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Johnston, Mary, 1870-1936

"1492"

"Well,
Doctor, how goes it?" He and I rested good friends. I
said, "Why, it goes well."
"I was thinking, watching the moon, how little I ever
dreamed, being no sea-going man, of such a thing as this.
Who knows his fate? A man's a strange matter!"
"He is a ballad," I answered., "One stave leads to another
and the story mounts."
"I cannot think what to-morrow may show us!"
"Nor can I! But it will be important. We enter by a
narrow strait great widths of the future."
"There will be great changes, doubtless. Our world is
growing little. Everybody feels that we must push out!
It isn't only Spain, but all kingdoms."
Pedro Gutierrez joined us. "You are a learned man,
Doctor! What like are the women of Cipango?"
The moon, past the full yet strong enough to silver
this vast shield, rose higher. The sails of the _Pinta_ and the
Nina were curves of pearl, our sails above us pale mountains.
The light dimmed our lanterns. Crowned woman
at our prow would be bathed in it as she ran across Ocean-
Sea. It washed our decks, pricked out our moving men.
They cast shadows. The master had served out an extra
draught of wine. It was hardly needed. We were all lifted,
with visions drumming in our heads. Fray Ignatio stood
against the mast, and I knew that he felt a pulpit and was
making his sermon. After a time, Diego de Arana and
Pedro Gutierrez moving away, I was alone.


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