The Hot Swamp - Robert Michael Ballantyne (debian ebook reader TXT) 📗

it fast with rudder-bands. As the stern of the _Penelope_ was formed like the bow, a sharp cut-water was by this means instantly presented to the sea, thus avoiding the necessity and danger incurred by modern ships, in similar circumstances, of anchoring by the head and swinging round.

The hungry waves hissed tumultuously on, but were cleft and passed under the ship disappointed, for there was still enough of water beneath to permit of her tossing to and fro and rising to them like a duck, as she strained and tugged at the anchors.

Just as these operations had been performed, the mists of darkness seemed to lift a little and revealed a wild rocky line of coast, against which the waves were breaking madly.

"Now all hope is over; pray to your gods, men," said the mate, whose courage was not quite equal to his position.

"There are no gods!" growled the captain bitterly, for he saw that he was now a ruined man, even though he should escape with life.

"There is _one_ God," said Bladud quietly, "and He does all things well."

As he spoke, the captain, whose eyes had not ceased to look searchingly along the coast, observed something like a bay a short way to the left of the place where they lay.

"It looks like a sandy bay," he said.

"It _is_ a sandy bay," exclaimed the anxious mate; "let us up anchors and run into it."

"Have an easy mind and keep your advice till asked for," returned the captain with a look of scorn. "If we are destined to escape, we _shall_ escape without making haste. If we are doomed to die, nothing can save us, and it is more manly to die in a leisurely way than in a hurry. When we can see clearly we shall know better how to act."

Although this manner of submitting to the inevitable did not quite suit the mate, he felt constrained to repress his impatience, while the coolness of the captain had a quieting effect on some of the men who were inclined to give way to panic. The sight of Bladud--as he sat there leaning on the hilt of his sword with an expression of what appeared to be serene contentment--had also a quieting effect on the men.

When the increasing light showed that the sandy bay was a spot that might possibly be reached in safety, orders were given to cut the cables, loose the rudder-bands and hoist the sail. For a few minutes the vessel ran swiftly towards the bay, but before reaching the shore she struck with violence. The fore part of the _Penelope_ stuck fast immovably, and then, at last, the ravenous waves attained their longed-for meal. They burst over the stern, swept the decks, tore up the fastenings, revelled among the tackling and began tumultuously to break up the ship.

"Launch the skiff," shouted the captain, hastening to lend a hand in the operation.

The men were not slow to obey, and when it touched the water they swarmed into it, so that, being overloaded, it upset and left its occupants struggling in the water. A number of the men who could swim, immediately jumped overboard and tried to right the skiff, but they failed, and, in the effort to do so, broke the rope that held it. Some clung to it. Others turned and swam for the shore.

A good many of the men, however, still remained in the wreck, which was fast breaking up. To these the captain turned.

"Now, men," he said, "those of you who can swim would do well to take to the water at once, for it is clear that we shall not have a plank left to stand on soon. Come, mate, show them an example."

The man, though not very courageous, as his pale face betrayed, happened to be a good swimmer, and at once leaped into the sea. He was followed by all who could swim. Those who could not, were encouraged to make the attempt with planks and oars to aid them. As for Bladud, he busied himself like the captain in giving heart to the non-swimmers and showing them how best to use their floats.

The last of the men to leave was little Maikar.

He stood at the bow with his arms crossed on his chest and a look of melancholy interest on his countenance.

"What! not gone yet?" exclaimed the captain, turning to him.

"I cannot swim," said the man.

"But neither can these," returned the captain, pointing to the men who had left last.

"My father used to say," rejoined Maikar, as if murmuring to himself, "that I was born to be drowned, and I'm inclined to think he was right."

"Surely you are not afraid," said Arkal.

"Afraid!" exclaimed Maikar, with a sarcastic laugh. "No, captain, but I'm sorry to part with you, because you've been a good captain to me."

"An' I bear no ill-will to you, Bladud, though you _did_ squeeze most of the life out of me once. Farewell, both."

As he spoke the little man seized an oar, leaped overboard, and, after some trouble in steadying himself and pointing the oar in the right direction, struck out for the shore.

It was a long way off, and often, while this scene was being enacted, was heard the bubbling cry of men whose powers were failing them. Some were carried by currents against a point to the westward and, apparently, dashed against the rocks. Others sank before half the distance had been traversed.

