chater ixteen the very end f the wrld (第3/21页)
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r that for many days，without wind in her shrouds or foam at her bows，across a waveless sea，the Dawn Treader glided smoothly east．Every day and every hour the light became more brilliant and still they could bear it．No one ate or slept and no one wanted to，but they drew buckets of dazzling water from the sea，stronger than wine and somehow wetter，more liquid，than ordinary water，and pledged one another silently in deep draughts of it．And one or two of the sailors who had been oldish men when the voyage began now grew younger every day．Everyone on board was filled with joy and excitement，but not an excitement that made one talk．The further they sailed the less they spoke， and then almost in a whisper．The stillness of that last sea laid hold on them．
“My Lord，”said Caspian to Drinian one day，“what do you see ahead ？”
“Sire，”said Drinian，“I see whiteness．All along the horizon from north to south，as far as my eyes can reach．”
“That is what I see too，”said Caspian，“and I c
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