#Aqw shadow blade of despair full

It had borne all the ships whose names arelike jewels flashing in the night of time, from the Golden Hindreturning with her rotund flanks full of treasure, to be visited by theQueenвЂ™s Highness and thus pass out of the gigantic tale, to the Erebus and Terror, bound on other conquests-and that neverreturned. Thetidal current runs to and fro in its unceasing service, crowded with memoriesof men and ships it had borne to the rest of home or to the battles of the sea.It had known and served all the men of whom the nation is proud, from SirFrancis Drake to Sir John Franklin, knights all, titled and untitled-thegreat knights-errant of the sea. And indeed nothing is easier for a man who has, as thephrase goes, вЂњfollowed the seaвЂќ with reverence and affection, thanto evoke the great spirit of the past upon the lower reaches of the Thames. We looked at the venerable stream not in the vividflush of a short day that comes and departs for ever, but in the august lightof abiding memories.

The old river in its broad reach rested unruffled at thedecline of day, after ages of good service done to the race that peopled itsbanks, spread out in the tranquil dignity of a waterway leading to theuttermost ends of the earth. Only the gloom to the west, brooding overthe upper reaches, became more sombre every minute, as if angered by theapproach of the sun.ДЄnd at last, in its curved and imperceptible fall, the sun sank low, and fromglowing white changed to a dull red without rays and without heat, as if aboutto go out suddenly, stricken to death by the touch of that gloom brooding overa crowd of men.ДЇorthwith a change came over the waters, and the serenity became less brilliantbut more profound. The water shone pacifically the sky, without a speck,was a benign immensity of unstained light the very mist on the Essex marsh waslike a gauzy and radiant fabric, hung from the wooded rises inland, and drapingthe low shores in diaphanous folds. The day was ending in a serenity of still andexquisite brilliance. We felt meditative, and fit fornothing but placid staring. For some reason orother we did not begin that game of dominoes. Afterwards there was silence on board the yacht. The director, satisfied the anchor had goodhold, made his way aft and sat down amongst us. He had sunken cheeks, a yellow complexion, astraight back, an ascetic aspect, and, with his arms dropped, the palms ofhands outwards, resembled an idol. Marlow sat cross-legged right aft,leaning against the mizzen-mast. The Accountant had brought out already a box of dominoes, and wastoying architecturally with the bones. The Lawyer-the best of old fellows-had, because of hismany years and many virtues, the only cushion on deck, and was lying on theonly rug. It was difficult to realize his workwas not out there in the luminous estuary, but behind him, within the broodinggloom.Д«etween us there was, as I have already said somewhere, the bond of the sea.Besides holding our hearts together through long periods of separation, it hadthe effect of making us tolerant of each otherвЂ™s yarns-and evenconvictions. He resembled a pilot, which toa seaman is trustworthiness personified. On the whole riverthere was nothing that looked half so nautical.

We four affectionatelywatched his back as he stood in the bows looking to seaward. The Director of Companies was our captain and our host. The air was dark aboveGravesend, and farther back still seemed condensed into a mournful gloom,brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth. A haze rested on the lowshores that ran out to sea in vanishing flatness. In the offing the sea and the sky were welded togetherwithout a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails of the bargesdrifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvassharply peaked, with gleams of varnished sprits. The sea-reach of the Thames stretched before us like the beginning of aninterminable waterway.

The flood had made, the wind was nearly calm, and beingbound down the river, the only thing for it was to come to and wait for theturn of the tide. The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter of thesails, and was at rest.

Aqw shadow blade of despair