IV
THE SQUALL
How different is the scene that I have now to tell from that which hasjust been told! Gone are the quiet college rooms, gone the wind-swayedEnglish elms, the cawing rooks, and the familiar volumes on the shelves,and in their place there rises a vision of the great calm ocean gleamingin shaded silver lights beneath the beams of the full African moon. Agentle breeze fills the huge sail of our dhow, and draws us throughthe water that ripples musically against her sides. Most of the men aresleeping forward, for it is near midnight, but a stout swarthy Arab,Mahomed by name, stands at the tiller, lazily steering by the stars.Three miles or more to our starboard is a low dim line. It is theEastern shore of Central Africa. We are running to the southward, beforethe North East Monsoon, between the mainland and the reef that forhundreds of miles fringes this perilous coast. The night is quiet, soquiet that a whisper can be heard fore and aft the dhow; so quiet that afaint booming sound rolls across the water to us from the distant land.
The Arab at the tiller holds up his hand, and says one word:--”_Simba_(lion)!”
We all sit up and listen. Then it comes again, a slow, majestic sound,that thrills us to the marrow.
”To-morrow by ten o'clock,” I say, ”we ought, if the Captain is not outin his reckoning, which I think very probable, to make this mysteriousrock with a man's head, and begin our shooting.”
”And begin our search for the ruined city and the Fire of Life,”corrected Leo, taking his pipe from his mouth, and laughing a little.
”Nonsense!” I answered. ”You were airing your Arabic with that man atthe tiller this afternoon. What did he tell you? He has been trading(slave-trading, probably) up and down these latitudes for half of hisiniquitous life, and once landed on this very 'man' rock. Did he everhear anything of the ruined city or the caves?”
”No,” answered Leo. ”He says that the country is all swamp behind, andfull of snakes, especially pythons, and game, and that no man livesthere. But then there is a belt of swamp all along the East Africancoast, so that does not go for much.”
”Yes,” I said, ”it does--it goes for malaria. You see what sort of anopinion these gentry have of the country. Not one of them will go withus. They think that we are mad, and upon my word I believe that they areright. If ever we see old England again I shall be astonished. However,it does not greatly matter to me at my age, but I am anxious for you,Leo, and for Job. It's a Tom Fool's business, my boy.”
”All right, Uncle Horace. So far as I am concerned, I am willing to takemy chance. Look! What is that cloud?” and he pointed to a dark blotchupon the starry sky, some miles astern of us.
”Go and ask the man at the tiller,” I said.
He rose, stretched his arms, and went. Presently he returned.
”He says it is a squall, but it will pass far on one side of us.”
Just then Job came up, looking very stout and English in hisshooting-suit of brown flannel, and with a sort of perplexed appearanceupon his honest round face that had been very common with him since hegot into these strange waters.
”Please, sir,” he said, touching his sun hat, which was stuck on to theback of his head in a somewhat ludicrous fashion, ”as we have got allthose guns and things in the whale-boat astern, to say nothing of theprovisions in the lockers, I think it would be best if I got down andslept in her. I don't like the looks” (here he dropped his voice to aportentous whisper) ”of these black gentry; they have such a wonderfulthievish way about them. Supposing now that some of them were to slipinto the boat at night and cut the cable, and make off with her? Thatwould be a pretty go, that would.”
The whale-boat, I may explain, was one specially built for us at Dundee,in Scotland. We had brought it with us, as we knew that this coast was anetwork of creeks, and that we might require something to navigatethem with. She was a beautiful boat, thirty-feet in length, with acentre-board for sailing, copper-bottomed to keep the worm out of her,and full of water-tight compartments. The Captain of the dhow had toldus that when we reached the rock, which he knew, and which appeared tobe identical with the one described upon the sherd and by Leo's father,he would probably not be able to run up to it on account of the shallowsand breakers. Therefore we had employed three hours that very morning,whilst we were totally becalmed, the wind having dropped at sunrise,in transferring most of our goods and chattels to the whale-boat,and placing the guns, ammunition, and preserved provisions in thewater-tight lockers specially prepared for them, so that when we didsight the fabled rock we should have nothing to do but step into theboat, and run her ashore. Another reason that induced us to take thisprecautionary step was that Arab captains are apt to run past the pointthat they are making, either from carelessness or owing to a mistake inits identity. Now, as sailors know, it is quite impossible for a dhowwhich is only rigged to run before the monsoon to beat back against it.Therefore we got our boat ready to row for the rock at any moment.
