
The tall man braced himself and explained. He
drew vivid pictures, his twirling fingers illustrating
like live brushes.
“Oh,” said the three giants.
The voyagers deserted the raft. They looked back,
feeling in their hearts a mite of tenderness for the
wet planks. Later, they wriggled up the side
of the vessel and climbed over the railing.
On deck they met a man.
He held a lantern to their faces. “Got
any chewin’ tewbacca?” he inquired.
“No,” said the tall man, “we ain’t.”
The man had a bronze face and solitary whiskers.
Peculiar lines about his mouth were shaped into an
eternal smile of derision. His feet were bare,
and clung handily to crevices.
Fearful trousers were supported by a piece of suspender
that went up the wrong side of his chest and came
down the right side of his back, dividing him into
triangles.
“Ezekiel P. Sanford, capt’in, schooner
‘Mary Jones,’ of N’yack, N. Y.,
genelmen,” he said.
“Ah!” said the tall man, “delighted,
I’m sure.”
There were a few moments of silence. The giants
were hovering in the gloom and staring.
Suddenly astonishment exploded the captain.
“Wot th’ devil——”
he shouted. “Wot th’ devil yeh got
on?”
“Bathing-suits,” said the tall man.
The schooner went on. The two voyagers sat down
and watched. After a time they began to shiver.
The soft blackness of the summer night passed away,
and grey mists writhed over the sea. Soon lights
of early dawn went changing across the sky, and the
twin beacons on the highlands grew dim and sparkling
faintly, as if a monster were dying. The dawn
penetrated the marrow of the two men in bathing-dress.
