The Pobratim: A Slav Novel

by P. Jones

  CHAPTER XXI

  FLIGHT

  Vranic, having stabbed Uros, remained for a moment rooted to the spotwhere he stood. When he saw the red blood gush out of the wound anddye the white shirt, he stared at the young man bewildered; he couldhardly understand what he had done. A strange feeling came over him.He almost fancied he was awaking from a horrid dream, and that he waswitnessing a deed done, not by himself, but by some person quiteunknown to him. When he saw Uros put his hand up to the wound, thenstagger, he was about to help him; but Milenko having appeared, heshuddered, came to his senses and ran off.

  Vranic had always been cursed with a morbidly discontenteddisposition, as peevish and as fretful as a porcupine. Although hewas superstitiously religious, and strictly kept all feasts andfasts, still, at the same time, he felt a grudge--almost a hatred--against God, who had made him so unlike other men; who, far fromgranting him the boon of health to which he felt he had a right, hadstamped him with an indelible sign so that all might keep aloof fromhim. He envied all the men he knew, for they laughed and were merry,when he himself was as gloomy as a lonely spider in its dusty oldweb. Still, as he vented the little energy that was in him in secretrancour, he would never have harmed anybody. He had, it was true, cutdown Bellacic's vines, but had done so instigated by his friends, orrather, by Bellacic's enemies. If he had stabbed Uros, it was reallydone in a moment of madness, driven almost to despair by manysleepless nights, by the shame and pain caused by the loss of hisear.

  Having done that dreadful deed, he understood that the Convent of St.George was no shelter for him. Besides, seeing Uros fall lifeless,his first impulse was flight. It mattered little whither he went. Itwas only after a short time when, breathless and faint, he stumbledagainst a stone and fell, that the thought of finding somehiding-place came into his head.

  He lurked amongst the rocks the whole of that day, terrified at theslightest noise he heard, trembling with fear if a bird flew besidehim, startled at his own shadow. At times he almost fancied thestones had eyes and were looking at him, and that weird, uncouthshapes moved in the bushes below.

  He was not hungry, but his lips were parched, his mouth felt clammywith thirst; still, there was not a drop of water to be had, nothingbut the hot sun from the sky above, and the glow of the scorchingstones from below.

  Then he asked himself again and again what he was to do and where hewas to go.

  Fear evoked a terrible bugbear in every imaginary path he took. If hewent back to Budua he would be murdered by his foes or arrested bythe Austrian police; Montenegro was out of the question.

  He had, by chance, seen during the day an Italian vessel ready tosail. The ship was still at anchor in the bay, for he could see itfrom his hiding-place. If he could only manage to get on board hemight be safe there. Once out of Budua, he cared but littlewhithersoever chance sent him.

  The best thing he could do was to wait till nightfall, then to creepstealthily into town. It was not likely that the murder was known toeverybody; if he could only get unseen to the _marina_ withoutcrossing the town, he then might get some boatman to row him to theItalian ship.

  The day seemed to be an endless one, and even when the sun had set,the red light of the after-glow struggled to keep night away.

  At last, when the shades of night fell upon the country, he began toscramble down, avoiding the path and the high road, shudderingwhenever he caught the sound of a footstep, feeling sick if arustling leaf was blown down against him. At last he reached thegates of the town, but instead of going in, he followed the walls,and thus managed to get to the port.

  It was now quite dark; some fishermen were setting out for the night,others were coming back home, laden with their prey. He kept alooffrom them all.

  After some time, he found a sailor lad sleeping in his boat. He shookhim and woke him, then he asked him to row him to the Italian shipthat was about to sail.

  The boy at first demurred, but the sight of a small silver coinovercame all his drowsiness as well as his objections. He consentedto ferry him across.

  "Do you know what boat she is?" asked Vranic.

  "Yes."

  "Well?"

  "If you are going to her, I suppose you know her name, too."

  "Can't you answer a question?" said Vranic, snappishly.

  "She's the _Diana_."

  "From?"

  "Genoa, I believe."

