“What are you looking at, Caradoc?” laughed the American.
“I say, Madden, just look at that sun, will you? I thought I saw a little black fleck against it straightaway to the east right down on the horizon.”
“You're injuring your sight, that's all,” the American was still smiling. “You know black specks will dance before your eyes if you stare at the sun too long.”
“But this was shaped like a sail,” persisted Smith, staring again.
“Illusion,” diagnosed Madden promptly, but his eyes followed Caradoc's eastward nevertheless.
As far as his sight could reach up the golden path, he saw the black markings of seaweed; then his vision became lost in a mist of illumination. However, in this region, he could distinguish things dimly and in flashes.
Presently, in one of these clear instants, he saw flashed, like the single film of a moving picture, the tiny black silhouette of a ship's sail against the dazzling east. Next moment it was lost in light.
