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Updated: April 30, 2025
... "Scuza, Doct-a! look-a out!" Julien bent down, as the big boom, loosened, swung over his head. The San Marco was rounding into shore, heading for her home. Sparicio lifted a huge conch-shell from the deck, put it to his lips, filled his deep lungs, and flung out into the night thrice a profound, mellifluent, booming horn-tone. A minute passed.
Over the sea, behind them, lay, black-stretching, a long low arm of island-shore; before them flamed the splendor of sun-death; they were sailing into a mighty glory, into a vast and awful light of gold. Shading his vision with his fingers, Sparicio pointed to the long lean limb of land from which they were fleeing, and said to La Brierre: "Look-a, Doct-a! Last-a Islan'!"
Julien knew it; he only nodded his head in reply, and looked the other way, into the glory of God. Then, wishing to divert the fisherman's attention to another theme, he asked what was Carmelo singing. Sparicio at once shouted to the lad: "Ha! ... ho! Carmelo! Santu diavulu! ... Sing-a loud-a! Doct-a lik-a! Sing-a! sing!" .... "He sing-a nicee," added the boatman, with his peculiar dark smile.
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