  "And bound?"

  "To Naples; but Italian ships don't take Slavs on board," said thelad.

  Vranic did not give him any answer.

  "Are you a sailor?" asked the boy, after a while.

  "No. I--I have some business in Italy."

  As soon as they were alongside the ship, Vranic called for thecaptain.

  The master, who was having his supper on deck, asked him what hewanted.

  "Are you bound for Naples?"

  "Yes."

  "Can you take me on board?"

  "As?"

  "As sailor? I'll work my way."

  "No. I have no need of sailors."

  "Then as a passenger?"

  "We are a cargo ship."

  "Still, if I make it worth your while?"

  "Our accommodation might not be such as would suit you."

  The captain suspected this man, who came to him in the midst of thedarkness asking for a passage, of having perpetrated some crime. Hefelt sure that Budua was too hot a place for him, and that he wasanxious to get away.

  "I can put up with anything--a sack on deck."

  "Climb up," replied the captain.

  Vranic managed to catch the rope ladder, and, after much difficulty,he climbed on board.

  The captain, seeing him and not liking his looks, felt confirmed inhis suspicions; therefore he asked him a rather large sum, at leastthree times what he would have asked from anybody else.

  Vranic tried to haggle, but at last he paid the money down. The ladwith the boat disappeared; still, he only felt safe when--a few hoursafterwards--the anchor having been heaved, the sails spread, the shipbegan to glide on the waters, and the dim lights of Budua disappearedin the distance.

  The sea was calm, the breeze fair; the crossing of the Adriaticseemed likely to be a prosperous one.

  A bed having been made up for him in the cabin, Vranic, weary andworn out, lay down; and, notwithstanding all his torturing thoughts,his mind, by degrees, became clouded and he went off to sleep. It istrue, he had hardly closed his eyes when he woke up again, thinkingof Uros as he had seen him when the blood was gushing out of hiswound; then a spectre even more dreadful to behold rose before hiseyes. It was the _voukoudlak_, from which he was escaping. Still,bodily and mental fatigue overcame all remorse, and, feeling safefrom his enemies, he went off to sleep, and, notwithstanding a seriesof dreadful dreams, he slept more soundly than he had done for many anight.

  When he awoke the next morning, all trace of land had disappeared;nothing was seen but the glittering waters of the blue sea and theglowing sun overhead. He was safe; remorse had vanished with fear; heonly felt, not simply hungry, but famished.

  Everything went on well for two or three days. The smacking breezeblew persistently. In a day more they hoped to reach Naples. The crewhad nothing to do but to mend old sails, to eat and sleep. They werea merry set of men, as easily amused as children; besides, all ofthem were wonderfully musical and possessed splendid voices. Gennaro,the youngest, especially might have made a great fortune as a tenor.In the evening they would sing all in a chorus, accompanyingthemselves with a guitar, a mandoline and a triangle.

  Vranic, amongst them, was like an owl in an aviary of singing-birds;besides, he knew but few words of Italian and could hardly understandtheir dialect. Although his sleep was no more molested by vampires,and he tried not to think of the crime he had committed, and almostsucceeded in driving away the visions that haunted him at times,still he was anything but happy. Was he not an exile from his nativecountry, for, even if the Austrian law could be defeated, would notthe terrible _karvarina_ be e
xercised against him whenever he met oneof Bellacic's numerous friends?

  In this mood--wrapped in his gloomy thoughts--Vranic kept aloof fromevery man on board. To the captain's questions he ever answered inmonosyllables; nor was he more talkative with the sailors. Once theyasked him to tell them a story of his country, and he complied.

  "Shall I tell you the story of the youth who was going to seek hisfortune?"

  "Yes; it must be a very interesting one."

  "Well--a youth was going to seek his fortune."

  "And then?"

  "The night before he was about to leave his village a storm destroyedthe bridge over which he had to pass."

  "Well--and then?"

  "He waited till they built another bridge."

  "But go on."

  "There is no going on, for the young man is waiting still," said he,with a sneer.

