The Gates of Morning

by H. De Vere Stacpoole

The dawn rose up on the shoulder of a southeast wind, warm, steady, and breezing the gold of the lagoon water.

Gulls flew about the schooner on board of which Dick and Aioma had slept so as to be ready for an early start.

Now could be heard Aioma’s voice calling up the hands from the foc’sle and now Katafa, watching from the shore, could hear the sound of the winch heaving the anchor chain short.

Poni, who had been chief man under Sru, knew all the moves in the game. He watched the mainsail set and the fore, the gaskets taken off the jib; talking to Aioma and explaining things, he waited till the canvas was set and then gave the order for the anchor to be got in.

Le Moan watched as Poni, taking the wheel, let the mainsail fill to the wind that was coming nearly dead from the south, whilst the schooner, moving slowly against the trickle of the ebb, crept up on the village and then turning south in a great curve made for the break on the port tack.

Le Moan could see Katafa far away on the shore backed by the trees of the village, a tiny figure that grew less and less and less as the Gates of Morning widened before them and the thunder of the billows loudened.

The sun had lifted above the sea line and the swell and the wind whipped the spray across the coral of the southern pier whilst Aioma, hypnotized, half terrified, yet showing nothing of it all stood, his dream realized at last.

Oh, but the heart clutch when she heeled to starboard and he recognized that there was no outrigger to port—for the outrigger is always fastened to the port side of canoes—no outrigger to port for the crew to crawl out on and stabilize her by their weight, and when she heeled to port the terror came lest the outrigger should be run too deep under.

There was no outrigger, he knew it—but, just as in the dream ship, he could not get rid of the obsession of it.

Moreover, now that the canvas was raised, now that the wind was bravely filling it, the enormousness of the size of those great sails would have set his teeth chattering had he not clenched his jaws.