Algernon Blackwood Read Online Free PDF Page A

experience, I argued—none
the less real for that, but still subjective. The moonlight and the
branches combined to work out these pictures upon the mirror of my
imagination, and for some reason I projected them outwards and made them
appear objective. I knew this must be the case, of course. I took courage,
and began to move forward across the open patches of sand. By Jove, though,
was it all hallucination? Was it merely subjective? Did not my reason argue
in the old futile way from the little standard of the known?
    I only know that great column of figures ascended darkly into the sky for
what seemed a very long period of time, and with a very complete measure of
reality as most men are accustomed to gauge reality. Then suddenly they
were gone!
    And, once they were gone and the immediate wonder of their great presence
had passed, fear came down upon me with a cold rush. The esoteric meaning
of this lonely and haunted region suddenly flamed up within me, and I began
to tremble dreadfully. I took a quick look round—a look of horror that
came near to panic—calculating vainly ways of escape; and then, realizing
how helpless I was to achieve anything really effective, I crept back
silently into the tent and lay down again upon my sandy mattress, first
lowering the door-curtain to shut out the sight of the willows in the
moonlight, and then burying my head as deeply as possible beneath the
blankets to deaden the sound of the terrifying wind.
    As though further to convince me that I had not been dreaming, I remember
that it was a long time before I fell again into a troubled and restless
sleep; and even then only the upper crust of me slept, and underneath there
was something that never quite lost consciousness, but lay alert and on the
watch.
    But this second time I jumped up with a genuine start of terror. It was
neither the wind nor the river that woke me, but the slow approach of
something that caused the sleeping portion of me to grow smaller and
smaller till at last it vanished altogether, and I found myself sitting
bolt upright—listening.
    Outside there was a sound of multitudinous little patterings. They had been
coming, I was aware, for a long time, and in my sleep they had first become
audible. I sat there nervously wide awake as though I had not slept at all.
It seemed to me that my breathing came with difficulty, and that there was
a great weight upon the surface of my body. In spite of the hot night, I
felt clammy with cold and shivered. Something surely was pressing steadily
against the sides of the tent and weighing down upon it from above. Was it
the body of the wind? Was this the pattering rain, the dripping of the
leaves? The spray blown from the river by the wind and gathering in big
drops? I thought quickly of a dozen things.
    Then suddenly the explanation leaped into my mind: a bough from the poplar,
the only large tree on the island, had fallen with the wind. Still half
caught by the other branches, it would fall with the next gust and crush
us, and meanwhile its leaves brushed and tapped upon the tight canvas
surface of the tent. I raised a loose flap and rushed out, calling to the
Swede to follow.
    But when I got out and stood upright I saw that the tent was free. There
was no hanging bough; there was no rain or spray; nothing approached.
    A cold, grey light filtered down through the bushes and lay on the faintly
gleaming sand. Stars still crowded the sky directly overhead, and the wind
howled magnificently, but the fire no longer gave out any glow, and I saw
the east reddening in streaks through the trees. Several hours must have
passed since I stood there before watching the ascending figures, and the
memory of it now came back to me horribly, like an evil dream. Oh, how
tired it made me feel, that ceaseless raging wind! Yet, though the deep
lassitude of a sleepless night was on me, my nerves were tingling with the
activity of an equally tireless apprehension, and all idea of repose was
out of the