It was like a mist, rising out of the water, on the extreme verge of the horizon; and appeared to be no larger than a man’s hand. Gradually—but by very slow degrees—it grew more apparent, and, after the eye had rested on it for a short space longer, presented a bold and distinct outline.
On this simple object the inmates of the good ship “Eliza” gazed earnestly for several successive minutes. The most protracted gaze elicited no more than was seen by a first and cursory glance; but, though they were not ignorant of this, every one still looked upon it, after they had viewed it over and over again, with unabated interest. It was a landmark, and, though it was land that they were never to tread, it connected them, by association, and by the train of images that it involuntarily forced into their minds, with the world that they had left, and showed that the wide waste of waters around was not their only home.
For a little time, Hildebrand and Don Rafaele surveyed the dim landmark in silence. After he had satisfied his curiosity respecting its aspect, however, the latter person, in his usual musical voice, proceeded to inquire its name.
“And what land may that be, Senhor?” he inquired of Hildebrand.
“’Tis the island of St. George, one of the Azores,” answered Hildebrand.
“Be the Azores on the way to England?” asked Don Rafaele, with some surprise.
Hildebrand, from whatever motive, made no reply at the moment; but, turning round, first led him back to the quarter-deck. When they had come to their former position, by the after-hatchway, he rendered an explanation.
“Of a surety, they are not in the direct way to England, Senhor,” he said, “for our purpose does not take us thither straight. ’Twas for this, and not that I liked not thy fair company, that I hesitated to bring thee with us from Cadiz.”
“Oh, I care not! I care not!” answered Don Rafaele, with a smile. “I’faith, I am quite a mariner now.”
“Ah, Senhor!” returned Hildebrand, “we may, perchance, never tread the merry land again. And in this apprehension, I account not the perils of the sea, but the more fatal perils of war.”