“Anyhow, it’s Oriental,” quoth Mrs. Cultus, “and that’s what I’m after just at present.”
Oriental—yes; they had been fascinated by their first glimpse of the Orient and its surfeit of varied impressions. From this time forward Adele was continually looking Eastward with great and increasing eagerness. The shores of the Mediterranean had yet in store for her some experiences quite as forcible as those of the Atlantic mid-ocean, but she knew it not. No doubt this had something to do with her present mood when they came to leave Gibraltar, and she stood with Paul and the Doctor upon deck, watching the disappearance of the Rock.
The steamer took a southerly course when leaving port, heading for the African shore, then bore off towards the Orient, which was the real goal of their voyage. When passing Europa Point the impregnable Rock, with terraced fortifications, loomed up in gigantic proportions; seen edgewise, its decreased width added to the apparent height. Lofty and massive, it was indeed a Pillar of Hercules at the Gateway of the Inland Sea.
The steamer passed into more open waters, the Rock rising higher and higher, as if determined to assert its majesty, no longer a pillar but a column of Victory, a strong and mighty outpost of Europe, an advance guard of that domain which lay behind, a bulwark of defence, a salient point for attack, a formidable diplomatic menace to the nomads of Africa—“Thus far shalt thou go and no farther.” And they sailed onwards, out upon the blue expanse of sea and sky; the landscape receded from view and different objects sank in turn beneath the horizon. The graceful curves of the Iberian coast faded away in the background, the mainland of Europe but a thin line in the distance; the gateway of the Straits soon followed, and the Atlantic, highway to America and home, was lost to sight. There was naught left in what they saw to suggest America.
As the ship sailed on, the sunlight pouring upon the sands of Africa produced a hazy, luminous, rose-tinted mist o’er the Land of the Moors, the mountains of Morocco blended away amid the fleecy clouds in the azure of distance.
And they gazed until the sombre outline of the Rock alone remained, an isolated dot upon the waters. A fisherman’s craft scudded across the open, the Rock was hidden behind a sail. A sea gull flitted along the horizon, the Rock was no larger than a bird. The human eye grew weak in the effort to retain its whereabouts. Could it yet be seen? Yes, it is there—a mere speck in space! No, ’tis gone! Gibraltar had disappeared.
Adele, standing between the Doctor and Paul, clinging to the arms of her good friends, looked dreamily upon the vacancy. In thoughtful silence this vivid experience in life had become but a thing of the past.
XX
THE ARTISTIC SENSE
What is the long and short of it?
Art is long, life is short.