The wind had changed during the night, and in the morning the Blue Heron was becalmed, lying in the trough of the sea. There was not the slightest whisper of wind, not the faintest breath of air to move the sails, which hung limply from the yards. The sun was fierce and merciless, and the crew sat about in the shadow of the forecastle, listless and silent, the perspiration streaming upon their faces and their eyes fixed moodily on the empty seas.

At the tiller stood Arcanzola, who, without moving, stared out at the hot and brilliant seas like a graven image. Her face and body gleamed with perspiration, and her long hair was as limp and listless as the sails. Suddenly her body tautened as a bowstring and she stared intently out toward the sea.

The crew on the deck had all sunk into a drowsy silence, but they saw her tense, and they heard her murmur a few words. They turned and followed her look. They had no idea what it was. All they could see was a strange, sinuous shadow in the water, like an arm of sea mist, that seemed to be advancing in the direction of the ship.

The strange shadow in the water was moving very slowly, and it was like to something alive, moving on purpose and with intelligence. Some of the crew gave vent to exclamations-not of alarm, for as yet they did not understand what it was they saw, but of amazement and curiosity.

Arcanzola was the first to know the danger. When she saw the shadow, she knew what it was and that it was drawing near, and with a sudden cry she turned and called out, “Leviathan!”

Even as she spoke, she leaped from the tiller to the deck and looked up to the rigging, as if to call for help. The crew on deck had been staring at the strange appearance on the sea with uncomprehending wonder, but they started in alarm when they heard her cry, and then they saw her gesture.

All on the ship were aroused in an instant; everyone was calling out: “Leviathan!” and “A monster!” At the same instant, the men began to run toward their arms and their ammunition.