University of Virginia Library

VI.

BRRRRRRRRRRR! … The steam-winch is lifting the anchor; and the Guadeloupe trembles through every plank as the iron torrent of her chain-cable rumbles through the hawse-holes. … At last the quivering ceases;—there is a moment's silence; and Violet-Eyes seems trying to catch a last glimpse of her faithful bonne among the ever-thickening crowd upon the quay. … Ah! there she is— waving her foulard. Mademoiselle Lys is waving a handkerchief in reply. …

Suddenly the shock of the farewell gun shakes heavily through our hearts, and over the bay,—where the tall mornes catch the flapping thunder, and buffet it through all their circle in tremendous mockery. Then there is a great whirling and whispering of whitened water behind the steamer—another,— another; and the whirl becomes

a foaming stream: the mighty propeller is playing!. … All the blue harbor swings slowly round;—and the green limbs of the land are pushed out further on the left, shrink back upon the right;—and the mountains are moving their shoulders. And then the many-tinted façades,—and the tamarinds of the Place Bertin,—and the light-house,—and the long wharves with their throng of turbaned women,—and the cathedral towers,—and the

BASSE-TERRE, ST. KITT'S.

[Description: Inline image. Black-and-white engraving of a distant mountain overlooking water.]

fair palms,—and the statues of the hills,—all veer, change place, and begin to float away … steadily, very swiftly.

Farewell, fair city,—sun-kissed city,—many-fountained city!— dear yellow-glimmering streets,—white pavements learned by heart,—and faces ever looked for,—and voices ever loved! Farewell, white towers with your golden-throated bells!— farewell, green steeps, bathed in the light of summer everlasting!—craters with your coronets of forest!—bright mountain paths upwinding 'neath pomp of fern and angelin and feathery bamboo!—and gracious palms that drowse above the dead!

Farewell, soft-shadowing majesty of valleys unfolding to the sun,—green golden cane-fields ripening to the sea! …

… The town vanishes. The island slowly becomes a green silhouette. So might Columbus first have seen it from the deck of his caravel,—nearly four hundred years ago. At this distance there are no more signs of life upon it than when it first became visible to his eyes: yet there are cities there,—and toiling,— and suffering,—and gentle hearts that knew me. … Now it is turning blue,—the beautiful shape!—becoming a dream. …