Now to port the tremendous vagueness and secrecy of the night began to give before something that seemed less like light than life; the sky showed scarcely a change, yet the sea had altered and now, low in the east, dim, red and luminous, like the banked smoke of burning cities, a line of mist lay suddenly revealed above the line of sea.
A gull passed the boat, soaring on the wind, and the wind whipped the sea with renewed life and freshness, and the sea cast its spray at Katafa as she steered, her eyes wandering from the sail to the old and accustomed glory, the wild, triumphant splendour of the east aflame.
Two great zones of light, like the knees of the angel of the dawn, showed, and, far above, wings in tumultuous colour and wide-spread arms of light struggling as if to smash down the crystal doors—and then, tumult dying and colour fading, at a stroke the western sky showed not a single star and in the eastern sky stood day.
Dick awoke from sleep with the sun half lifted above the horizon. Creeping aft, he took his place beside Katafa, but though she gave the tiller to him and, slipping down, rested her head against her knee, she could not sleep.
The island they had left vanished utterly from sight; they were alone with the sea, and now for the first time came doubt.
She knew the sea and its absolute infidelity, its traps and surprises, should they not find Karolin; should some storm rise suddenly and blow them into the unknown east, or the west where the dead men warm themselves round the dying sun!
She glanced up at Dick—Dick, beautiful as the god of youth and as serene—Dick, who had only known the waters of the lagoon and the sea beyond the reef and who was gazing now at the sea itself, untroubled by its vastness and unafraid.
Whilst her eyes held him she knew no fear, but when her eyes left him doubt returned. She had been so long separated from the sea that the guiding sense and instinct that served the fishermen for compass had all but deserted her. She felt lost.
She had forgotten the guiding sign placed long ago above the great lagoon by God, whose garden is Nature and whose rivers are the currents of the sea. Dick, perhaps divining her trouble by that subtle sense which enabled them to communicate without words, leaned sideways towards her as he steered and, letting the boat a few points off her course, pointed to where, far ahead, the light of the great lagoon formed its wan, miraculous window in the sky.