As we have said, little William, standing near the stern of the
_Catamaran_, had watched the spectacle with suspended breath. It was
only after seeing the zygaena float lifeless on the water, and becoming
satisfied that Snowball had come out of the struggle safe as well as
victorious, that the boy gave utterance to a shout. Then, unable longer
to restrain himself, he raised a cry of joyful exultation.
It was neither prolonged nor repeated. It had scarce passed his lips,
ere it was succeeded by another of very different import. This was the
very opposite to a shout of joy: rather was it a cry of consternation.
That little drama of the ocean, of which he had been the sole spectator,
was not yet over. There was another act to come of equally thrilling
interest with that just ended,--an act in which he himself would be
called upon to play an important part along with the others.
It had already commenced; and the wild cry which escaped from the lips
of the sailor-lad announced his first perception of the new phase into
which the drama had entered.
Absorbed in the contemplation of the combat between Snowball and the
shark, he had hitherto remained unobservant of a circumstance of the
most alarming character,--one that threatened not only the destruction
of the Coromantee, but Ben Brace as well, and Lilly Lalee, and in time
little William himself,--in short, of the whole party.
The lives of all were at that moment in the hands of the sailor-lad, or
if not in his hands, then were all of them doomed to certain
destruction.
You may be wondering what strange circumstance this was, fraught with
such a terrible contingency. There was nothing mysterious in or about
it. It was simply that the _Catamaran_, carrying its large spread sail,
was drifting to leeward, and rapidly increasing the distance between
itself and the swimmers.
Relieved from the anxiety with which he had regarded the conflict,
little William at once became aware of this new danger,--hence his cry
of consternation. Ben Brace either perceived it at the same instant, or
else the shout of his _protege_ had drawn his attention to it; for,
quick succeeding the latter, the voice of the sailor went rolling across
the water in words of direction intended for the ears of little William.
"Will'm! Will'm!" shouted he, raising his lips above the surface so as
to enunciate more distinctly. "For marcy's sake, lad, lay hold on the
steerin' oar. Try to tack round, or we're lost one an' all o' us!"
At the same instant Snowball sputtered out some very similar orders; but
being sadly out of breath from his exertions in the long-continued
struggle with the zygaena, what proceeded from his mouth less resembled
words than the snorting of a porpoise; and was, in truth, altogether
unintelligible.
Little William needed no instructions,--neither to hear nor understand
them. He had perceived the danger, and, with intuitive promptness, had
commenced taking measures to avoid it. Partly guided by his own
thoughts and partly by the directions of Ben Brace, he sprang suddenly
towards the steering-oar; and, grasping it in both hands, he worked with
all his might to bring the _Catamaran_ about. After a time he succeeded
in getting her head as close to the wind as such a craft was capable of
sailing, but it soon became evident to him that the manoeuvre would be
of little or no avail. Although the raft did not make leeway quite as
much as before, still with its great sail, rudely bent as it was, she
made sufficient to preserve the distance from the swimmers; and, as
William anxiously observed, still slightly increasing. Even Snowball,
who, after giving the _coup de grace_ to the zygaena, had struck direct
towards the _Catamaran_,--even he, unencumbered by aught save his wet
shirt and trousers, although easily passing the others in his course,
did not appear to gain an inch upon the runaway raft.
It was an anxious time for all parties; and the anxiety reached its
height when they perceived, as one and all soon did, that the
unmanageable craft was keeping its distance, if not gaining a greater.
That state of things could not continue long. Both the swimmers had
already begun to show signs of flagging. Snowball, sea-duck that he
was, might have held out a good while; but the sailor, weighted with
Lalee, must soon "go under." Even Snowball could not swim forever; and,
unless some incident should arise to change the character of this
aquatic chase, and arrest the _Catamaran_ in her leeward course, sooner
or later must the Coromantee become also the prey of the all-swallowing
ocean.
For several minutes--they seemed hours to all--did the struggle continue
between man and _Catamaran_, without any very great advantage in favour
of either. It is true some change had taken place in the relative
positions of the parties. The Coromantee, at starting in pursuit of the
raft, had been some fathoms in the wake of Ben Brace and his _protege_.
They were now in his wake, falling, alas! still farther behind him.
Unfortunately for all, Snowball, while increasing his distance from
them, was not lessening it from the _Catamaran_; and therefore the
advantage he was gaining over the sailor could be of no use, so long as
the raft proved swifter as a sailer than he was as a swimmer.
Snowball's original idea in striking out in pursuit of the _Catamaran_
was to get aboard; and, by making a better use of the steering-oar than
he had hitherto done, to bring the craft back within _saving_ distance
of the exhausted swimmer. Confident in his natatory powers, he had at
first believed this feat to be not only possible, but probable and easy.
It was only after several minutes spent in the pursuit, and the
distance between him and the _Catamaran_ seemed to grow greater instead
of less, that the negro really began to feel anxiety about the result.
This anxiety kept increasing as the minutes passed, and the broad
stretch of blue water between him and the _Catamaran_ appeared to grow
no narrower, strike out as he would with all the strength of his sinewy
arms, and kick as he might with all the muscular energy that lay in his
stout legs.
His anxiety became anguish, when, after one of his most vigorous
efforts, he believed, or fancied, that all had been in vain, and that
the _Catamaran_ had actually gained upon him. Whether fancy or not, it
produced conviction in his mind that to overtake the craft was
impossible; and all at once he discontinued the attempt. He did not,
however, remain stationary in the water. Far from that. On abandoning
the pursuit of the _Catamaran_, he turned like an otter, and looked back
in the direction from which he had come. In this direction, nearly two
hundred fathoms distant, two dark objects, so close together as to seem
one, were visible over the "curl" of the water.
They were just visible to an eye elevated several inches above the
surface; and Snowball was obliged to buoy himself into an erect
attitude,--like a seal taking a survey of the circle around it, or a dog
pitched unexpectedly into a deep pond,--before he could see them.
He saw them, however; he knew what they were; and, without a moment's
pause or hesitation, he recommenced cleaving the water in a line leading
directly towards them.
The mind of the Coromantee, hitherto distracted by conflicting emotions,
had now but one thought. It was less purpose than a despairing
instinct. It was to support the child who had been intrusted to him--
the Lilly Lalee--above water as long as he should have strength; and
then to go down along with her into that vast, fathomless tomb, that
leaves no trace and carries no epitaph!