The Voyage of Captain Popanilla | Page 2

the cool air.
The twilight in this island is not that transient moment of unearthly
bliss, which, in our less favoured regions, always leaves us so
thoughtful and so sad; on the contrary, it lasts many hours, and
consequently the Islanders are neither moody nor sorrowful. As they

sleep during the day, four or five hours of 'tipsy dance and revelry' are
exercise and not fatigue. At length, even in this delightful region, the
rosy tint fades into purple, and the purple into blue; the white moon
gleams, and at length glitters; and the invisible stars first creep into
light, and then blaze into radiancy. But no hateful dews discolour their
loveliness! and so clear is the air, that instead of the false appearance of
a studded vault, the celestial bodies may be seen floating in aether, at
various distances and of various tints. Ere the showery fire-flies have
ceased to shine, and the blue lights to play about the tremulous horizon,
amid the voices of a thousand birds, the dancers solace themselves with
the rarest fruits, the most delicate fish, and the most delicious wines;
but flesh they love not. They are an innocent and a happy, though a
voluptuous and ignorant race. They have no manufactures, no
commerce, no agriculture, and no printing-presses; but for their slight
clothing they wear the bright skins of serpents; for corn, Nature gives
them the bread-fruit; and for intellectual amusement, they have a
pregnant fancy and a ready wit; tell inexhaustible stories, and always
laugh at each other's jokes. A natural instinct gave them the art of
making wine; and it was the same benevolent Nature that blessed them
also with the knowledge of the art of making love. But time flies even
here. The lovely companions have danced, and sung, and banqueted,
and laughed; what further bliss remains for man? They rise, and in pairs
wander about the island, and then to their bowers; their life ends with
the Night they love so well; and ere Day, the everlasting conqueror,
wave his flaming standard in the luminous East, solitude and silence
will again reign in the ISLE OF FANTAISIE.

CHAPTER 2
The last and loudest chorus had died away, and the Islanders were
pouring forth their libation to their great enemy the Sun, when suddenly
a vast obscurity spread over the glowing West. They looked at each
other, and turned pale, and the wine from their trembling goblets fell
useless on the shore. The women were too frightened to scream, and,
for the first time in the Isle of Fantaisie, silence existed after sunset.
They were encouraged when they observed that the darkness ceased at

that point in the heavens which overlooked their coral rocks; and
perceiving that their hitherto unsullied sky was pure, even at this
moment of otherwise universal gloom, the men regained their colour,
touched the goblets with their lips, further to reanimate themselves, and
the women, now less discomposed, uttered loud shrieks.
Suddenly the wind roared with unaccustomed rage, the sea rose into
large billows, and a ship was seen tossing in the offing. The Islanders,
whose experience of navigation extended only to a slight paddling in
their lagoon, in the half of a hollow trunk of a tree, for the purpose of
fishing, mistook the tight little frigate for a great fish; and being now
aware of the cause of this disturbance, and at the same time feeling
confident that the monster could never make way through the shallow
waters to the island, they recovered their courage, and gazed upon the
labouring leviathan with the same interested nonchalance with which
students at a modern lecture observe an expounding philosopher.
'What a shadow he casts over the sky!' said the King, a young man,
whose divine right was never questioned by his female subjects. 'What
a commotion in the waters, and what a wind he snorts forth! It certainly
must be the largest fish that exists. I remember my father telling me
that a monstrous fish once got entangled among our rocks, and this part
of the island really smelt for a month; I cannot help fancying that there
is a rather odd smell now; pah!'
A favourite Queen flew to the suffering monarch, and pressing her
aromatic lips upon his offended nostrils, his Majesty recovered.
The unhappy crew of the frigate, who, with the aid of their telescopes,
had detected the crowds upon the shore, now fired their signal guns of
distress, which came sullenly booming through the wind.
'Oh! the great fish is speaking!' was the universal exclamation.
'I begin to get frightened,' said the favourite Queen. 'I am sure the
monster is coming here!' So saying, her Majesty grasped up a handful
of pearls from the shore, to defend herself.

As screaming was now the fashion,