Billy Budd, Bartleby, and Other Stories by Herman Melville

Author:Herman Melville
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2016-03-25T11:36:05+00:00

SKETCH THIRD

ROCK RODONDO

“Forthy this hight the Rock of vile Reproach,

A dangerous and dreadful place,

To which nor fish nor fowl did once approach,

But yelling meaws with sea-gulls hoars and bace

And cormoyrants with birds of ravenous race,

Which still sit waiting on that dreadful clift.”

“With that the rolling sea resounding soft

In his big base them fitly answered,

And on the Rock, the waves breaking aloft,

A solemn meane unto them measured.”

“Then he the boteman bad row easily,

And let him heare some part of that rare melody.”

“Suddeinly an innumerable flight

Of harmefull fowles about them fluttering cride,

And with their wicked wings them oft did smight

And sore annoyed, groping in that griesly night.”

“Even all the nation of unfortunate

And fatal birds about them flocked were.”5

To go up into a high stone tower is not only a very fine thing in itself, but the very best mode of gaining a comprehensive view of the region round about. It is all the better if this tower stand solitary and alone, like that mysterious Newport one,6 or else be sole survivor of some perished castle.

Now, with reference to the Enchanted Isles, we are fortunately supplied with just such a noble point of observation in a remarkable rock, from its peculiar figure called of old by the Spaniards, Rock Rodondo, or Round Rock. Some two hundred and fifty feet high, rising straight from the sea ten miles from land, with the whole mountainous group to the south and east, Rock Rodondo occupies, on a large scale, very much the position which the famous Campanile or detached Bell Tower of St. Mark does with respect to the tangled group of hoary edifices around it.

Ere ascending, however, to gaze abroad upon the Encantadas, this sea-tower itself claims attention. It is visible at the distance of thirty miles; and, fully participating in that enchantment which pervades the group, when first seen afar invariably is mistaken for a sail. Four leagues away, of a golden, hazy noon, it seems some Spanish Admiral’s ship, stacked up with glittering canvas. Sail ho! Sail ho! Sail ho! from all three masts. But coming nigh, the enchanted frigate is transformed apace into a craggy keep.

My first visit to the spot was made in the gray of the morning. With a view of fishing, we had lowered three boats, and pulling some two miles from our vessel, found ourselves just before dawn of day close under the moon-shadow of Rodondo. Its aspect was heightened, and yet softened, by the strange double twilight of the hour. The great full moon burnt in the low west like a half-spent beacon, casting a soft mellow tinge upon the sea like that cast by a waning fire of embers upon a midnight hearth; while along the entire east the invisible sun sent pallid intimations of his coming. The wind was light; the waves languid; the stars twinkled with a faint effulgence; all nature seemed supine with the long night watch, and half-suspended in jaded expectation of the sun. This was the critical hour to catch Rodondo in his perfect mood.

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