- description
- # Section III.
## Overview
This section, labeled "III.", is a textual component extracted from the digital file [pierre.txt](arke:01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A). It spans lines 15723 to 15801 of the source file and is part of the larger [Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW) collection.
## Context
"III." is situated within [BOOK XXVI. A WALK: A FOREIGN PORTRAIT: A SAIL: AND THE END.](arke:01KG8AJV19W1VB1DSZZ5CS6M4R), a chapter from Herman Melville's novel *Pierre; or, The Ambiguities*. It follows [Section II.](arke:01KG8AKHN2WX64FDGXMWFGVT5P) and precedes [Section IV.](arke:01KG8AKJAB2S75Y7CQ5TWKRXE6) within this chapter.
## Contents
The section describes a boat journey across a bay, where the characters Pierre, Isabel, and Lucy are present. Isabel experiences a strong, almost convulsive reaction to the motion of the waves, which Pierre connects to her past "vague reminiscence of the teetering sea." Upon reaching their destination, a small hamlet, Isabel expresses a frantic desire to continue "out there! where the two blues meet, and are nothing," interpreted by Lucy as a wish to go to "far England or France." Her companions restrain her from plunging into the water, and they ultimately decide to return on the same boat. The narrative concludes with Pierre hurrying his companions through the streets upon their return to shore.
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- description_title
- Section III.
- end_line
- 15801
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- 15723
- text
- III.
In the midst of all these mental confusions they arrived at the wharf;
and selecting the most inviting of the various boats which lay about
them in three or four adjacent ferry-slips, and one which was bound for
a half-hour's sail across the wide beauty of that glorious bay; they
soon found themselves afloat and in swift gliding motion.
They stood leaning on the rail of the guard, as the sharp craft darted
out from among the lofty pine-forests of ships'-masts, and the tangled
underbrush and cane-brakes of the dwarfed sticks of sloops and scows.
Soon, the spires of stone on the land, blent with the masts of wood on
the water; the crotch of the twin-rivers pressed the great wedged city
almost out of sight. They swept by two little islets distant from the
shore; they wholly curved away from the domes of free-stone and marble,
and gained the great sublime dome of the bay's wide-open waters.
Small breeze had been felt in the pent city that day, but the fair
breeze of naked nature now blew in their faces. The waves began to
gather and roll; and just as they gained a point, where--still
beyond--between high promontories of fortresses, the wide bay visibly
sluiced into the Atlantic, Isabel convulsively grasped the arm of Pierre
and convulsively spoke.
"I feel it! I feel it! It is! It is!"
"What feelest thou?--what is it?"
"The motion! the motion!"
"Dost thou not understand, Pierre?" said Lucy, eying with concern and
wonder his pale, staring aspect--"The waves: it is the motion of the
waves that Isabel speaks of. Look, they are rolling, direct from the sea
now."
Again Pierre lapsed into a still stranger silence and revery.
It was impossible altogether to resist the force of this striking
corroboration of by far the most surprising and improbable thing in the
whole surprising and improbable story of Isabel. Well did he remember
her vague reminiscence of the teetering sea, that did not slope exactly
as the floors of the unknown, abandoned, old house among the French-like
mountains.
While plunged in these mutually neutralizing thoughts of the strange
picture and the last exclamations of Isabel, the boat arrived at its
destination--a little hamlet on the beach, not very far from the great
blue sluice-way into the ocean, which was now yet more distinctly
visible than before.
"Don't let us stop here"--cried Isabel. "Look, let us go through there!
Bell must go through there! See! see! out there upon the blue! yonder,
yonder! far away--out, out!--far, far away, and away, and away, out
there! where the two blues meet, and are nothing--Bell must go!"
"Why, Isabel," murmured Lucy, "that would be to go to far England or
France; thou wouldst find but few friends in far France, Isabel."
"Friends in far France? And what friends have I here?--Art thou my
friend? In thy secret heart dost thou wish me well? And for thee,
Pierre, what am I but a vile clog to thee; dragging thee back from all
thy felicity? Yes, I will go yonder--yonder; out there! I will, I will!
Unhand me! Let me plunge!"
For an instant, Lucy looked incoherently from one to the other. But both
she and Pierre now mechanically again seized Isabel's frantic arms, as
they were again thrown over the outer rail of the boat. They dragged her
back; they spoke to her; they soothed her; but though less vehement,
Isabel still looked deeply distrustfully at Lucy, and deeply
reproachfully at Pierre.
They did not leave the boat as intended; too glad were they all, when it
unloosed from its fastenings, and turned about upon the backward trip.
Stepping to shore, Pierre once more hurried his companions through the
unavoidable publicity of the thoroughfares; but less rapidly proceeded,
soon as they gained the more secluded streets.
- title
- III.