”Well, Job,” I said, ”perhaps it would be as well. There are lots ofblankets there, only be careful to keep out of the moon, or it may turnyour head or blind you.”
”Lord, sir! I don't think it would much matter if it did; it is thatturned already with the sight of these blackamoors and their filthy,thieving ways. They are only fit for muck, they are; and they smell badenough for it already.”
Job, it will be perceived, was no admirer of the manners and customs ofour dark-skinned brothers.
Accordingly we hauled up the boat by the tow-rope till it was rightunder the stern of the dhow, and Job bundled into her with all the graceof a falling sack of potatoes. Then we returned and sat down on the deckagain, and smoked and talked in little gusts and jerks. The night was solovely, and our brains were so full of suppressed excitement of one sortand another, that we did not feel inclined to turn in. For nearly anhour we sat thus, and then, I think, we both dozed off. At least I havea faint recollection of Leo sleepily explaining that the head was not abad place to hit a buffalo, if you could catch him exactly between thehorns, or send your bullet down his throat, or some nonsense of thesort.
Then I remember no more; till suddenly--a frightful roar of wind, ashriek of terror from the awakening crew, and a whip-like sting of waterin our faces. Some of the men ran to let go the haulyards and lower thesail, but the parrel jammed and the yard would not come down. I sprangto my feet and hung on to a rope. The sky aft was dark as pitch, but themoon still shone brightly ahead of us and lit up the blackness. Beneathits sheen a huge white-topped breaker, twenty feet high or more, wasrushing on to us. It was on the break--the moon shone on its crest andtipped its foam with light. On it rushed beneath the inky sky, driven bythe awful squall behind it. Suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, I sawthe black shape of the whale-boat cast high into the air on the crest ofthe breaking wave. Then--a shock of water, a wild rush of boiling foam,and I was clinging for my life to the shroud, ay, swept straight outfrom it like a flag in a gale.
We were pooped.
The wave passed. It seemed to me that I was under water forminutes--really it was seconds. I looked forward. The blast had torn outthe great sail, and high in the air it was fluttering away to leewardlike a huge wounded bird. Then for a moment there was comparative calm,and in it I heard Job's voice yelling wildly, ”Come here to the boat.”
Bewildered and half-drowned as I was, I had the sense to rush aft. Ifelt the dhow sinking under me--she was full of water. Under her counterthe whale-boat was tossing furiously, and I saw the Arab Mahomed, whohad been steering, leap into her. I gave one desperate pull at thetow-rope to bring the boat alongside. Wildly I sprang also, Job caughtme by the arm and I rolled into the bottom of the boat. Down went thedhow bodily, and as she did so Mahomed drew his curved knife and severedthe fibre-rope by which we were fast to her, and in another second wewere driving before the storm over the place where the dhow had been.
”Great God!” I shrieked, ”where is Leo? _Leo! Leo!_”
”He's gone, sir, God help him!” roared Job into my ear; and such was thefury of the squall that his voice sounded like a whisper.
I wrung my hands in agony. Leo was drowned, and I was left alive tomourn him.
”Look out,” yelled Job; ”here comes another.”
I turned; a second huge wave was overtaking us. I half hoped that itwould drown me. With a curious fascination I watched its awful advent.The moon was nearly hidden now by the wreaths of the rushing storm, buta little light still caught the crest of the devouring breaker. Therewas something dark on it--a piece of wreckage. It was on us now, andthe boat was nearly full of water. But she was built in air-tightcompartments--Heaven bless the man who invented them!--and lifted upthrough it like a swan. Through the foam and turmoil I saw the blackthing on the wave hurrying right at me. I put out my right arm to wardit from me, and my hand closed on another arm, the wrist of which myfingers gripped like a vice. I am a very strong man, and had somethingto hold to, but my arm was nearly torn from its socket by the strain andweight of the floating body. Had the rush lasted another two seconds Imight either have let go or gone with it. But it passed, leaving us upto our knees in water.
