Конец рабства
IX
Thepalpitatingcloudoftheirwingssoaredandstoopedoverthepinnaclesoftherocks,overtherocksslenderlikespires,squatlikemartellotowers;overthepyramidalheapslikefallenruins,overthelinesofbaldbowldersshowinglikeawallofstonesbatteredtopiecesandscorchedbylightning—withthesleepy,clearglimmerofwaterineverybreach.Thenoiseoftheircontinuousandviolentscreamingfilledtheair.
ThisgreatnoisewouldmeettheSofalacomingupfromBatuBeru;itwouldmeetheronquietevenings,apitilessandsavageclamorenfeebledbydistance,theclamorofseabirdssettlingtorest,andstrugglingforafootingattheendoftheday.Noonenoticeditespeciallyonboard;itwasthevoiceoftheirship’sunerringlandfall,endingthesteadystretchofahundredmiles.Shehadmadegoodhercourse,shehadrunherdistancetillthepunctualisletsbegantoemergeonebyone,thepointsofrocks,thehummocksofearth...andthecloudofbirdshovered—therestlesscloudemittingastridentandcrueluproar,thesoundofthefamiliarscene,thelivingpartofthebrokenlandbeneath,oftheoutspreadsea,andofthehighskywithoutaflaw.
ButwhentheSofalahappenedtoclosewiththelandaftersunsetshewouldfindeverythingverystillthereunderthemantleofthenight.
