Energy and skill were
in every stroke, and the dark spot came down the streak of light, like
the swallow touching the water with its wing.
"Hither, Jacopo--thou steerest wide!"
The beak of the gondola turned, and the glaring eye of the Bravo caught
a glimpse of the fisherman's head.
"Quickly, good Jacopo,--I fail!"
The murmuring of the water again drowned the stifled words. The efforts
of the oar were frenzied, and at each stroke the light gondola appeared
to rise from its element.
"Jacopo--hither--dear Jacopo!"
"The mother of God aid thee, fisherman!--I come."
"Jacopo--the boy!--the boy!"
The water gurgled; an arm was visible in the air, and it disappeared.
The gondola drove upon the spot where the limb had just been visible,
and a backward stroke, that caused the ashen blade to bend like a reed,
laid the trembling boat motionless. The furious action threw the Lagune
into ebullition, but, when the foam subsided, it lay calm as the blue
and peaceful vault it reflected.
"Antonio!"--burst from the lips of the Bravo.
A frightful silence succeeded the call. There was neither answer nor
human form. Jacopo compressed the handle of his oar with fingers of
iron, and his own breathing caused him to start. On every side he bent a
frenzied eye, and on every side he beheld the profound repose of that
treacherous element which is so terrible in its wrath. Like the human
heart, it seemed to sympathize with the tranquil beauty of the midnight
view; but, like the human heart, it kept its own fearful secrets.
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