The wind bore them all in, they cutting the water
before them, gliding round the point of the sand-bar, making their way
up the channel of the bay in the lessening light, a chain of gigantic
sea-birds with white or ruddy wings.
All around the bay the islands lay, their hills a soft red purple in the
light of a clear November evening. In the blue sky above there were
layers of vapour like thin gray gossamers, on which the rosy light
shone. The waters of the bay were calmer than the sea outside, yet they
were still broken by foam; across the foam the boats went sweeping,
until in the shadow of the isles and the fast-descending night they each
furled their sails and stopped their journey. It was in the western side
of the bay that the vessels lay, for the gale was from the west, and
here they found shelter; but night had descended suddenly, and Caius
could only see the black form of the nearest island, and the twinkling
lights that showed where houses were collected on its shore. They waited
there till the moon rose large and white, touching the island hills
again into visible existence. It was over one small rocky island that
she rose; this was the one that stood sentry at the entrance of the bay,
and on either side of it there were moon-lit paths that stretched far
out into the gulf. On the nearer island could be seen long sand reaches,
and dark rounded hills, and in a hollow of the hills the clustered
lights.
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