The Glow Spreads West 43 



for it has a face, with a sharp, keen nose, and two great lozenge eyes 

 painted on either side of the prow — has a somewhat frowning and 

 most determined expression. As the prow dips into the blue waters, 

 the bow waves separate like tapering white mustachios, and every 

 now and then the sea rises to the pupils of these eyes, so that the 

 face appears to leer over the waves. 



Upon the upturned point of the prow flutters a long pennant in 

 the form of a silvery fish, and upon the lower stern post a small 

 carved bull's head stares through blank white eyes at the scurrying 

 wake. There are two tall masts braced to the low rails by a multi- 

 tude of thin white cordage, and two enormous pale-blue sails of 

 quite indescribable shape but pointed sharply to the sky balloon far 

 out over the water to the leeside. The whole vessel is canted at a 

 crazy angle upon her seaward tack. 



Aboard the boat seven sun-tanned men with mops of jet-black, 

 wavy hair, immense shoulders, and strangely narrow waists crowd 

 the windward rail, cHnging to the shrouds and Uterally riding the 

 waves as the vessel rises and falls over the bounding waters. They 

 wear tightly fitting trunks of many colors and most complex pat- 

 terns, with lines of stars and twisted whorls, and floral designs woven 

 into crosslines of bright shades upon a dark ground. They also wear 

 metal bracelets at their wrists and above their elbows, and large 

 rings in one ear lobe. Their features are keen, their faces narrow, 

 and their noses straight and slender. As they ride along they chant 

 softly to the breezes and scan the glittering sea with their dark 

 eyes. And so the hours pass while the wind stiffens. 



Then suddenly, as one man, they leap to the rail top and balance 

 precariously with their bare feet upon its slim edge, shading their 

 eyes with their hands from the glare of the sun. They chatter ex- 

 citedly while one drops to the bottom of the boat and draws the 

 bung from a large earthenware amphora. Taking a tarnished silver 

 cup from a place of safekeeping under the gunwale, he fills it with 

 red wine, holding the amphora under his arm and bracing his knees 

 against the gunwale. Then, as he reels back to the rail, carefully 

 balancing the cup, the others drop back into the boat and, forming 

 a rough circle, close their eyes and place their right hands over their 

 faces. The bearer of the wine raises his voice in a loud chant and 

 intones certain holy and mystic words. Then, placing a white cloth 