  After two or three days, Vranic was looked upon by all on board as apeevish, sullen fellow, and he was left to his own drearymeditations.

  One of the sailors, besides, got it into his head that Vranic had thegift of the evil eye, and it did not take very long to convince everyman on board of the truth of this assertion. Whenever he looked atthem, they invariably shut their two middle fingers, and pointed theindex and little finger at him, so as to counteract the effect of the_jettatura_. The only man on board who did not fear Vranic was themate, for he possessed a charm far more potent than a crooked nail, ahorse-shoe, a bit of horned coral, or even a little silverhump-backed man--this was a horse-chestnut, which he was oncefortunate enough to catch as it was falling from the tree, and beforeit had touched the ground. He cherished it as a treasure, and kept itconstantly in his pocket. It was infallible against the evil eye, andwas powerful in many other circumstances. He was a most lucky man,and, in fact, he felt sure he owed his good fortune to this talismanof his.

  Although the weather was delightful, still the captain and the crewcould not help feeling a kind of premonition of evil to come; allwere afraid that, sooner or later, Vranic would bring them ill-luck.At last the coasts of Italy were in sight, but with the far-offcoasts, a small cloud, a mere speck of vapour, was seen on thehorizon. It was but a tiny white flake, a soft, silvery spray, tornfrom some shrub blossoming in an unknown Eden, and blown by the westwind in the sky. It also looked like a patch worn by coquettishNature to enhance the diaphanous watchet-blue of the atmosphere.Still, the sailors frowned at it, and called the feathery cloudlet--scudding lazily about--a squall, and they were all glad to be insight of the land. The breeze freshened, the sea changed its colour,the waves rolled heavily; their tops were crested with foam. Still,the ship made gallantly for the neighbouring coast.

  The little cloud kept increasing in size; first it lengthened itselfin a wonderful way, like a snake spreading itself out; it also grewof a darker, duller tint. Then it rolled itself together, pileditself up, augmenting in volume, till it almost covered the whole ofthe horizon. Finally, it began to droop downwards, tapering everlower, and losing itself in a mist. The sea underneath began to beagitated, to boil and to bubble, seething with white foam; then adense smoke arose from the sea and mounted upwards as if to meet thedescending column of mist from the cloud just above it; both thecloud and the upheaving waves moved with the greatest rapidity, andseemed to be attracted by the ship, which endeavoured to tack aboutand steer away from them.

  All at once, the water overhead met the ascending mist, and then asparkling, silvery cloud arose in the spout, just like quicksilver ina glass tube.

  All the men were on deck, attending to the captain's directions; alleyes were attracted by the weird, beautiful, yet terrifying sight.The master, at the helm, did his best to avoid it, by changing theship's direction; still, the column of water advanced threateninglyin their course. It came nearer and ever nearer; now it was at agun-shot from the ship; if they had had a cannon on board, they mighthave fired against it and dissolved it, but they had no firearms. Theatmosphere around them was getting dark with mist, the waterspout wascoming against them, and if that mass of water burst down on the shipit would founder at once.

  What was to be done?

  "Leave the ship, and take to the boats," said some of the crew, butit was already too late; they could not help being involved in thecataclysm.

  Some of the men had sunk on their knees, and were asking the Virginor St. Nicholas of Bari to come to their help.

  "There is a remedy," said Vranic to the captain; "an infallibleremedy."

  "What is it?" asked the master, with the eagerness of a drowning manclutching at a straw.

  "If a sailor amongst the crew happens to be the eldest of seven sonshe can at once dissolve that cursed column of water, the joint workof the evil spirits of the air and those of the sea."

  "How so?" asked the captain.

  "Draw, at once, a pentagon, or five-pointed star, or King Solomon'sseal, on a piece of white paper, and let such a sailor, if he be onboard, stab it through the centre."

  The captain called all the men together, and asked if anyone amongstthem happened to be, by chance, the eldest of seven brothers.

  "My father has seven sons, and I am the eldest," said Gennaro, thatcurly-headed, bright-eyed Sicilian youth, for whom life seemed allsunshine. "Why, what am I to do?"

