[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
ship came close enough to take an interest in theDemeter, and when night fell
again I judged that the time had come to get to land as best I could by my own
actions.
The raising and ordering of a major storm is an exhausting business, and one
not altogether pleasant. Even after I had identified the harbor that I sought
and worked the ship 'round to it, great exertion was required to aim the
schooner at last "as if by a miracle," in the words of a newspaper
account between the piers that guarded the harbor mouth, so that she flew in
to finally ground with little damage upon a shingle of dark stones just
beneath the tall east cliff.
Electric lighting had then been in gradually increasing use in England for
some ten years, but in my backwaters of Eastern Europe I had not yet seen it;
and when the searchlight, quite powerful for its day, glared from one of the
piers toward my fleeing ship I was startled and knew not what to expect next.
When the light struck I was directing the last necessary push of the wind in
Page 30
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
bat-form, so as to be ready to fly free, if need be, from a sudden grounding
shock. My clawed feet were both snugly gripped about some rigging lines and my
wings were furled close about me in the wind. Even in the searchlight's glare
none of the onlookers thronging the piers and shore were able to make out my
small brown form upon a mast. That so many folk were out to watch, at this
hour of the night, was a surprise to me. I had not realized that Whitby was
something of a resort town, full of folk not used to the ocean and its moods,
and the storm itself had attracted hordes of sightseers to the shore.
Bat's eyes are bothered by electric glare, and as soon as I saw that the ship
was inevitably going to ground in a few moments I dropped into the
companionway and altered form to that of a wolf. As soon as the first thrill
of grounding ran up through the schooner's bottom, the entertainment seekers
on the cliffs were surprised to see an "immense dog" as a reporter wrote
spring up on deck from below. It jumped ashore from the bow and at once
vanished in the darkness beyond the searchlight's reach.
To run as a wolf is a powerful and easy mode of travel, less dreamlike and
less dependent on the air than bat flight, faster and more effortless than
running as a man. In less than a minute I had reached the darker, inland
regions of the town, which seemed as still and deserted now as if the entire
populace had gone to line the oceanside and watch the storm. After some little
time spent waiting among the deeper shadows of a narrow street I felt sure
that no one had pursued or followed me from the harbor, and let myself return
to man-shape. This process excited a large mastiff that had been cringing,
moaning its fear of the wolf, in a coalyard opposite. When wolf smell changed
to something like man smell the brute was emboldened to attack, and came out
after me.
Ordinarily I would probably have soothed the beast and sent it home again,
but my nonphysical powers were greatly wearied by the raising and direction of
the storm. Under the circumstances I thought the dog fair game, and drank its
blood as restorative. Its torn body was found the next day, but was not for a
long time connected with the arrival in the harbor of fifty large boxes
invoiced as clay.
Feeling stronger in the hours before dawn, I stalked the rain-wet streets of
Whitby in search of a vantage point from which I might see the grounded
schooner without coming too close to her. I was wearily reluctant to take on
bat-form but still wanted to see what, if anything, was being done with her
precious cargo.
For this purpose of observation the small churchyard on a cliff high above
the town and harbor proved to be ideal. It was a wild, magnificent scene that
I beheld from this clifftop before dawn; of course by now I had let go my
reins on weather, and the storm was much abated. But the ocean was still
sullen and unruly and the sky filled with low, scudding clouds. I was sated
and revitalized with fresh blood and exalted in the grandeur of the scene and
in what I took to be my victorious arrival against considerable odds. The
small parish church near which I stood and the great ruined abbey above were
both empty of human life, and I stood there watching until nearly dawn before
taking my way on bat wings down to the ship again.
If I was roused from sleep at all by my box being unloaded with the others I
have no recollection of the disturbance now. Mr. Billington, the good Whitby
solicitor to whom the shipment had been consigned, had dutifully brought a
crew of men aboard theDemeterwith the morning tide, and when I woke once more
at sunset I found myself still amid my fifty boxes of sweet earth, stacked now
in a dry warehouse.
Page 31
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
For the next few days I endured a rather passive though risky existence.
Inquiries about the shipwreck were in the air. The admiralty, as I gathered
from a few words overheard, were taking an interest; harbor dues were payable,
and in the midst of these threatened complications Billington dawdled over
completing the arrangements for my shipment by train to London.
Meanwhile I of course went out at night and despite these problems enjoyed
myself enormously. Change and promise and success seemed to be in the air,
along with the salt tang from the North Sea, which I began to practice
breathing to enjoy. On my nocturnal ramblings I even caught myself looking for
mirrors; I actually nursed stirrings of faint, unreasoned hope that at least
the ghostly outline of my reflection would now be visible.
The mirrors were always disappointments but my existence otherwise had none.
The life of the seaside town flowed on at night in the open air as well as
behind doors, and no one's life seemed bound in secrecy or fear. I listened to
band concerts on the piers. I heard much laughter in the streets. It seemed to
me then that even the poor and wretched of this new country were conscious of
all the possibilities of enjoyment in the world, and meant to have some for
themselves. I marveled happily. After killing the dog I fed no more during
those first few English nights. In fact I felt little craving for blood, a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
ship came close enough to take an interest in theDemeter, and when night fell
again I judged that the time had come to get to land as best I could by my own
actions.
