yet instead of rising to an earsplitting pitch , an invincible warriors battle cry , the whistling had suddenly changed , becoming not shrill but mellow , musical almost , a seagull calling its young or its mate so that the sharpness of its cawing is transformed by the sweetness of longing and love and then despite the hands blocking out sound they all heard it land , even though it struck the sand as softly as a ripe fig falling on grass .