At this moment, the blackness of the atmosphere became appalling; and a cry of horror went up from the galleys. All were pointing to the island. The queen looked, and fell half fainting upon Deucalion. As he sustained her, he whispered to Sensel: “It hath come!”
Yes, it had come. There lay their beloved island at the mercy of fierce warring elements. For, about it were dread waterspouts; upon it were falling sheets of water; above it were playing the fiery messengers of Amen. And the ocean responded white.
Although so terror-stricken, the occupants of the galleys were anxious to return; and but waited to follow the queen. Already she was reviving; and presently stood up for another view, saying reproachfully, “We move not toward it.”
“Look! Look!” cried many voices.
And utter despair came upon all. The island was rocking as if in the throes of a mighty earthquake, the waves were leaping up its cliffs, the waterspouts were breaking, the thunderbolts falling, the northern sky beginning to blaze.
“The mountain burneth!” they cried. And fell on their knees. Once, only, in the history of the island, had this volcano burst its bands.
Queen Atlana had looked to fall back insensible into the arms of Deucalion. He bore her to a couch in the withdrawing room; and then hung over her with restoratives, Electra, Æole, and the ladies—each dumb with apprehension.
Outside, Hellen was addressing the galleys with tones firm and far-reaching, for he felt all-powerful now that Electra was not to return.
“Ye Nobles, Elders, and Captains; the ‘Silent Priest’ is firm that the island is doomed. If ye go back, it is to your death. If ye press on with us toward the Middle Sea, ye will be saved. What say ye, captains of the galleys?”
There followed hurried consultations between the captains and their employers. Finally, one captain answered, “We, of this galley, will press on.”