Chapter XVII
A Night in the Deep
Once fairly out again into the harbour, I saw two things that were butlittle to my satisfaction. Far away up the river were three morecanoes. I understood at once that the savages whom we had just worstedwere the mere vanguard of the Black Abbe's attack. The new-comers,however, were so far behind that I had excellent hopes of eluding them.The second matter that gave me concern was the strong head-wind thathad suddenly arisen. The look of the sky seemed to promise, moreover,that what was now a mere blow might soon become a gale. It was alreadykicking up a sea that hindered us. Most women would have beenterrified at it, but Mizpah seemed to have no thought of fear. Wepressed on doggedly. There was danger ahead, I knew,--a very seriousdanger, which would tax all my skill to overcome. But the dangerbehind us was the more menacing. I felt that there was nothing for itbut to face the storm and force a passage around the cape. Thisaccomplished,--if we could accomplish it,--I knew our pursuers wouldnot dare to follow.
About sundown, though the enemy had drawn perceptibly nearer, Iconcluded that we must rest and gather our strength. I therefore ranin behind a little headland, the last shelter we could hope for untilwe should get around the cape. There we ate a hearty meal, drank froma tiny spring, and lay stretched flat on the shore for a quarter of anhour. Then, after an apprehensive look at the angry sea, and a prayerthat was earnest enough to make up for some scantness in length, Icried:--
"Come now, comrade, and be brave."
"I am not afraid, Monsieur," she answered quietly. "If anythinghappens, I know it will not be because you have failed in anything thatthe bravest and truest of men could hope to do."
"I think that God will help us," said I. That some one greater thanourselves does sometimes help us in such perils, I know, whatevercertain hasty men who speak out of a plentiful lack of experience maydeclare to the contrary. But whether this help be a directintervention of God himself, or the succour of the blessed saints, orthe watchful care of one's guardian spirit, I have never been able toconclude to my own satisfaction. And very much thought have I given tothe matter by times, lying out much under the stars night after night,and carrying day by day my life in my hands. However it might be, Ifelt sustained and comforted as we put out that night. The storm wasnow so wild that it would have been perilous to face in broad daylightand with a strong man at the bow paddle. Yet I believed that we shouldwin through. I felt that my strength, my skill, my sureness ofjudgment, were of a sudden made greater than I could commonly accountthem.
But whatever strength may have been graciously vouchsafed to me thatnight, I found that I needed it all. The night fell not darkly, butwith a clear sky, and the light of stars, and a diffused glimmer fromthe white crests of the waves. The gale blew right on shore, and thehuge roar of the surf thundering in our ears seemed presently to bluntour sense of peril. The great waves now hung above us, white-crestedand hissing, till one would have said we were in the very pit of doom.A moment more, and the light craft would seem to soar upward as thewave slipped under it, a wrenching turn of my wrist would drive her ona slant through the curling top of foam, and then we would slideswiftly into the pit again, down a steep slope of purplish blacknessall alive with fleeting eyes of white light. The strain upon my wrist,the mighty effort required at each wave lest we should broach to and berolled over, were something that I had never dreamed to endure. Yet Idid endure it. And as for the brave woman in the bow, she simplypaddled on, steadily, strongly, without violence, so that I learned todepend on her for just so much force at each swift following crisis.For there was a new crisis every moment,--with a moment's grace as weslipped into each succeeding pit. At last we found ourselves off thecape,--and then well out into the open Strait, yet not engulfed. Alittle,--just as much as I durst, and that was very little,--I shiftedour course toward south. This brought a yet heavier strain upon mywrist, but there was no help for it if we would hope to get beyond thecape. How long we were I know not. I lost the sense of time. I hadno faculty left save those that were in service now to battle backdestruction. But at last I came to realize that we were well clear ofthe cape, that the sound of the breakers had dwindled, and that thetime had come to turn. To turn? Ay, but could it be done?
It could but be tried. To go on thus much longer was, I knew,impossible. My strength would certainly fail by and by.
