He wanted to be at the tip
of their projection. So they left off looking at the faint sparks that
glimmered out of nowhere, in the far distance, called England, and
turned their faces to the unfathomed night in front.
They went right to the bows of the softly plunging vessel. In the
complete obscurity, Birkin found a comparatively sheltered nook, where
a great rope was coiled up. It was quite near the very point of the
ship, near the black, unpierced space ahead. There they sat down,
folded together, folded round with the same rug, creeping in nearer and
ever nearer to one another, till it seemed they had crept right into
each other, and become one substance. It was very cold, and the
darkness was palpable.
One of the ship's crew came along the deck, dark as the darkness, not
really visible. They then made out the faintest pallor of his face. He
felt their presence, and stopped, unsure--then bent forward. When his
face was near them, he saw the faint pallor of their faces. Then he
withdrew like a phantom.
Pages:
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801