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Rh those on board of her would gather at the mast, with their censers, to sing their vespers, at the first rising of the evening star.

At night, when the moon was up, some of the mariners, coming from the mysterious darkness in the bows, would light the lantern on the poop, a lantern shaped like a rose. The glass of it was stained crimson, so that when lit it burned like a red rose through the darkness, a sight passing a rose in beauty. All of these amorous subtleties, all of this extravagance of beauty, was for the Lady Alathe of Ayamonte, the woman whom Lord Alva loved. He had courted her during the months while the ship was being fitted for the sea; for he had vowed to bring his bride home to Meroquinez, by water, in a ship fitting her birth. When the Spanish Rose was ready, her crew on board, her bows blessed by the priests, she sailed out from Boca Gara to a noise of singing that mingled with the bells of St. Mary's Church. She reached Ayamonte after three weeks' sailing along the coast, anchoring one sunny afternoon beneath the blossomed orange groves which scent the houses of the port. He was married the next day at the