THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.
Though to the Armenian physician the fact of Aphiz's being there was
nothing remarkable, to the reader we must explain how such a
circumstance could be possible after the scenes we have described;
for it will be remembered that we left him at the moment he was sunk
in the Bosphorus and left by the officers of the Sultan to drown.
The fact was that the Circassian's sentence was more than usually
peremptory and sudden, and he was taken at once from the place of
confinement and borne away in the boat without his person being
searched, or indeed any of the usual precautions in such cases being
adopted to prevent accident or the escape of the prisoner. Aphiz
submitted without resistance to be placed in the sack, preparatory
to being cast into the sea, nor was he ignorant of the fate that was
intended to be inflicted upon him, but some confident hope,
nevertheless, seemed to support him at the time.
The officers of the prison, not a little surprised at his quiet
acquiescence to all their purposes, when all was prepared, cast him,
as we have already described, into the sea, and quietly pulled away
from the spot. But no sooner did Aphiz find himself immersed in the
water than he commenced to cut the bag with his dagger, which he had
concealed in his bosom, and as he sank deeper and deeper towards the
bottom, quickly to release himself from the restraint of the heavy
canvas bag and shot that bore him still down, down, to the fearful
depth of the river's bed.
Aphiz Adegah was born near the sea-shore, and from childhood had
been accustomed to the freest exercise in the water. He was
therefore an expert and well-practised swimmer, and after he had
freed himself from the sack by the vigorous use of his dagger, he
gradually rose again to the surface of the water, but taking good
care to start away from the spot where he had been cast into the
sea, that he might not be observed by those who had been sent there
to execute the sentence of death upon him.
Still starting away and swimming under water, he gradually rose to
the surface far from the spot where he had first sunk, but after a
breath, still fearing detection, he dove again, and deeper and
deeper, sought to follow the current, until he should be beyond the
possibility of discovery. What a volume of thoughts passed through
his mind in the few seconds while he was descending in that fearful
confinement of the sack, and how vigorously he worked with the edge
of his dagger to cut an opening for escape, and when he drew that
one long inspiration as he rose to the surface and instantly plunged
again, what a relief it was to his aching lungs and overtasked
powers! But, as we have said, he was a practised swimmer, knew well
his powers, and confidently dove again into the depth of the waters.
As he sank deeper and deeper in this second dive, he found himself
suddenly losing all power and control over his body, and he felt as
though some invisible arm had seized upon him, and he was being
borne away he knew not whither. No effort of his was of the least
avail, and on, on, he was borne, and round and round he was turned
with the velocity of lightning, until he grew dizzy and faint, and
the density of the waters, acting upon the drums of his ears, became
almost insupportably painful, imparting a sensation as though the
head was between two iron plates, and a screw was being turned which
compressed it tighter and tighter every moment.
Though he was in this situation not more than one minute, yet it
seemed to him to be an hour of torture, so intense was the agony
experienced; and yet it was beyond a doubt his salvation in the end,
for he had by chance struck one of those violent undertows that
prevail in all these fresh water inland seas, which defy all
philosophical calculation, and which bore him with the speed of an
arrow for two hundred rods far away from the spot where he had a
second time sunk below the surface, until, as he once more rose to
the surface, he found himself so far away from the boat that he
could not possibly be recognized.
Close by him he heard the strokes and saw the oars of a large
man-of-war boat passing by the spot where he had risen from his
fearful contest with the water. His first impulse was to dive once
more, but his efforts with the current he had struck below had
seemed to deprive him of the power of all further exertion. The
shore was a quarter of a mile distant, and in his exhausted state,
he doubted if it was possible for him to reach it. He gave a second
look at the boat with longing eyes, his strength was momentarily
failing him, he felt that he must either sink or call to those in
the boat for assistance, and while he was thus debating in his own
mind, he observed the person who had the helm steer the boat towards
him, and in a moment after Aphiz was raised in the arms of the sea
men and placed in the bottom of the caique.
Scarcely had he been placed in this position when there commenced
throughout his whole system such a combination of fearful and
harrowing pains that he almost prayed that he might die, and be
relieved from them. He had not the power left in his limbs to move
one inch, and yet he felt as though he could roll and writhe all
over the boat. The fact was that while exertion was necessary to
preserve him from drowning, his instinct and mental faculties
combined to support him, and enable the sufferer still to make an
effort to preserve his life, but now that no exertion on his part
could benefit himself, he was thrown back upon a realization of the
consequent suffering induced by his exposure.
The quantity of water he had swallowed pained him beyond measure,
while the action of the dense water upon his brain, and the combined
pains he was enduring, rendered him almost deranged. It is said that
drowning is the easiest of deaths, but those who have recovered from
a state nearly approaching actual death by submersion in the water,
describe the sensations of recovery to consciousness to be beyond
description, painful and terrible. Those who have for a moment
fainted from some sudden cause have partially realized this misery
in the anguish caused for an instant by the first breath that
accompanies returning consciousness.
All this proved too much for the young Circassian, and though
removed from the immediate cause of danger he fainted with
exhaustion. He who commanded the boat was also a young man, and
seemed at once to be uncommonly interested in the stranger whom he
had rescued from the sea. Neither he nor any of his men suspected
how the half drowned man had come there, and adopting such means as
his experience suggested, the officer of the boat soon again
restored Aphiz to a state of painful consciousness. Realizing the
kind efforts that were made for him, the young Circassian smiled
through the trembling features of his face in acknowledgement.
Signing to his men to give way with more speed, the officer soon
moored along side one of the Sultan's sloops-of-war, and in a few
moments after the half drowned man was placed in the best berth the
cabin afforded.