  The waterspout was advancing rapidly, the sea was lashed by themighty waves, and the ship, like a nutshell, was being tossed againstit.

  Vranic, who had drawn the cabalistic sign, handed it to the captain.

  "Stab that star in the centre, quickly."

  The Slav took out a little black dagger, and gave it to the youth.

  "Be quick! there is no time to be lost."

  The murmuring and hissing sound the column of water had been makinghad changed into the deafening roar of a waterfall. It seemed to bewhirling round with vertiginous rapidity, as it came upon them.

  "Make haste!" added the captain.

  "But why?"

  "Do it! this is no time to ask questions!" replied the master.

  "And then?" quoth the youth, turning to Vranic.

  "The waterspout will melt into rain."

  "And what will happen to me?"

  "To you? Why, nothing."

  "I am frightened."

  A vivid flash of lightning appeared, and the rumbling of the thundernow mingled itself with the roaring of the waters.

  "Frightened of what?" said the captain.

  "That man has the _jettatura_; I am sure he means mischief."

  "What a coward you are! Do what I order you, or, by the Madonna----"

  "What harm can befall you for stabbing a bit of paper?" said some ofthe sailors.

  "Quick! it is the only chance of saving us all!" added the boatswain.

  "Only, if you don't make haste, it'll be too late."

  The abyss of the waters seemed to open before the ship, ready toengulf it; the waves were rolling over it.

  Gennaro crossed himself devoutly, then he muttered a prayer; at lasthe took up the dagger and stabbed the pentagon in the very middle,just where Vranic had pointed to him with his finger; still, he grewghastly pale as he did so.

  "Holy Mother," said the youth, "forgive me if I have done wrong!"

  All the eyes anxiously turned from the bit of paper to thewaterspout, whirling round and coming ever nearer.

  All at once the whirling seemed to stop; then, as the motion relaxed,the column of water snapped somewhat above the middle; the lowerportion, or base, relapsed and gradually fell; it was absorbed by therising waves and the bubbling and foaming waters. The higher portionbegan to curl upwards and to disappear amidst the huge mass oflowering clouds overhead.

  "There," said Vranic, "I told you the spout would melt away andvanish."

  "Wonderful!" said the captain.

  "Yes, indeed!" said Gennaro, as he again crossed himself and handedthe dagger to its owner, evidently glad to get rid of it.

  "Well, you see that you were not struck dead," said the boatswain tothe youth.

  "N
or carried away by the devil," said another of the sailors.

  "The year is not yet out, nor the day either," thought Vranic tohimself; "and even if you live, you may rue this day and the deedyou've done."

  "You have saved all our lives, and we thank you, Gennaro," added thecaptain. "I shall never forget you; and I hope that, as long as Icommand a ship, we'll never part."

  Thereupon, he clasped him in his arms and kissed him fondly.

  "Thank you, captain; and may San Gennaro, my patron saint, and theblessed Virgin, grant you your wish and mine."

  "We thank you, too," said the captain to Vranic, feeling himselfbound to say something; "you are really a magician, and you know thesecret of the elements."

  "Oh! it is a thing that every child knows in our country, just likepouring oil in the sea to calm the waves."

  The men said nothing, but they were all glad the coasts were near,and that they would soon get rid of this uncanny and uncouth man.

  In the meanwhile, the sun had gone down, and dark night spread itselflike a pall over the sea. The storm then increased with the darkness.The waterspout had vanished, but in its stead a pouring rain camedown; the wind also began to blow in fitful blasts, and as it came ina contrary direction they were obliged to tack about, and to take inthe sails. The storm, however, kept increasing at a fearful rate; thewind was blowing a real hurricane; all sails, even the jib, had to bereefed. The sea, lashed by the wind, became ever more boisterous; thewaves rose in succession, uplifting themselves the one on top of theother, and dashing against the ship, which ever seemed ready tofounder. All hands were now at the pumps, and Vranic, along with theothers, worked away with all his strength.

