The captain was not very far out in his reckoning when he prophesied
that the unusual calm of the previous evening betokened the approach of
a storm. Every one who has had experience of the Mediterranean is aware
with what little warning gales spring up. At daybreak the weather may be
all that can be desired, and in the evening your ship is fighting her
way along in the teeth of a hurricane. In this particular instance, when
I turned into my bunk after the fright Pharos had given me, as narrated
in the preceding chapter, the sea was as smooth as glass and the sky
innocent of a single cloud. When I opened my eyes on the morning
following, the yacht was being pitched up and down and to and fro like a
cork. A gale of wind was blowing overhead, while every timber sent forth
an indignant protest against the barbarity to which it was being
subjected. From the pantry, beyond the saloon companion-ladder, a
clatter of breaking glass followed every roll, while I was able to
estimate the magnitude of the seas the little vessel was encountering by
the number of times her propeller raced as she hung suspended in
mid-air. For upward of an hour I remained in my bunk, thinking of the
singular events of the night before and telling myself that were it not
for the Fraeulein Valerie I could find it in my heart to wish myself out
of the yacht and back in my own comfortable studio once more. By seven
o'clock my curiosity was so excited as to what was doing on deck that I
could no longer remain inactive. I accordingly scrambled out of bed and
dressed myself, a proceeding which, owing to the movement of the vessel,
was attended with no small amount of difficulty, and then, clutching at
everything that would permit of a grip, I passed out of the saloon and
made my way up the companion-ladder. On glancing through the portholes
there, a scene of indescribable tumult met my eye. In place of the calm
and almost monotonous stretch of blue water across which we had been
sailing so peacefully less than twenty-four hours before, I now saw a
wild and angry sea, upon which dark, leaden clouds looked down. The gale
was from the north-east and beat upon our port quarter with relentless
fury.
My horizon being limited in the companion, I turned the handle and
prepared to step on to the deck outside. It was only when I had done so
that I realised how strong the wind was; it caught the door and dashed
it from my hand as if it had been made of paper, while the cap I had
upon my head was whisked off and carried away into the swirl of grey
water astern before I had time to clap my hand to it. Undaunted,
however, by this mishap, I shut the door, and, hanging on to the
hand-rail, lest I too should be washed overboard, made my way forward
and eventually reached the ladder leading to the bridge. By the time I
put my foot upon the first step I was quite exhausted and had to pause
in order to recover my breath; and yet, if it was so bad below, how
shall I describe the scene which greeted my eyes when I stood upon the
bridge itself? From that dizzy height I was better able to estimate the
magnitude of the waves and the capabilities of the little vessel for
withstanding them.
The captain, sea-booted and clad in sou'wester and oilskins, came
forward and dragged me to a place of safety as soon as he became aware
of my presence. I saw his lips move, but what with the shrieking of the
wind in the shrouds and the pounding of the seas on the deck below, what
he said was quite inaudible. Once in the corner to which he led me, I
clung to the rails like a drowning man and regarded the world above my
canvas screen in silent consternation. And I had excellent reasons for
being afraid, for the picture before me was one that might have appalled
the stoutest heart. Violent as the sea had appeared from the port of the
companion hatch, it looked doubly so now; and the higher the waves, the
deeper the valleys in between. Tossed to and fro, her bows one moment in
mid-air and the next pointing to the bottom of the ocean, it seemed
impossible so frail a craft could long withstand the buffeting she was
receiving. She rolled without ceasing, long, sickening movements
followed on each occasion by a death-like pause that made the heart
stand still and forced the belief upon one that she could never right
herself again. Times out of number I searched the captain's face in the
hope of deriving some sort of encouragement from it; but I found none.
On the other hand, it was plain, from the glances he now and again threw
back along the vessel, and from the strained expression that was never
absent from his eyes, that he was as anxious as myself, and, since he
was more conversant with her capabilities, with perhaps greater reason.
Only the man at the wheel--a tall, gaunt individual, with bushy eyebrows
and the largest hands I have ever seen on a human being--seemed
undisturbed. Despite the fact that upon his handling of those frail
spokes depended the lives of twenty human creatures, he was as undaunted
by the war of the elements going on around him as if he were sitting by
the fireside, smoking his pipe, ashore.