The raising and ordering of a major storm is an exhausting business, and one
not altogether pleasant. Even after I had identified the harbor that I sought
and worked the ship 'round to it, great exertion was required to aim the
schooner at last "as if by a miracle," in the words of a newspaper
account between the piers that guarded the harbor mouth, so that she flew in
to finally ground with little damage upon a shingle of dark stones just
beneath the tall east cliff.
Electric lighting had then been in gradually increasing use in England for
some ten years, but in my backwaters of Eastern Europe I had not yet seen it;
and when the searchlight, quite powerful for its day, glared from one of the
piers toward my fleeing ship I was startled and knew not what to expect next.
When the light struck I was directing the last necessary push of the wind in
Page 30
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
bat-form, so as to be ready to fly free, if need be, from a sudden grounding
shock. My clawed feet were both snugly gripped about some rigging lines and my
wings were furled close about me in the wind. Even in the searchlight's glare
none of the onlookers thronging the piers and shore were able to make out my
small brown form upon a mast. That so many folk were out to watch, at this
hour of the night, was a surprise to me. I had not realized that Whitby was
something of a resort town, full of folk not used to the ocean and its moods,
and the storm itself had attracted hordes of sightseers to the shore.
Bat's eyes are bothered by electric glare, and as soon as I saw that the ship
was inevitably going to ground in a few moments I dropped into the
companionway and altered form to that of a wolf. As soon as the first thrill
of grounding ran up through the schooner's bottom, the entertainment seekers
on the cliffs were surprised to see an "immense dog" as a reporter wrote
spring up on deck from below. It jumped ashore from the bow and at once
vanished in the darkness beyond the searchlight's reach.
To run as a wolf is a powerful and easy mode of travel, less dreamlike and
less dependent on the air than bat flight, faster and more effortless than
running as a man. In less than a minute I had reached the darker, inland
regions of the town, which seemed as still and deserted now as if the entire
populace had gone to line the oceanside and watch the storm. After some little
time spent waiting among the deeper shadows of a narrow street I felt sure
that no one had pursued or followed me from the harbor, and let myself return
to man-shape. This process excited a large mastiff that had been cringing,
moaning its fear of the wolf, in a coalyard opposite. When wolf smell changed
to something like man smell the brute was emboldened to attack, and came out
after me.
Ordinarily I would probably have soothed the beast and sent it home again,
but my nonphysical powers were greatly wearied by the raising and direction of
the storm. Under the circumstances I thought the dog fair game, and drank its
blood as restorative. Its torn body was found the next day, but was not for a
long time connected with the arrival in the harbor of fifty large boxes
invoiced as clay.
Feeling stronger in the hours before dawn, I stalked the rain-wet streets of
Whitby in search of a vantage point from which I might see the grounded
schooner without coming too close to her. I was wearily reluctant to take on
bat-form but still wanted to see what, if anything, was being done with her
precious cargo.
For this purpose of observation the small churchyard on a cliff high above
the town and harbor proved to be ideal. It was a wild, magnificent scene that
I beheld from this clifftop before dawn; of course by now I had let go my
reins on weather, and the storm was much abated. But the ocean was still
sullen and unruly and the sky filled with low, scudding clouds. I was sated
and revitalized with fresh blood and exalted in the grandeur of the scene and
in what I took to be my victorious arrival against considerable odds. The
small parish church near which I stood and the great ruined abbey above were
both empty of human life, and I stood there watching until nearly dawn before
taking my way on bat wings down to the ship again.
If I was roused from sleep at all by my box being unloaded with the others I
have no recollection of the disturbance now. Mr. Billington, the good Whitby
solicitor to whom the shipment had been consigned, had dutifully brought a
crew of men aboard theDemeterwith the morning tide, and when I woke once more
at sunset I found myself still amid my fifty boxes of sweet earth, stacked now
in a dry warehouse.
Page 31
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
For the next few days I endured a rather passive though risky existence.
Inquiries about the shipwreck were in the air. The admiralty, as I gathered
from a few words overheard, were taking an interest; harbor dues were payable,
and in the midst of these threatened complications Billington dawdled over
completing the arrangements for my shipment by train to London.
Meanwhile I of course went out at night and despite these problems enjoyed
myself enormously. Change and promise and success seemed to be in the air,
along with the salt tang from the North Sea, which I began to practice
breathing to enjoy. On my nocturnal ramblings I even caught myself looking for
mirrors; I actually nursed stirrings of faint, unreasoned hope that at least
the ghostly outline of my reflection would now be visible.
The mirrors were always disappointments but my existence otherwise had none.
The life of the seaside town flowed on at night in the open air as well as
behind doors, and no one's life seemed bound in secrecy or fear. I listened to
band concerts on the piers. I heard much laughter in the streets. It seemed to
me then that even the poor and wretched of this new country were conscious of
all the possibilities of enjoyment in the world, and meant to have some for
themselves. I marveled happily. After killing the dog I fed no more during
those first few English nights. In fact I felt little craving for blood, a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]