The Call of the Blood

Delarey stole along the beach, walking lightly despite his fatigue. He

felt curiously excited, as if he were on the heels of some adventure. He

passed the Caffè Berardi almost like a thief in the night, and came to

the narrow strip of pebbles that edged the still and lakelike water,

protected by the sirens' isle. There he paused. He meant to gain that

lonely land, but how? By the water lay two or three boats, but they were

large and clumsy, impossible to move without aid. Should he climb up to

the Messina road, traverse the spit of ground that led to the rocky wall,

and try to make his way across it? The feat would be a difficult one, he

thought. But it was not that which deterred him. He was impatient of

delay, and the détour would take time. Between him and the islet was the

waterway. Already he had been in the sea. Why not go in again? He

stripped, packed his clothes into a bundle, tied roughly with a rope made

of his handkerchief and bootlaces, and waded in. For a long way the water

was shallow. Only when he was near to the island did it rise to his

breast, to his throat, higher at last. Holding the bundle on his head

with one hand, he struck out strongly and soon touched bottom again. He

scrambled out, dressed on a flat rock, then looked for a path leading

upward.

The ground was very steep, almost precipitous, and thickly covered with

trees and with undergrowth. This undergrowth concealed innumerable rocks

and stones which shifted under his feet and rolled down as he began to

ascend, grasping the bushes and the branches. He could find no path.

What did it matter? All sense of fatigue had left him. With the activity

of a cat he mounted. A tree struck him across the face. Another swept off

his hat. He felt that he had antagonists who wished to beat him back to

the sea, and his blood rose against them. He tore down a branch that

impeded him, broke it with his strong hands, and flung it away viciously.

His teeth were set and his nerves tingled, and he was conscious of the

almost angry joy of keen bodily exertion. The body--that was his God

to-night. How he loved it, its health and strength, its willingness, its

capacities! How he gloried in it! It had bounded down the mountain. It

had gone into the sea and revelled there. It had fished and swum. Now it

mounted upward to discovery, defying the weapons that nature launched

against it. Splendid, splendid body!