spirit was put in awe by the extreme silence of all the country around;
for in all that waste I could see no living thing, neither bird nor
vegetable, save it be the stunted trees, which, indeed, grew in clumps
here and there over all the land, so much as I could see.

This silence, when I grew fully aware of it was the more uncanny; for my
memory told me that never before had I come upon a country which
contained so much quietness. Nothing moved across my vision--not even a
lone bird soared up against the dull sky; and, for my hearing, not so
much as the cry of a sea-bird came to me--no! nor the croak of a frog,
nor the plash of a fish. It was as though we had come upon the Country of
Silence, which some have called the Land of Lonesomeness.

Now three hours had passed whilst we ceased not to labor at the oars, and
we could no more see the sea; yet no place fit for our feet had come to
view, for everywhere the mud, grey and black, surrounded us--encompassing
us veritably by a slimy wilderness. And so we were fain to pull on, in
the hope that we might come ultimately to firm ground.

Then, a little before sundown, we halted upon our oars, and made a scant
meal from a portion of our remaining provisions; and as we ate, I could
see the sun sinking away over the wastes, and I had some slight diversion
in watching the grotesque shadows which it cast from the trees into the
water upon our larboard side; for we had come to a pause opposite a clump
of the vegetation. It was at this time, as I remember, that it was borne
in upon me afresh how very silent was the land; and that this was not due
to my imagination, I remarked that the men both in our own and in the
bo'sun's boat, seemed uneasy because of it; for none spoke save in
undertones, as though they had fear of breaking it.