Chapter 69

After A Long Interval, By Night They Are Becalmed

Now suns rose, and set; moons grew, and waned; till, at last, the star
that erewhile heralded the dawn, presaged the eve; to us, sad token!--
while deep within the deepest heart of Mardi's circle, we sailed from
sea to sea; and isle to isle; and group to group;--vast empires
explored, and inland valleys, to their utmost heads; and for every ray
in heaven, beheld a king.

Needless to recount all that then befell; what tribes and caravans we
saw; what vast horizons; boundless plains: and sierras, in their every
intervale, a nation nestling.

Enough that still we roamed.

It was evening; and as the red sun, magnified, launched into the wave,
once more, from a wild strand, we launched our three canoes.

Soon, from her clouds, hooded Night, like a nun from a convent, drew
nigh. Rustled her train, yet no spangles were there. But high on her
brow, still shone her pale crescent; haloed by bandelets--violet, red,
and yellow. So looked the lone watcher through her rainbow-iris; so
sad, the night without stars.

The winds were laid; the lagoon, still, as a prairie of an August noon.

"Let us dream out the calm," said Media. "One of ye paddlers, watch:
Ho companions! who's for Cathay?"

Sleep reigned throughout the canoes, sleeping upon the waters. But
nearer and nearer, low-creeping along, came mists and vapors, a
thousand; spotted with twinklings of Will-o-Wisps from
neighboring shores. Dusky leopards, stealing on by crouches, those
vapors seemed.

Hours silently passed. When startled by a cry, Taji sprang to his
feet; against which something rattled; then, a quick splash! and a
dark form bounded into the lagoon.

The dozing watcher had called aloud; and, about to stab, the assassin,
dropping his stiletto, plunged.

Peering hard through those treacherous mists, two figures in a
shallop, were espied; dragging another, dripping, from the brine.

"Foiled again, and foiled forever. No foe's corpse was I."

As we gazed, in the gloom quickly vanished the shallop; ere ours could
be reversed to pursue.

Then, from the opposite mists, glided a second canoe; and beneath the
Iris round the moon, shone now another:--Hautia's flowery flag!

Vain to wave the sirens off; so still they came.

One waved a plant of sickly silver-green.

"The Midnight Tremmella!" cried Yoomy; "the falling-star of flowers!--
Still I come, when least foreseen; then flee."

The second waved a hemlock top, the spike just tapering its final
point. The third, a convolvulus, half closed. "The end draws nigh, and
all thy hopes are waning." Then they proffered