Bladud and the captain looked at each other when Maikar had left them.

"Can you swim?" asked the captain. "Like a duck," returned the prince, "and I can help you if required."

"I swim like a fish," returned the captain, "but it is hard to part from my _Penelope_! She has never failed me till now, and as this venture contains all my goods, I am a ruined man."

"But your life still remains," said the prince. "Be of good cheer, captain. A stout man can make his fortune more than once. Come, let us go."

A loud cry from Maikar at that moment hastened their deliberations.

"Are you going to cumber yourself with your weapons?" asked Arkal, as they were about to spring from the side, observing that his friend took up his sword and shield.

"Ay--that am I. It is not a small matter that will part my good sword and me."

Both men sprang overboard at the same moment, and made for the spot where little Maikar was still giving vent to bubbling yells and struggling with his oar.

Bladud was soon alongside of him, and, seizing his hair, raised him out of the water.

"Got the cramp," he shouted.

"Keep still, then, and do what I tell ye," said the prince, in a tone of stern command.

He caught the poor man under the armpits with both hands, turned on his back and drew him on to his chest. Swimming thus on his back, with Captain Arkal leading so as to keep them in the right direction, the three were ultimately cast, in a rather exhausted condition, on the shore of the little bay.


CHAPTER FIVE.


AFTER THE WRECK.

It was on the southern shore of what is now known as France that our hero and his comrades in misfortune were cast.

At the time we write of, we need hardly say, the land was nameless. Even her old Roman name of Gaul had not yet been given to her, for Rome itself had not been founded. The fair land was a vast wilderness, known only--and but slightly--to the adventurous mariners of the east, who, with the spirit of Columbus, had pushed their discoveries and trade far beyond the Pillars of Hercules.

Of course the land was a vast solitude, inhabited, sparsely, by a few of those wandering tribes which had been driven westward--by conquest or by that desire for adventure which has characterised the human race, we suppose, ever since Adam and Eve began to explore the regions beyond Eden. Like the great wilderness lying to the north of Canada at the present time, it was also the home of innumerable wild animals which afforded to its uncivilised inhabitants both food and clothing.

Captain Arkal was the only one of the three survivors of the wreck who had seen that coast before or knew anything about it, for, when Bladud had entered the Mediterranean many years before, he had passed too far to the southward to see the northern land.

As they staggered up the beach to a place where the thundering waves sent only their spray, Bladud looked round with some anxiety.

"Surely," he said, "some of the crew must have escaped. It can hardly be that we three are the only survivors out of so many."

The party halted and looked back at the seething waves from which they had just escaped.

"It would be foul shame to us," said the captain, "if we did not try to lend a helping hand to our comrades; but we shall find none of them here. I observed when they started that, in spite of my warning, they made straight for the land, instead of keeping well to windward to avoid being swept round that point of rock to the west. I led you in the right direction, and that is why we alone are here. If any of the others have been saved, they must be on the other side of that point."

While he was speaking, the captain had hurried into the woods, intending to cross the neck of land which separated them from the bay beyond the point referred to.

Their strength returned as they ran, for their intense desire to render aid to those of their late comrades who might stand in need of it seemed to serve them in the stead of rest.

"Come, quick!" cried little Maikar, whose catlike activity and strength enabled him to outrun his more bulky companions. "We may be too late; and some of them can't swim--I know."

They reached the crest of a ridge a few minutes later, and, halting, looked at each other in dismay, for the bay beyond the point was full of great rocks and boulders, among which the waves rushed with such fury that they spouted in jets into the air, and covered the sea with foam.

"No living soul can have landed there," said the captain, in a tone that showed clearly he had given up all hope.

"But some may have been swept round the next point," suggested Maikar eagerly, commencing to run forward as he spoke.

Bladud followed at once, and so did the captain, but it was evident that he regarded any further effort as useless.

It proved a longer and more toilsome march than they had expected to pass beyond the second point, and when at last it was reached, there was not a speck at all resembling a human being to be seen on the coast, in all its length of many miles.

"No hope," murmured Bladud.

"None," returned the captain.

Little Maikar did not speak, but the expression of his countenance showed that he was of the same opinion.

"Now," resumed the captain, after a brief silence, "if we would not starve we