  Steering--as the ship had done--to avoid the waterspout, she had beencontinually altering her course, so that the captain did not exactlyknow whereabouts they were. In the midst of the darkness and with thetorrents of rain that came pouring down, all traces of land had longdisappeared.

  All at once a mightier gust of wind came down upon the ship, thebeams groaned, then there was a tremendous crash and one of the mastscame down. There was a moment of panic and confusion; Vranic fellupon his knees and began to pray for help.

  Soon after that a light was seen at no very great distance.

  "We are saved," said the captain; "there is Cape Campanellalighthouse."

  All eyes were fixed upon that beacon.

  "It is rather too low to be Cape Campanella," added the boatswain.

  "Yes; and, besides, it flashes every two minutes," replied thecaptain.

  They thereupon concluded that it was the lighthouse on Carena Point,the south-western extremity of the island of Capri.

  Thinking it to be Cape Campanella, they had steered towards thelight--the only dangerous part of the island, on account of the reef,which stretches out a long way into the sea. When they found outtheir mistake it was too late to avoid the danger that threatenedthem; the ship was dashed against the rocks, which were heard gratingunder the keel and ripping open the sides, like the teeth of somefamished monster of the deep. Fortunately, the brig had got tightlywedged between two rocks and kept fast there, so nothing was to bedone but work hard at the pumps, trying to keep out as much water asthey possibly could.

  The night seemed everlasting. Still, by degrees, the storm subsided,and at dawn the wind had gone down and the sea had grown calm.

  At daybreak help came from the shore.

  "The ship is very much damaged," said the captain, "and so is thecargo, doubtless; but, at least, there are no lives lost," added he,looking round.

  A few moments afterwards, the boatswain, wanting something, calledGennaro, but no answer came. He called again and again, cursed hiscanine breed, but with no better success.

  "Where is Gennaro?" asked the captain.

  The youth was sought down below, but he was nowhere to be found. Allthe men of the crew looked at one another enquiringly, and at lastthe questions that everyone was afraid to ask were uttered.

  Had the youth been swept away by one of the huge breakers that washedover the deck? Had he been killed by the falling mast, or blown intothe deep by a sudden and unexpected gust of wind? No one had seen himdisappear; all looked around, expecting to see the handsome face ofthe youth they loved so well rising above the waves; but the greenwaters kept their secret. After that, all eyes turned towards Vranic,as if asking for an answer.

  "The last time I saw the youth was when he was working at the pumpsby me, just before the mast came down."

  They all muttered some oath, unintelligible to him, and then a prayerfor the youth. After that Vranic was only too glad to leave the ship,for every man on board seemed to look upon him as the cause ofGennaro's mysterious disappearance.

  Having remained a week in Naples, seeing his money, the only thing heloved, dwindle away, Vranic did his best to find some employment. Hefor a few days got a living as a porter, helping to unload sacks froman English ship. Still, that was but a very precarious living, and hedecided to follow a seafaring life, not because he was fond of it,but only to keep clear from his enemies and the laws of his country,and the vampire that had haunted him there every night.

  He happened to find employment, as cook, on the very ship he hadhelped to discharge. It was an English schooner, bound for Glasgow.The captain, a crusty old bachelor, was a real hermit-crab; the men,a most ruffianly set. Vranic, being hardly able to speak with anyone,indulged in his morose way of living, and, except for being kickedabout every now and then, he was left very much to himself.

  From Glasgow the schooner sailed for Genoa, where she arrived just asthe _Giustizia di Dio_ was about to set sail. The two ships came soclose together that Vranic, who kept a sharp look-out whenever he sawan Austrian flag, recognised Milenko standing on the deck andordering some manoeuvres.

  Although the young man could not perceive him, hidden as he was in thedarkness of the galley, and bending over the stove, still Vranic felta shock that for a few moments almost deprived him of his senses, andmade him feel quite sick.

  That day the dinner was quite a failure. The roast was burnt; thepotatoes, instead, were raw; the cauliflower was uneatable, and salthad been put in the pudding instead of sugar.

