The sun, rayless,
round, blue-white, lagged away toward the west, seeming to sway in
high heaven as _Nissr_ took her long dips with the grace and swiftness
of a flying falcon. Some time later the cloud-masses thinned and broke
away, leaving the world of waters spread below in terrible immensity.
As the African coast drew near, its arid influences banished vapor.
Now, clear to the up-curving edge of the world, nothing could be seen
below save the steel-gray, shining plains of water. Waves seemed not
to exist. All looked smooth and polished as a mirror of bright metal.
At last, something like dim veils of whiteness began to draw and
shimmer on the eastern skyline--the vague glare of the sun-crisped
Sahara flinging its furnace ardor to the sky. To catch first sight
of land, the Master and Bohannan climbed the ladder again, to the
take-off, and thence made their way into the starboard observation
gallery. There they brought glasses to bear. Though nothing definite
could yet be seen through the shrouding dazzle that swaddled the
world's rim, this fore-hint of land confirmed their reckonings of
latitude and longitude.
"We can't be more than a hundred and fifty miles west of the
Canaries," judged the major.
Pages:
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186