What pen could portray the feelings of the fond and doting Amine, when
she first discovered that she was separated from her husband? In a
state of bewilderment, she watched the other raft as the distance
between them increased. At last the shades of night hid it from her
aching eyes, and she dropped down in mute despair.
Gradually she recovered herself, and turning round, she exclaimed,
"Who's here?"
No answer.
"Who's here?" cried she in a louder voice; "alone--alone--and Philip
gone. Mother, mother, look down upon your unhappy child!" and Amine
frantically threw herself down so near to the edge of the raft, that
her long hair, which had fallen down, floated on the wave.
"Ah me! where am I?" cried Amine, after remaining in a state of torpor
for some hours. The sun glared fiercely upon her, and dazzled her eyes
as she opened them--she cast them on the blue wave close by her, and
beheld a large shark motionless by the side of the raft, waiting for
his prey. Recoiling from the edge, she started up. She turned round,
and beheld the raft vacant, and the truth flashed on her. "Oh! Philip,
Philip!" cried she, "then it is true, and you are gone for ever! I
thought it was only a dream, I recollect all now. Yes--all--all!"
And Amine sank down again upon her cot, which had been placed in the
centre of the raft, and remained motionless for some time.
But the demand for water became imperious; she seized one of the
bottles, and drank. "Yet why should I drink or eat? Why should I wish
to preserve life?" She rose, and looked round the horizon--"Sky and
water, nothing more. Is this the death I am to die--the cruel death
prophesied by Schriften--a lingering death under a burning sun, while
my vitals are parched within? Be it so! Fate I dare thee to thy
worst--we can die but once--and without him, what care I to live! But
yet I may see him again," continued Amine, hurriedly, after a pause.
"Yes! I may--who knows? Then welcome life, I'll nurse thee for that
bare hope--bare indeed with nought to feed on. Let me see, is it here
still?" Amine looked at her zone, and perceived her dagger was still
in it. "Well then, I will live since death is at my command, and be
guardful of life for my dear husband's sake." And Amine threw herself
on her resting-place that she might forget everything. She did: from
that morning till the noon of the next day, she remained in a state of
torpor.
When she again rose, she was faint; again she looked round her--there
was but sky and water to be seen. "Oh! this solitude--it is horrible!
death would be a release--but no, I must not die--I must live for
Philip." She refreshed herself with water and a few pieces of biscuit,
and folded her arms across her breast. "A few more days without
relief, and all must be over. Was ever woman situated as I am, and yet
I dare to indulge hope? Why, 'tis madness! And why am I thus singled
out: because I have wedded with Philip? It may be so; if so, I welcome
it. Wretches! who thus severed me from my husband; who, to save their
own lives, sacrificed a helpless woman! Nay! they might have saved me,
if they had had the least pity;--but no, they never felt it. And these
are Christians! The creed that the old priests would have had me--yes!
that Philip would have had me embrace. Charity and good-will! They
talk of it, but I have never seen them practise it! Loving one
another!--forgiving one another!--say rather hating and preying upon
one another! A creed never practised: why, if not practised, of what
value is it? Any creed were better--I abjure it, and if I be saved,
will abjure it still for ever. Shade of my mother! is it that I have
listened to these men--that I have, to win my husband's love, tried to
forget that which thou taughtest, even when a child at thy feet--that
faith which our forefathers for thousands of years lived and died
in--that creed proved by works, and obedience to the prophet's
will--is it for this that I am punished? Tell me, mother--oh! tell me
in my dreams."
The night closed in, and with the gloom rose heavy clouds; the
lightning darted through the firmament, ever and anon lighting up
the raft. At last, the flashes were so rapid, not following each
other--but darting down from every quarter at once, that the whole
firmament appeared as if on fire, and the thunder rolled along the
heavens, now near and loud, then rumbling in the distance. The breeze
rose up fresh, and the waves tossed the raft, and washed occasionally
even to Amine's feet, as she stood in the centre of it.
"I like this--this is far better than that calm and withering
heat--this rouses me," said Amine, as she cast her eyes up, and
watched the forked lightning till her vision became obscured. "Yes,
this is as it should be. Lightning, strike me if you please--waves
wash me off and bury me in a briny tomb--pour the wrath of the whole
elements upon this devoted head.--I care not, I laugh at, I defy it
all. Thou canst but kill, this little steel can do as much. Let those
who hoard up wealth--those who live in splendour--those that are
happy--those who have husbands, children, aught to love--let them
tremble, I have nothing. Elements! be ye fire, or water, or earth, or
air, Amine defies you! And yet--no, no, deceive not thyself, Amine,
there is no hope; thus will I mount my funeral bier, and wait the will
of destiny." And Amine regained the secure place which Philip had
fitted up for her in the centre of the raft, threw herself down upon
her bed, and shut her eyes.
The thunder and lightning was followed up by torrents of heavy rain,
which fell till daylight; the wind still continued fresh, but the sky
cleared, and the sun shone out. Amine remained shivering in her wet
garments; the heat of the sun proved too powerful for her exhausted
state, and her brain wandered. She rose up in a sitting posture,
looked around her, saw verdant fields in every direction, the
cocoa-nuts waving to the wind--imagined even that she saw her own
Philip in the distance hastening to her; she held out her arms; strove
to get up, and run to meet him, but her limbs refused their office;
she called to him, she screamed, and sank back exhausted on her
resting-place.