"Let us pray for the souls of our unfortunate comrades--above all, for
Captain Lantejas. We have lost in him a most valiant officer."
And after this laconic oration over Don Cornelio, the barges were once
more set in motion, and rowed directly towards the isle of Roqueta.
Meanwhile the unhappy Lantejas sat upon the keel of the broken canoe,
contemplating with horrible anxiety the waves of the ocean constantly
surging around him, and gradually growing fiercer and higher. Now they
appeared as dark as Erebus; anon like ridges of liquid fire, as the
lightning flashed athwart the sky, furrowing the black clouds over his
head.
He listened attentively. He heard the wind whistling against the waves,
and lashing them into fury--as a horseman rouses his steed with whip and
spur; he heard the groaning of the surge, like an untamed horse
rebelling against his rider.
Fortunately for him, it was yet but the prologue of the storm to which
he was listening; and he was still able to maintain his seat upon the
frail embarkation.
At short intervals he shouted with all his might, but the wind hurled
back his cries, mingled with the spray that was dashed in his face.
No succour appeared within sight or hearing. Costal had no doubt been
either drowned or devoured; and the unhappy officer had arrived at the
full conviction, that such was to be his own fate; when, all of a
sudden, some object came under his eyes that caused him to quiver with
joy. Under the glare of the lightning, the barges were visible mounted
on the crest of a huge dark wave!
Only a momentary glance did he obtain of them; for, after the flash had
passed, the boats were again shrouded in the obscurity of the night.
Do Cornelio raised a loud cry, and listened for the response. No voice
reached him. His own was drowned; midst the roaring of the waters, and
could not have been heard by the people on board the boats.
He shouted repeatedly, but with the like result--no response.
Once more was he plunged into the deepest anxiety--approaching almost to
despair--when on the next flashing of lightning he once more beheld the
barges at a little distance from him, but in a direction altogether
opposite! They had passed him in the darkness, and were now rowing
away!
This was his reflection, though it was an erroneous one. The boats were
still in the same direction as at first, but now appeared in the
opposite quarter. This deception arose from Don Cornelio himself having
turned round on the broken canoe, which kept constantly spinning about
upon the waves.
At this moment a rocket shooting up into the dark sky inspired the
castaway with fresh hope; and he once more raised his voice, and shouted
with all the concentrated power of throat and lungs. After delivering
the cry, he remained in breathless expectation, equally concentrating
all his strength in the act of listening.
This time a responsive cry came back--a sound all the more joyful to his
ears from his recognising it as the voice of Costal.
Don Cornelio now repeated his cries, thick and fast after each other,
until his throat and jaws almost refused to give out the slightest
sound. Nevertheless he kept on shouting, until one of the barges,
bounding over the waves, forged close up to the side of the canoe. Then
he felt himself seized by strong arms--they were those of Costal and
Galeana--and the moment after he was lifted into the boot, where, like
the ex-pearl-diver, but from a very different cause, he fell fainting
upon the deck.
It was fortunate for Don Cornelio that Costal had remained only a short
time under the influence of his syncope. Recovering from it, the Indian
had, in a few words, revealed the situation of the canoe. The signal
agreed upon was at once made; and led, as described, to the rescue of
his companion from his perilous position.