They ran through Vilna, on through flat stretches of Courland to Libau, where they saw the sea. They sat and stared at it for a whole day, talking little but watching it with wide, wondering eyes. And they stared at the great ships that came rocking in from distant ports, their sides gray with the salt from the big combers which they had battled with.
No wonder this America of ours is big. We draw the brave ones from the old lands, the brave ones whose dreams are like the guiding sign that was given to the Israelites of old—a pillar of cloud by day, a pillar of fire by night.
The harbormaster spoke to Ivan and Anna as they watched the restless waters.
"Where are you going, children?"
"To America," answered Ivan.
"A long way. Three ships bound for America went down last month."
"Our ship will not sink," said Ivan.
"Why?"
"Because I know it will not."
The harbor master looked at the strange blue eyes of the giant, and spoke softly. "You have the eyes of a man who sees things," he said. "There was a Norwegian sailor in the White Queen, who had eyes like yours, and he could see death."