The sea-cook and the sailor were now swimming towards each other. It is
true that Ben was not making very rapid way, nor did Snowball return on
his course with any great alacrity. Despair had rendered the latter
somewhat irresolute; and he scarcely knew why he was swimming back,
unless it was to be drowned in company with the others; for drowning now
appeared their inevitable fate.
Slowly as both swam, they soon came together,--the countenances of both,
as they met, exhibiting that fixed, despairing look which bespeaks the
utter extinction of hope.
The _Catamaran_ was now at such a distance, that even could she have
been suddenly arrested in her course, and brought to an anchor, it was
doubtful whether either Snowball or the sailor could have reached her by
swimming. The raft itself and the water-casks lashed around it were no
longer to be seen. Only the white sail, that like a bit of fleecy
cloud, equally fleeting, was fast lessening to a speck upon the distant
horizon. No wonder that hope had forsaken them!
The sailor wondered that the sail was still set. During the first
moments, while endeavouring to come up with the craft, he had shouted to
William to let go the halliards. He had kept repeating this order,
until his voice, already hoarse and faltering, grew almost inarticulate
from sheet exhaustion of breath, and the rail, moreover, had drifted to
such a distance that it was not likely the lad could hear him. Under
this impression he had at length discontinued his feeble cries, and swam
on in slow and gloomy silence, wondering why William had not obeyed his
injunctions, feeling chagrin at his not doing so, and with good reason,
since the lowering of the sail might have still given them some chance
of overtaking the craft.
It was just as the sailor had given over calling out, and relapsed into
sullen silence, that Snowball was seen returning towards him. It was an
additional argument for despair this abandonment of the chase on the
part of the Coromantee. When such a swimmer had given it up, Ben knew
it was hopeless.
In a moment after they met face to face. The glance exchanged between
them was mutually understood without a word spoken by either. Each
tacitly read in the eyes of the other the dread destiny that awaited
them,--near, and soon to be fulfilled,--drowning!
Snowball was the first to break the terrible silence.
"You nigh done up, Massa Ben,--you muss be! Gib me de lilly gal. You
Lally! you lay hold on ma shoulder, and let Massa Brace ress a bit."
"No,--no!" protested the sailor, in a despairing tone. "It bean't no
use. I can carry her a bit longer. 'Tain't much longer as any o' us
'll be--"
"Sh! Massa Brace," interrupted the negro, speaking in a suppressed
whisper, and looking significantly towards the child. "Hope dar 's no
danger yet," he added, in a voice intended for the ear of Lalee. "We
oberhaul de _Catamaran_ by 'm by. De wind change, and bring dat craff
down on us. 'Peak in de French, Massa Ben," he continued, at the same
time adroitly adopting a _patois_ of that language. "De _pauvre jeune
fille_ don't understan' de French lingo. I know it am all ober wi' boaf
you an' me, and de gal, too but doan let her know it to de lass minute.
It be no use to do dat,--only make her feel wuss."
"_Eh bien_! all right!" muttered Ben, indiscriminately mingling his
French and English phrases. "_Pauvre enfant_! She shan't know nothin'
from me o' what be afore her. Lord a marcy on all o' us! I don't see
the raft any more! Whar be it? Can you see it, Snowball?"
"Gorramity, no!" replied the black, raising himself up in the water to
get a better view. "Gone out o' de sight altogedder! We nebba see dat
_Catamaran_ any more,--no, nebba!"
The additional accent of despair with which these words were uttered was
scarce perceptible. Had there been a hope, it would have been shattered
by the disappearance of the raft,--whose white sail was now no longer
visible against the blue background of the horizon. But all hope had
previously been abandoned; and this new phase of the drama produced but
slight change in the minds of its chief actors. Death was already
staring them in the face with that determination which promised no
prospect of avoiding it, and none was cherished. The only change that
occurred was in the action. The swimmers no longer directed themselves
in a particular course. There was none for them to follow. With the
disappearance of the sail they no longer knew in what direction to look
for the raft. For all they now knew of it, it might have gone to the
bottom, leaving them alone upon the bosom of the limitless ocean.
"No use swimmin' on'ards!" said Ben, despairingly. "It'll only waste
the bit of strength that be left us."
"No use," assented the negro. "Less lay to, and float on de water. Dat
be easier, and we can keep up de longer. Do, Massa Ben,--gib me de gal.
You mo' tired dan I. Come, lilly Lally, you grasp hold on ma shoulder!
Dat's de bess way. Come, now,--come, dear lilly gal."
And as Snowball spoke, he swam close alongside the girl and, gently
detaching her hand from the shoulder of the sailor, transferred its
feeble grasp to his own.
Ben no longer offered resistance to this generous action on the part of
his old comrade: for, in truth, he stood in dire necessity of the
relief; and, the transfer having been effected, both continued to float
upon the water, sustaining themselves with no more effort than was
absolutely necessary to keep their heads above the surface.