  If there is anything trying to human patience, it is a spoilt dinner,especially the first one gets in port. It is, therefore, not to bewondered at that the captain, never very forbearing at the best oftimes, got so angry that he kicked Vranic down the hatchway andalmost crippled him.

  Although the Dalmatian ship sailed away, bound probably towards theEast, and he would perhaps never see her captain again, still theshock he felt had quite unnerved him. From that day matters began togo on from bad to worse. Sailing from Genoa, they first met withcontrary winds, and much time was lost cruising about; after thatcame a spell of calm weather, and for long weeks they remained insight of the bold promontory and of the lighthouse of Cape Bearn, notfar from the port of Vendres. At last a fair wind arose, the sailswere made taut, and the schooner flew on the crested waves. A newlife seemed to have come over the crew, tired of their listlessinactivity; the captain cursed Vranic and kicked him a little lessthan he had done on the previous days.

  It was to be hoped that the wind would continue fair; otherwise theirprovisions would begin falling short. Ill-luck, however, was awaitingthem in another direction.

  Opening a keg of salted meat a few days later, the stench was soloathsome, that it reminded Vranic of that awful night when he hadstabbed the vampire; besides, big worms were crawling and wrigglingat the top. Vranic at once called the mate and showed him the rottenmeat, and the mate reported the fact to the captain. He only answeredwith a few oaths, then shrugged his shoulders, and said that dogswould lick their chops at such dainty morsels, and were his men anybetter than dogs?

  "Wash it well, clean it, and put some vinegar with it," said themate, who was the best man on board. "There is no other meat, andthat is better than starving."

  Vranic did as he was bid; he put more pepper than usual. Still, hehi
mself did not taste it, but lived on biscuit, for even the potatoeshad been all eaten up.

  A few days afterwards, taking out another piece from the cask, hedrew out a sinewy human arm, hacked in several places, and with thefingers chopped off. Shuddering, and seized with a feeling ofloathsomeness, he stood for a moment bewildered. Then he almostfancied he had touched something hairy in the cask, and looking in,he saw a disfigured and bearded man's head. Sickening at the gruesomesight, he dropped the arm into the cask and hastened to the mate,trying to explain to him what the barrel contained.

  The mate could hardly understand and would not believe him, but soonhe had to yield to the evidence of his own senses. The mate, in histurn, reported the horrible fact to the captain, who asked both mennot to divulge the secret to the crew. When night came on, the caskand its contents were thrown overboard. The captain was not to blamefor what the cask contained, nor were the ship-chandlers, who hadsupplied him at other times upon leaving Scotland. The cask bore thetrade-mark of a well-known foreign house trading in preserved meat.

  The provisions, which had been scarce, now began to fall short; butin a day or two they would have reached their destination. The wind,however, was contrary, and some delay ensued. Hunger was nowbeginning to be felt. The crew, overworked and badly fed, first grewsullen; the foremost of them, with scowling looks, began to utterthreatening words. Orders given were badly obeyed, or not obeyed atall. Long pent-up anger seemed every moment ready to break out--firstagainst the captain, then against the mate, finally against Vranic,who, they said, was leagued against them.

  The boatswain especially hated him.

  "Since that cursed foreigner has come on board," said he, "everythinghas been going from bad to worse. Even the provisions seem to dwindleand waste away."

  "I'd not be surprised," added one of the sailors, "that he is leaguedwith the captain to poison the whole lot of us, for, in fact, themeat tasted like carrion, and I don't know what's up with me."

  "Nonsense! Why poison us? Starving is much better," quoth another.

  A trifle soon brought on a quarrel, which ended in a tussle. Vranicgot cuffed and kicked about; he had been born in an unlucky moment,and everyone hated him without really understanding why or wherefore.

  Why do most people dislike toads or blind-worms?

  The mate, seeing the poor cook unfairly used, interfered on hisbehalf, and tried to put an end to the fight. This only made mattersworse. The captain, hearing the noise, appeared on deck, and a mutinyat once broke out.

