Harriwell who had given Bertie Arkwright the more
gorgeous insight into life in the Solomons.
EL DORADO
From "A Tarpaulin Muster," BY JOHN MASEFIELD
The night had fallen over the harbour before the winch began to rattle.
The stars came out, calm and golden, shaking little tracks in the sea.
In the tiers of ships shone the riding-lights. To the westward, where
the Point jutted out, the great golden light of Negra winked and
glimmered as it revolved. It was a beat continually, like the marching
of an army, along the line of the coast. In one of the tiers of ships
there was a sing-song. A crew had gathered on the forecastle head, to
beat their pannikins to the stars. The words of their song floated out
into the darkness, full of a haunting beauty which thrilled and
satisfied me. There was something in the night, in the air, in the
beauty of the town, and in the sweetness of the sailors' singing, which
made me sorry to be leaving. I should have liked to have gone ashore
again, to the _Calle del Inca_, where the cafes and taverns stood. I
should have liked to have seen those stately pale women, in their black
robes, with the scarlet roses in their hair, swaying slowly on the
stage to the clicking of the castenets.
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