now I am half sorry that I altered my mind. But----
We were not more than an hour after time in starting. Perfect weather.
I sang to myself with joy upon the sunny deck as we steamed along the
Bay, past Portici, and Torre del Greco, and into the harbour of Torre
Annunziata, where we had to take on cargo. I was the only cabin
passenger, and solitude suits me. All through the warm and cloudless
afternoon I sat looking at the mountains, trying not to see that
cluster of factory chimneys which rolled black fumes above the
many-coloured houses. They reminded me of the same abomination on a
shore more sacred; from the harbour of Piraeus one looks to Athens
through trails of coal-smoke. By a contrast pleasant enough, Vesuvius
to-day sent forth vapours of a delicate rose-tint, floating far and
breaking seaward into soft little fleeces of cirrus. The cone, covered
with sulphur, gleamed bright yellow against cloudless blue.
The voyage was resumed at dinner-time; when I came upon deck again,
night had fallen. We were somewhere near Sorrento; behind us lay the
long curve of faint-glimmering lights on the Naples shore; ahead was
Capri. In profound gloom, though under a sky all set with stars, we
passed between the island and Cape Minerva; the haven of Capri showed
but a faint glimmer; over it towered mighty crags, an awful blackness,
a void amid constellations. From my seat near the stern of the vessel I
could discern no human form; it was as though I voyaged quite alone in
the silence of this magic sea. Silence so all-possessing that the sound
of the ship’s engine could not reach my ear, but was blended with the
water-splash into a lulling murmur. The stillness of a dead world laid
its spell on all that lived. To-day seemed an unreality, an idle
impertinence; the real was that long-buried past which gave its meaning
to all around me, touching the night with infinite pathos. Best of all,
one’s own being became lost to consciousness; the mind knew only the
phantasmal forms it shaped, and was at peace in vision.
CHAPTER II
PAOLA
I slept little, and was very early on deck, scanning by the light of
dawn a mountainous coast. At sunrise I learnt that we were in sight of
Paola; as day spread gloriously over earth and sky, the vessel hove to
and prepared to land cargo. There, indeed, was the yellowish little
town which I had so long pictured; it stood at a considerable height
above the shore; harbour there was none at all, only a broad beach of
shingle on which waves were breaking, and where a cluster of men, women
and children stood gazing at the steamer. It gave me pleasure to find
the place so small and primitive. In no hurry to land, I watched the
unloading of merchandise (with a great deal of shouting and
gesticulation) into boats which had rowed out for the purpose;
speculated on the resources of Paola in the matter of food (for I was
hungry); and at moments cast an eye towards the mountain barrier which
it was probable I should cross to-day.
At last my portmanteau was dropped down on to the laden boat; I, as
best I could, managed to follow it; and on the top of a pile of rope
and empty flour-sacks we rolled landward. The surf was high; it cost
much yelling, leaping, and splashing to gain the dry beach. Meanwhile,