  The boatswain, who was at the head of the revolted crew, snatching upa hatchet which happened to be there within his reach, advanced anddemanded a distribution of provisions.

  The captain, for all answer, knocked him down with a crow-bar; at thesame time he showed the crew the coast of England, which was faintlyvisible at a distance, as well as a man-of-war coming full sailtowards them.

  A day after this incident, the ship had landed her rebellious crew atCardiff. The boatswain was sent to jail, where, if he had been a manof a philosophical turn of mind, he might have meditated on thedifference between right and might.

  As for Vranic, he was but too glad to quit a ship where he was hatedby everybody, even by the captain, who had treated him more like agalley slave than a fellow-creature.

  After having earned a pittance as a porter for a short time, he againembarked on board the _Ave Maria_, an Austrian ship bound forMarseilles. This ship had had a remarkably prosperous voyage from theLevant. The captain had received a handsome gratuity, and now a cargohad been taken at a very high freight; therefore, from the captain tothe cabin-boy, every man on board was merry and worked with a goodwill.

  Although the weather was bleak, rainy and foggy, still the wind blewsteadily; moreover, the _Ave Maria_ was a good ship, and a fastsailer, withal she laboured under a great disadvantage, that of beingoverladen, and was, consequently, always shipping heavy seas.

  On leaving Cardiff, the captain found that two of the sailors, whohad been indulging in excesses of every kind whilst on shore, were ina bad state of health. A third sickened a few days afterwards, andfor a long time all three were quite unfit for work. Still, the shipmanaged to reach Marseilles without any mishap.

  The cargo was unloaded, a fresh one was taken on board; the menreceived medical assistance, and seemed to be recovering. On leavingMarseilles, matters went from bad to worse; the captain, his mate,and two other sailors fell ill.

  "It seems," said the captain, "as if someone has the gift of the evileye, for, since we left England, ill-luck follows in our wake."

  The crew was, therefore, greatly diminished, for the three men, whohad been recovering, were now, on account of improper food andoverwork, quite ill again.

  On leaving Marseilles they met with heavy gales and baffling squallsof wind; the ship began to pitch heavily, then to labour and strainin such a way that, overladen as she was, the pestilence-strickencrew could hardly manage her. For three days the wind blew with suchviolence that two men had to be constantly kept at the helm.Moreover, she shipped so many seas that hands had to be always at thepumps. The very first day the waves had washed away the coops; then,at last, the jib-boom and the bowsprit shrouds had been broken looseand torn away by the grasp of the storm.

  At last the storm subsided, and then the captain ascertained that theship had sustained such damage as to render her unsafe. In such apredicament, with the crew all ailing, the captain deemed itnecessary to go back to Marseilles for repairs.

  After a short stay there, the _Ave Maria_ set sail again for Palermo,where she arrived without further mishap; only the sick sailors,having had to work hard during the storm, were rather worse thanbetter. On leaving Palermo two other men of the crew had to be put onthe sick-list, so that by the time they reached the Adriatic the shipwas not much better than a pestiferous floating hospital. In fact,the only ones who had escaped the loathsome contagion were Vranic andthe two boys, and they had to do the work of the whole crew.

  It was fortunate that, notwithstanding the stormy season of the year,the weather kept steadily fair, for, in case of a hurricane, the crewwould have been almost helpless. At last land was within sight; thehills of Istria were seen, towards evening, as a faint greyish lineon the dark grey sky. The captain and the men heaved a sigh ofrelief; that very night they would cast anchor in the port ofTrieste. There some had their homes; all, at least, had relations orfriends. Vranic alone hoped to meet no one he knew.

  That evening they made a hearty meal, for, as their provisions hadslightly begun to fall short, they had scarcely satisfied theirhunger for several days; but now--almost within sight of thewelcoming, flashing rays of the Trieste lighthouse--they could,indeed, be somewhat prodigal.

