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In
spite
of
the
inordinate
fatigue
I
was
beginning
to
feel
,
I
was
excited
now
,
and
for
a
time
hopeful
,
in
a
feverish
,
impatient
way
,
that
so
my
travelling
might
end
.
But
at
last
I
ceased
to
move
about
,
and
sat
,
wrists
on
knees
,
staring
at
a
distant
red
light
.
It
swayed
up
and
down
,
rocking
,
rocking
.
My
excitement
passed
.
I
realised
I
had
yet
to
spend
another
night
at
least
in
the
sphere
.
I
perceived
myself
infinitely
heavy
and
fatigued
.
And
so
I
fell
asleep
.
A
change
in
my
rhythmic
motion
awakened
me
.
I
peered
through
the
refracting
glass
,
and
saw
that
I
had
come
aground
upon
a
huge
shallow
of
sand
.
Far
away
I
seemed
to
see
houses
and
trees
,
and
seaward
a
curved
,
vague
distortion
of
a
ship
hung
between
sea
and
sky
.
I
stood
up
and
staggered
.
My
one
desire
was
to
emerge
.
The
manhole
was
upward
,
and
I
wrestled
with
the
screw
.
Slowly
I
opened
the
manhole
.
At
last
the
air
was
singing
in
again
as
once
it
had
sung
out
.
But
this
time
I
did
not
wait
until
the
pressure
was
adjusted
.
In
another
moment
I
had
the
weight
of
the
window
on
my
hands
,
and
I
was
open
,
wide
open
,
to
the
old
familiar
sky
of
earth
.
The
air
hit
me
on
the
chest
so
that
I
gasped
.
I
dropped
the
glass
screw
.
I
cried
out
,
put
my
hands
to
my
chest
,
and
sat
down
.
For
a
time
I
was
in
pain
.
Then
I
took
deep
breaths
.
At
last
I
could
rise
and
move
about
again
.
I
tried
to
thrust
my
head
through
the
manhole
,
and
the
sphere
rolled
over
.
It
was
as
though
something
had
lugged
my
head
down
directly
it
emerged
.
I
ducked
back
sharply
,
or
I
should
have
been
pinned
face
under
water
.
After
some
wriggling
and
shoving
I
managed
to
crawl
out
upon
sand
,
over
which
the
retreating
waves
still
came
and
went
.
I
did
not
attempt
to
stand
up
.
It
seemed
to
me
that
my
body
must
be
suddenly
changed
to
lead
.
Mother
Earth
had
her
grip
on
me
now
--
no
Cavorite
intervening
.
I
sat
down
heedless
of
the
water
that
came
over
my
feet
.
It
was
dawn
,
a
grey
dawn
,
rather
overcast
but
showing
here
and
there
a
long
patch
of
greenish
grey
.
Some
way
out
a
ship
was
lying
at
anchor
,
a
pale
silhouette
of
a
ship
with
one
yellow
light
.
The
water
came
rippling
in
in
long
shallow
waves
.
Away
to
the
right
curved
the
land
,
a
shingle
bank
with
little
hovels
,
and
at
last
a
lighthouse
,
a
sailing
mark
and
a
point
.
Inland
stretched
a
space
of
level
sand
,
broken
here
and
there
by
pools
of
water
,
and
ending
a
mile
away
perhaps
in
a
low
shore
of
scrub
.
To
the
north-east
some
isolated
watering-place
was
visible
,
a
row
of
gaunt
lodging-houses
,
the
tallest
things
that
I
could
see
on
earth
,
dull
dabs
against
the
brightening
sky
.
What
strange
men
can
have
reared
these
vertical
piles
in
such
an
amplitude
of
space
I
do
not
know
.
There
they
are
,
like
pieces
of
Brighton
lost
in
the
waste
.
For
a
long
time
I
sat
there
,
yawning
and
rubbing
my
face
.
At
last
I
struggled
to
rise
.
It
made
me
feel
that
I
was
lifting
a
weight
.
I
stood
up
.
