(He comes to the table and, taking up the flagon, goes out, left.)
SCENE THREE—The court yard of the abbey, as in Scene Three of the Second Act. A storm is heard roaring through the mountains, with an occasional rumble of thunder and in the darkness sudden luster as of lightning far off. In these flashes, the scene gleams wet as after a hard rain.
From the right, comes a faint sound as of a stick tapping on stone, and soon along the side of the dormitory old Andrew appears, carrying a staff with which he is feeling his way through the darkness.
Andrew—Here a black squall, sou'-wester, south-south-west.
Star—star gone! Where's the pole?
(Shouting.) Furl the main, lads!
On she spins, whirling past world on world. Hip!
Feel her—feel her heave! (Shouting.) Take in the mizzen!
A thousand thousand fathoms down, the moon
Shines like a fish. (He peers around the corner.)
Black as—Hear the masts crack.
Watch Alvinach! Watch for the ninth wave, lads!
(Lightning.)
Put out that broom! You'll have the witches here.
Mother, they've burnt the baby!—Hya! Lie down.
(He walks out in the court.)
Here's a night, God bless us! Here's a gale
To make the sea-girls sing. Scylla! Carribee!
Shake your dead bones! Shake 'em and sing! Blow, then.
Growl, Scylla! Growl, ocean-bitch, bark and growl!
Now, Carribee, whirl! Shake the big gulf and slush!
Gulp down the worlds with stars and moons and moons!
(Lightning.)