  The sirocco, which had accompanied them all the way from Palermo, nowfell all at once, just as they had reached the neighbourhood of CapeSalvore. That sudden quietness boded nothing good. Soon, the captainperceived that the wind was shifting in the Gulf of Trieste. Bycertain well-known signs, he argued that the north-easterly wind wasrising; and soon afterwards, a fierce _bora_, the scourge of all theneighbourhood, began to blow.

  Orders were at once given to reef the topsails; then they began totack about, so as to come to an anchorage in the roads of Trieste assoon as possible.

  With the want of hands, the work proceeded very slowly and clumsily.Night came on--dark, dismal night--amidst a howling wind and ragingbillows dashing furiously against the little ship. It was a comforton the next morning to see the white houses and the naked hills ofTrieste; for they were not far from the port. Every means was triedto get near the land without being dashed against it and stranded, orsplit against the rocks; but the fierce wind baffled all theirefforts. And the whole of the day was passed in uselessly tackingabout and ever being driven farther off in the offing. Still, late inthe afternoon, they managed to get nearer the port, and at sunsetboth anchors were dropped, not far from the jetty; still, the violenceof the wind was such that all communication with the land wasren
dered impossible. That evening the last provisions were eaten, forthey had spent the whole day fasting. The strength of the galeincreased with the night. More chain was then added; but still theanchors began to come home. By degrees, all the chains were paid out;and, nevertheless, the ship was drifting. In so doing, she struck herhelm against a buoy. The shock caused one of the chains, which wasold and rusty, to snap. After that, the _Ave Maria_ was driven backbodily towards the coasts of Istria, till finding, at last, a betterbottom, the anchor held and the ship was stopped at about a mile fromPunta Grossa, not far from Capo d'Istria. There was no moon; the skywas overcast; the darkness all around was oppressive. The hugesurges, dashing against the bows and the forecastle, washed awayeverything on deck. The boats themselves were rendered unserviceable.The thermometer had fallen eighteen degrees in two days, and thekeen, sharp wind blowing rendered the cold most intense. A fringe oficicles was hanging down from the sides of the ship, the spray frozeon the tackle, and rendered the ropes as hard as iron cables.

  Then the ship sprung a leak, and the pumps had to be worked toprevent her from sinking. To keep the men alive, the captain opened apipe of Marsala which had been destined for the shippers. That night,which seemed everlasting, finally wore away, dawn came, and thesignal of distress was hoisted; a ship passed at no great distance,but took no notice of them. Anyhow, help could be expected fromTrieste; the coastguards must have seen them struggling against thestorm. That day the wind increased; not a ship, not a sailing-boatwas to be seen in the offing; what a long, dreary day of baffled hopethat was. When evening came on, the fasting crew, now completelyfagged out, began to lose courage, and yet they were but a few milesfrom the coast. That night Vranic had a dreadful vision. When he tookhis place at the pump, opposite him, at the other handle, stood thevampire grinning at him, with the horrible gash in his cheek. Thatgruesome sight was too dreadful to be borne; he felt his arms gettingstiff, and he fell fainting on the deck. He only recovered his senseswhen a huge wave came breaking against the deck and almost washed himoverboard.

  In the morning the wind began to abate; but now all the sailors werenot only thoroughly exhausted, but all more or less in a state ofintoxication. The pumps could hardly be worked any more; even Vranic,the boys and the captain, who had worked to the last, hoping to savetheir lives, were obliged to leave the vessel to sink.

  The _Ave Maria_ was going down rapidly, and now, even if the mencould have worked, it was impossible to think of saving her; she wasto be the prey of the waves. As for help from Trieste, it was uselesslooking out for it. Still, the titled gentlemen, in their warm andcosy offices of the _See-Behoerde_, which fronted the harbour, hadseen the ship fighting against the wind and the waves. They knew, or,at least, ought to have known, of her distress; but it was carnivaltime, and their thoughts were surely not with the ships at sea.

  At last, at eight o'clock, a ship was seen, and signals of distresswere made. The ship answered, and began tacking about and trying tocome near the sinking craft. When within reach of hearing, the wholecrew of the _Ave Maria_ summoned up all their strength and shoutedthat they were starving.