As to himself, Aphiz had only sufficient consciousness left to
realize that he had been most miraculously save from a watery grave,
but a bare thought of the suffering he had just passed through, was
almost too much for him. And leaving chance to decide his future
fate, he turned painfully in his cot and was soon lost in sleep.
When the young Circassian awoke on the following morning he was once
more quite himself, being thoroughly refreshed by the long hours he
had slept. He thought over the last few days which had been so
eventful to him, and wondered what fate was now in store for him.--Of
course the generous conduct of Captain Selim, the Sultan's officer,
who had rescued him from drowning, and then hospitably entertained
him, was the most spontaneous action of a noble heart towards a
fellow-being in distress, but if he should know by what means Aphiz
had come in the situation which he had found him, would not his
loyalty to the Sultan demand that he should at once render up the
escaped prisoner once more to the executioner's hands?
His true policy therefore seemed to be to keep his own secret, and
this he resolved to do, but he had reasoned without knowing the
character or feelings of him to whom he was so much indebted, as we
shall see.
Scarcely had he resolved the matter in his mind, as we have
described, when Selim entered the cabin, and perceiving the
refreshed and cheerful appearance of Aphiz, addressed him in a
congratulatory tone.
"I rejoice to see you so well."
"Thanks to your prompt assistance and hospitality that I am not now
at the bottom of the Bosphorus."
"You were pretty close upon drowning, and must have been under water
for some time, I should say."
"I had indeed, and was very nearly exhausted," answered Aphiz.
"But how came you in such a pitiable plight, what led you so far
from the shore without a boat?"
"I--that is to say--"
"O, I see, some matter that you wish to keep a secret. Very well;
far be it from me to ask aught of thee, or urge thee to reveal any
matter that might compromise thy feelings."
"Not so," answered Aphiz; "but were I to speak, I might criminate
myself."
"O, fear no such matter with me, were you an escaped prisoner from
the law, I--"
"What?" asked Aphiz, as he observed the young officer regarding him
intently.
"Why, I should not betray you again into the Sultan's power. I have
no real sympathy with these Turks, and would much rather serve you,
who seem to be a stranger, than them."
"Thanks, a thousand thanks," answered Aphiz, warmly.
"Therefore, confide in me, and if I can serve thee, I will do so at
once."
"I will," said Aphiz, who felt that the officer was honest in what
he promised.
Then he told him how he had been condemned by the Sultan, for some
private enmity, to die, but he carefully observed the utmost secrecy
as to what the actual motive of his punishment really was. He told
how he had been borne in the execution boat to the usual spot for
the execution of the sentence that had been pronounced upon him. How
he had been confined in the sack and cast into the sea, describing
his first sensations and his struggle with his dagger until he cut
himself free from the terrible confinement of his canvas prison. How
he had struggled beneath the element, and then of the fearful eddy
into which he had been drawn, and finally how at last he rose to the
surface near his own boat.
That was all that Captain Selim knew of the matter, and after
hearing that Aphiz was a Circassian, he supplied him with an undress
uniform to further his disguise, and bade him welcome as his guest.
Therefore when the Armenian doctor and Selim found that their
conversation had been overheard by Aphiz, they neither feared his
betraying him, nor suspected the deep interest that the young
Circassian felt in the theme of their remarks.
"You were speaking of a slave of the Sultan's harem, named Komel,"
he said, approaching them.
"We were; and perhaps have spoken too plainly of a purpose for her
release from bondage," said the Armenian.
"Why too freely?"
"Because in a degree we have placed ourselves in your power, having
spoken treason."
"I care not whether it be treason or not," replied Aphiz; "it was
such as answered to the feelings of my own heart in every word.
Betray you! I will die to achieve the object you name."
"This is singular," said Selim, surprised at his earnestness.
"It would not seem so had I dared to tell you my story at first."
"Then you know the girl?" asked the physician and Selim, in a
breath.
"Know her? I have been her playmate from childhood. We have loved
and cherished each other until our very souls seemed blended into
one."
"Then how came she separated from you, and now in the Sultan's
harem?" asked the Armenian.
"Ay," continued Selim, "how was it that I saw her offered for sale
in the public bazaar?"
"Have patience with me and I will tell you all, of both her history
and my own."
Aphiz then related to them the story that is already familiar to the
reader, and seeing that those with whom he had to deal were in no
way particularly partial to the Sultan, he told word for word the
whole truth, even from the hour when he had saved him from the
Bedouins, to that when he had been cast into the sea.
All this but the more incited both Selim and the Armenian to strive
for Komel's release, and sitting there together, the trio strove how
best they could manage the affair. The Armenian's possessing the
entree to the palace was a matter of intense importance to the
furtherance of the object, and whatever plan should be adopted it
was agreed that he should seek the harem and communicate it to
Komel, thus obtaining her aid in its execution.
"Doubtless she thinks me dead," said Aphiz; "for the Sultan would
take care to tell her that."
"That's true, and so let her think, and we will manage an agreeable
surprise for her."
"As you will; but let us to this business this very night," said the
impatient Aphiz.
"That we will, and right heartily," said Selim, who hastened to his
young wife to tell her that she was to have a dear, beautiful
companion in their proposed voyage, and that she would be on board
before the morning.
Aphiz was now all impatience. He could scarcely wait for the hours
to pass that should bring about the period allotted for the attempt
to release her whom he so fondly, and until now so hopelessly,
loved. In the meantime the good Armenian physician, with redoubled
interest, now that he had learned Aphiz's story, sought the Sultan's
harem, where he quietly broached to Komel the plan that had been
agreed upon whereby she should be transported once more to her
distant home and the scenes of her childhood.