For upward of half an hour I remained where the captain had placed me,
drenched by the spray, listening to the dull thud of the seas as they
broke upon the deck below, and watching with an interest that amounted
almost to a pain the streams of water that sluiced backward and forward
across the bridge every time she rolled. Then, summoning all my courage,
for I can assure you it was needed, I staggered toward the ladder and
once more prepared to make my way below. I had not reached the deck,
however, and fortunately my hands had not quitted the guide rails, when
a wave larger than any I had yet seen mounted the bulwark and dashed
aboard, carrying away a boat and twisting the davits, from which it had
been suspended a moment before, like pieces of bent wire. Had I
descended a moment earlier, nothing could have prevented me from being
washed overboard. With a feeling of devout thankfulness in my heart for
my escape, I remained where I was, clinging to the ladder long after the
sea had passed and disappeared through the scuppers. Then I descended
and, holding on to the rails as before, eventually reached the saloon
entrance in safety.
To be inside, in that still, warm atmosphere, out of the pressure of the
wind, was a relief beyond all telling, though what sort of object I must
have looked, with my hair blown in all directions by the wind and my
clothes soaked through and through by the spray that had dashed upon me
on the bridge, is more than I can say. Thinking it advisable I should
change as soon as possible, I made my way to my own cabin, but, before I
reached it, the door of that occupied by the Fraeulein Valerie opened and
she came out. That something unusual was the matter I saw at a glance.
"Mr. Forrester," she said, with a scorn in her voice that cut like a
knife, "come here. I have something curious to show you."
I did as she wished, and forthwith she led me to her cabin. I was not
prepared, however, for what I found there. Crouching in a corner, almost
beside himself with fear, and with the frightened face of the monkey
Pehtes peering out from beneath his coat, was no less a person than
Pharos, the man I had hitherto supposed insensible to such an emotion.
In the presence of that death, however, which we all believed to be so
imminent, he showed himself a coward past all believing. Terror
incarnate stared from his eyes and rendered him unconscious of our
scorn. At every roll the vessel gave he shrank farther into his corner,
glaring at us meanwhile with a ferocity that was not very far removed
from madness.
At any other time and in any other person such an exhibition might have
been conducive of pity; in his case, however, it only added to the
loathing I already felt for him. One thing was very certain, in his
present condition he was no fit companion for the woman who stood
clinging to the door behind me. I accordingly determined to get him
either to his own cabin or to mine without delay.
"Come, come, Monsieur Pharos," I said, "you must not give way like this.
I have been on deck, and I can assure you there is no immediate danger."
As I said this I stooped and placed my hand upon his shoulder. He threw
it off with a snarl and a snap of his teeth that was more like the
action of a mad dog than that of a man.
"You lie, you lie!" he cried in a paroxysm of rage and fear. "I am
cursed, and I shall never see land again. But I will not die--I will not
die! There must be some way of keeping the yacht afloat. The captain
must find one. If any one is to be saved it must be me. Do you hear what
I say? It must be me."
For the abominable selfishness of this remark I could have struck him.
"Are you a man that you can talk like this in the presence of a woman?"
I cried. "For shame, sir, for shame! Get up and let me conduct you to
your own cabin."
With this I lifted him to his feet and, whether he liked it or not, half
led and half dragged him along the saloon to his own quarters. Once
there I placed him on his settee, but the next roll of the vessel
brought him to the floor and left him crouching in the corner, still
clutching the monkey, his knees almost level with his shoulders, and his
awful face looking up at me between them. The whole affair was so
detestable that my gorge rose at it, and when I left him I returned to
the saloon with a greater detestation of him in my heart than I had felt
before. I found the Fraeulein Valerie seated at the table.
"Fraeulein," I said, seating myself beside her, "I am afraid you have
been needlessly alarmed. As I said in there, I give you my word there is
no immediate danger."
"I _am_ frightened," she answered. "See how my hands are trembling. But
it is not death I fear."
"You fear that man," I said, nodding my head in the direction of the
cabin I had just left; "but I assure you, you need not do so, for
to-day, at least, he is harmless."
"Ah! you do not know him as I do," she replied. "I have seen him like
this before. As soon as the storm abates he will be himself again, and
then he will hate us both the more for having been witnesses of his
cowardice." Then, sinking her voice a little, she added: "I often
wonder, Mr. Forrester, whether he can be human. If so, he must be the
only one of his kind in the world, for Nature surely could not permit
two such men to live."