”Bail out! bail out!” shouted Job, suiting the action to the word.
But I could not bail just then, for as the moon went out and left us intotal darkness, one faint, flying ray of light lit upon the face of theman I had gripped, who was now half lying, half floating in the bottomof the boat.
It was Leo. Leo brought back by the wave--back, dead or alive, from thevery jaws of Death.
”Bail out! bail out!” yelled Job, ”or we shall founder.”
I seized a large tin bowl with a handle to it, which was fixed under oneof the seats, and the three of us bailed away for dear life. The furioustempest drove over and round us, flinging the boat this way and that,the wind and the storm wreaths and the sheets of stinging spray blindedand bewildered us, but through it all we worked like demons with thewild exhilaration of despair, for even despair can exhilarate. Oneminute! three minutes! six minutes! The boat began to lighten, and nofresh wave swamped us. Five minutes more, and she was fairly clear.Then, suddenly, above the awful shriekings of the hurricane came aduller, deeper roar. Great Heavens! It was the voice of breakers!
At that moment the moon began to shine forth again--this time behind thepath of the squall. Out far across the torn bosom of the ocean shot theragged arrows of her light, and there, half a mile ahead of us, was awhite line of foam, then a little space of open-mouthed blackness, andthen another line of white. It was the breakers, and their roar grewclearer and yet more clear as we sped down upon them like a swallow.There they were, boiling up in snowy spouts of spray, smiting andgnashing together like the gleaming teeth of hell.
”Take the tiller, Mahomed!” I roared in Arabic. ”We must try and shootthem.” At the same moment I seized an oar, and got it out, motioning toJob to do likewise.
Mahomed clambered aft, and got hold of the tiller, and with somedifficulty Job, who had sometimes pulled a tub upon the homely Cam, gotout his oar. In another minute the boat's head was straight on to theever-nearing foam, towards which she plunged and tore with the speedof a racehorse. Just in front of us the first line of breakers seemeda little thinner than to the right or left--there was a cap of ratherdeeper water. I turned and pointed to it.
”Steer for your life, Mahomed!” I yelled. He was a skilful steersman,and well acquainted with the dangers of this most perilous coast, and Isaw him grip the tiller, bend his heavy frame forward, and stare at thefoaming terror till his big round eyes looked as though they would startout of his head. The send of the sea was driving the boat's head roundto starboard. If we struck the line of breakers fifty yards to starboardof the gap we must sink. It was a great field of twisting, spoutingwaves. Mahomed planted his foot against the seat before him, and,glancing at him, I saw his brown toes spread out like a hand with theweight he put upon them as he took the strain of the tiller. She cameround a bit, but not enough. I roared to Job to back water, whilst Idragged and laboured at my oar. She answered now, and none too soon.
Heavens, we were in them! And then followed a couple of minutes ofheart-breaking excitement such as I cannot hope to describe. All that Iremember is a shrieking sea of foam, out of which the billows rose here,there, and everywhere like avenging ghosts from their ocean grave. Oncewe were turned right round, but either by chance, or through Mahomed'sskilful steering, the boat's head came straight again before a breakerfilled us. One more--a monster. We were through it or over it--morethrough than over--and then, with a wild yell of exultation from theArab, we shot out into the comparative smooth water of the mouth of seabetween the teeth-like lines of gnashing waves.
