So did thought and passion
and vision charge his frame and his countenance, that
for a moment truly there was effulgence. It startled. Don
Luis held his speech suspended, in his eyes wonder. Master
Christopherus let fall his arm. He sighed. The out-pushing
light faltered, vanished. One might say, if one chose,
"A Genoese sea captain, willing to do an adventurous thing
and make a purse thereby!"
CHAPTER VIII
JUAN LEPE, quitting the Vega of Granada, recrossed
the mountains. I was at wander. I did not go to
Malaga. I did not then go to Palos. I went to San
Lucar. I had adventures, but I will not draw them here.
The ocean by Palos continued with me in sight and sound
and movement. But I did not go to Palos. I went to the
strand of San Lucar, and there I found a small bark trading
not to Genoa but to Marseilles. Seamen lacked, and
the master took me gladly. I freshened knowledge upon this
voyage.
The master was a dour, quiet Catalan; his three sons
favored him and their six sailors more or less took the note.
The sea ran quiet and blue under a quiet blue heaven. At
night all the stars shone, or only light clouds went overhead.
It was a restful boat and Jayme de Marchena rested. Even
while his body labored he rested. The sense of Danger in
every room, walking on every road, took leave. Yet was
there throughout that insistent sight of Palos beach and the
gray and wild Atlantic.
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