The Isles of Sunset


The Isles of Sunset, by Arthur Christopher

The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Isles of Sunset, by Arthur Christopher Benson
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: The Isles of Sunset
Author: Arthur Christopher Benson

Release Date: July 21, 2006 [eBook #18882]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ISLES OF SUNSET***
E-text prepared by Inka Weide, Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/)

THE ISLES OF SUNSET
by
ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON
Author of "The Hill of Trouble," &c. &c.

London: Sir Isaac Pitman & Sons, Ltd. No. 1 Amen Corner, E.C. 1908 Printed by Sir Isaac Pitman & Sons, Ltd., Bath. (2074)

TO HUGH MACNAGHTEN

The milkie way, the bird of Paradise, Church-bels beyond the starres heard, the souls bloud, The land of spices; something understood.
Geo. Herbert

Let those whose Hearts and Hands are strong Tell eager Tales of mighty Deeds; Enough if my sequestered song To hush'd and twilight Gardens leads!
Clear Waters, drawn from secret Wells Perchance may fevered Lips assuage; The Tales an elder Pilgrim tells To such as go on Pilgrimage.
I wander by the waterside, In that cool Hour my Soul loves best, When trembles o'er the rippling Tide A golden Stairway to the West.
Such the soft Path my Words would trace, Thus with the moving Waters move; So leave, across the Ocean's Face, A glimmering Stair to Hope and Love.

Contents
The Isles of Sunset
The Waving of the Sword
Renatus
The Slype House
Out of the Sea
Paul the Minstrel

The Isles of Sunset

About midway between the two horns of the bay, the Isles of Sunset pierced the sea. There was deep blue water all around them, and the sharp and fretted pinnacles of rock rose steeply up to heaven. The top of the largest was blunt, and covered with a little carpet of grass and sea-herbs. The rest were nought but cruel spires, on which no foot but that of sea-birds could go. At one place there was a small creek, into which a boat might be thrust, but only when the sea was calm; and near the top of the rock, just over this, was the dark mouth of a little cave.
The bay in which the Isles lay was quite deserted; the moorland came to the edge of the cliffs, and through a steep and rocky ravine, the sides of which were overgrown with ferns and low trees, all brushed landward by the fierce winds, a stream fell hoarsely to the sea, through deep rockpools. The only living things there were the wild birds, the moorfowl in the heather, hawks that built in the rock face, and pigeons that made their nest in hollow places. Sometimes a stag pacing slowly on the cliff-top would look over, but that was seldom.
Yet on these desolate and fearful rocks there dwelt a man, a hermit named David. He had grown up as a fisher-boy in the neighbouring village--an awkward silent boy with large eyes which looked as though they were full of inward dreams. The people of the place were Christians after a sort, though it was but seldom that a priest came near them; and then only by sea, for there was no road to the place. But David as a boy had heard a little of the Lord Christ, and of the bitter sacrifice he made for men; and there grew up in his heart a great desire to serve Him, and he prayed much in his heart to the Lord, that he would show him what he might do. He had no parents living. His mother was long dead, and his father had been drowned at sea. He lived in the house of his uncle, a poor fisherman with an angry temper, where he fared very hardly; for there were many mouths to feed, and the worst fell to the least akin. But he grew up handy and active, with strong limbs and a sure head; and he was well worth his victual, for he was a good fisherman, patient of wind and rain; and he could scale the cliff in places where none other dared go, and bring down the eggs and feathers of the sea-birds. So they had much use of him, and gave him but little love in return. When he was free of work, the boy loved to wander alone, and he would lie on the heather in the warm sun, with his face to the ground, drinking in the fragrant breath of the earth, and praying earnestly in his heart to the Lord, who had made the earth so fair and the sea so terrible. When he came to man's estate, he had thoughts