But we were nearly full of water again, and not more than half a mileahead was the second line of breakers. Again we set to and bailedfuriously. Fortunately the storm had now quite gone by, and the moonshone brightly, revealing a rocky headland running half a mile or moreout into the sea, of which this second line of breakers appeared to bea continuation. At any rate, they boiled around its foot. Probably theridge that formed the headland ran out into the ocean, only at a lowerlevel, and made the reef also. This headland was terminated by a curiouspeak that seemed not to be more than a mile away from us. Just as we gotthe boat pretty clear for the second time, Leo, to my immense relief,opened his eyes and remarked that the clothes had tumbled off the bed,and that he supposed it was time to get up for chapel. I told him toshut his eyes and keep quiet, which he did without in the slightestdegree realizing the position. As for myself, his reference to chapelmade me reflect, with a sort of sick longing, on my comfortable roomsat Cambridge. Why had I been such a fool as to leave them? This is areflection that has several times recurred to me since, and with anever-increasing force.
But now again we were drifting down on the breakers, though withlessened speed, for the wind had fallen, and only the current or thetide (it afterwards turned out to be the tide) was driving us.
Another minute, and with a sort of howl to Allah from the Arab, a piousejaculation from myself, and something that was not pious from Job,we were in them. And then the whole scene, down to our final escape,repeated itself, only not quite so violently. Mahomed's skilful steeringand the air-tight compartments saved our lives. In five minutes we werethrough, and drifting--for we were too exhausted to do anything tohelp ourselves except keep her head straight--with the most startlingrapidity round the headland which I have described.
Round we went with the tide, until we got well under the lee of thepoint, and then suddenly the speed slackened, we ceased to make way,and finally appeared to be in dead water. The storm had entirely passed,leaving a clean-washed sky behind it; the headland intercepted the heavysea that had been occasioned by the squall, and the tide, which hadbeen running so fiercely up the river (for we were now in the mouth of ariver), was sluggish before it turned, so we floated quietly, and beforethe moon went down managed to bail out the boat thoroughly and get hera little ship-shape. Leo was sleeping profoundly, and on the whole Ithought it wise not to wake him. It was true he was sleeping in wetclothes, but the night was now so warm that I thought (and so did Job)that they were not likely to injure a man of his unusually vigorousconstitution. Besides, we had no dry ones at hand.
Presently the moon went down, and left us floating on the waters, nowonly heaving like some troubled woman's breast, with leisure to reflectupon all that we had gone through and all that we had escaped. Jobstationed himself at the bow, Mahomed kept his post at the tiller, and Isat on a seat in the middle of the boat close to where Leo was lying.
The moon went slowly down in chastened loveliness; she departed likesome sweet bride into her chamber, and long veil-like shadows crept upthe sky through which the stars peeped shyly out. Soon, however, theytoo began to pale before a splendour in the east, and then the quiveringfootsteps of the dawn came rushing across the new-born blue, and shookthe high stars from their places. Quieter and yet more quiet grew thesea, quiet as the soft mist that brooded on her bosom, and covered upher troubling, as the illusive wreaths of sleep brood upon a pain-rackedmind, causing it to forget its sorrow. From the east to the westsped the angels of the Dawn, from sea to sea, from mountain-top tomountain-top, scattering light with both their hands. On they sped outof the darkness, perfect, glorious, like spirits of the just breakingfrom the tomb; on, over the quiet sea, over the low coastline, and theswamps beyond, and the mountains above them; over those who slept inpeace and those who woke in sorrow; over the evil and the good; over theliving and the dead; over the wide world and all that breathes or hasbreathed thereon.
It was a wonderfully beautiful sight, and yet sad, perhaps, from thevery excess of its beauty. The arising sun; the setting sun! There wehave the symbol and the type of humanity, and all things with whichhumanity has to do. The symbol and the type, yes, and the earthlybeginning, and the end also. And on that morning this came home to mewith a peculiar force. The sun that rose to-day for us had set lastnight for eighteen of our fellow-voyagers!--had set everlastingly foreighteen whom we knew!
The dhow had gone down with them, they were tossing about among therocks and seaweed, so much human drift on the great ocean of Death! Andwe four were saved. But one day a sunrise will come when we shall beamong those who are lost, and then others will watch those gloriousrays, and grow sad in the midst of beauty, and dream of Death in thefull glow of arising Life!
For this is the lot of man.