"Comrade," said I,--and my voice sounded strange, as if longunused,--"keep paddling steadily as you are, but the moment I say'change,' paddle _hard_ on the other side."
"Yes, Monsieur!" she answered as quietly as if we had been walking in agarden.
I watched the approach of one of those great waves which would, as Iknew, have as vast a fellow to follow upon it. As soon as we were wellover the crest I began to turn.
"Change!" I shouted. And Mizpah's paddle flashed to the other side.Down we slanted into the pit. We lay at the bottom for a second,broadside on,--then we got the little craft fairly about as she rose.A second more, and the wind caught us, and completed the turn,--and thenext crest was fairly at my back. I drew a huge breath, praising Godand St. Joseph; and we ran in toward the hollow of the land before us.That part of the coast was strange to me, save as seen when passing byship; but I trusted there would be some estuary or some winding, withinwhich we might safely come to land.
The strain was now different, and therefore my nerves and muscles felta temporary relief; but it was still tremendous. There was still theimminent danger of broaching to as each wave-crest seized and twistedthe frail craft. But having the wind behind me, I had of course moresteerage way, and therefore a more instant and effective control. Weran on straight before the wind, but a few points off; and withdesperate anxiety I peered ahead for some hint of shelter on that wildlee shore. Mizpah, of course, knew the unspeakable strain of wieldingthe stern paddle in such a sea.
"Are you made of steel, Monsieur?" she presently asked. "I can hardlybelieve it possible that the strength of human sinews should endure solong."
"Mine, alas, will not endure much longer, comrade," said I.
"And what then?" she asked, in a steady voice.
"I do not know," said I; "but there is hope. I think we have not beenbrought through all this for nothing."
The roar of the breakers grew louder and louder again, as we graduallyneared the high coast which seemed to slip swiftly past on our righthand. It was black and appalling, serried along the crest with tops offir trees, white along the base with the great gnashing of thebreakers. As we ran into the head of the bay, with yet no sign of ashelter, the seas got more perilous, being crowded together and brokenso that I could not calculate upon them. Soon they became a madsmother; and I knew my strength for this bout had but little longer tolast.
"The end!" said I; "but we may win through! I will catch you when thecrash comes." And some blind prayer, I know not what, kept repeatingand repeating in the inward silence of my soul. New strength seemedthen to flow upon nerve and sinew,--and I descried, almost ahead of us,a space of smooth and sloping beach up which the seas rushed withoutrock to shatter them.
"This is our chance," I shouted. A wave came, smoother and more wholethan most, and paddling desperately I kept awhile upon the crest of it.Then like a flash it curled thinly, rolled the canoe over, and hurledus far up on the beach. Half blinded, half stunned, and altogetherchoking, I yet kept my wits; and catching Mizpah by the arm, I draggedher violently forward beyond reach of the next wave. Dropping herwithout a word, I turned back, and was just in time to catch therolling canoe. It, too, I succeeded in dragging to a place of safety;but it was so shattered and crushed as to be useless. The muskets,however, were in it; for I had taken care to lash them under the barsbefore leaving the shelter of the inlet.
The remnants of the canoe I hauled far up on the beach, and then Ireturned to Mizpah, who lay in utter exhaustion just where I haddropped her, so close to the water's edge that she was splashed by thespray of every wave.
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br /> "Come, comrade," I said, lifting her gently. "The saints have indeedbeen kind to us." But she made no reply. Leaning heavily upon me, andmoving as if in a dream, she let me lead her to the edge of the wood,where the herbage began behind a sort of windrow of rocks. There,seeing that the rocks shut off the wind, I released her, and droppingon the spot, she went at once to sleep. Then I felt myself suddenly asweak as a baby. I had no more care for anything save to sleep. Itried to pluck a bunch of herbage to put under Mizpah's head for apillow; but even as I stooped to gather it, I forgot where I was, andthe tide of dreams flowed over me.
The Forge in the Forest Page 18
