vessel had disappeared. The cable must have parted in the night, and they were running with bare poles before the gale; the seamanship of the man at the helm being confined to avoiding the more direct blows of the waves, on the huge crests of which the little tartane rode- gallantly perhaps in mariners' eyes, but very wretchedly to the feelings of the unhappy landsmen within her.
Arthur thought of St. Paul, and remembered with dismay that it was many days before sun or moon appeared. He managed to communicate his recollection to Lanty, who exclaimed, 'And he was a holy man, and he was a prisoner too. He will feel for us if any man can in this sore strait! Sancte Paule, ora pro nobis. An' haven't I got the blessed scapulary about me neck that will bring me through worse than this?'
The three managed to get down to tell the unfortunate inmates of the cabin what was the state of things, and to carry them some food, though at the expense of many falls and severe blows; and almost all of them were too faint or nauseated to be able to swallow such food as could survive the transport under such circumstances. Yet high-spirited little Estelle entreated to be carried on deck, to see what a storm was like. She had read of them so often, and wanted to see as well as to feel. She was almost ready to cry when Arthur assured her it was quite impossible, and her mother added a grave order not to trouble him.
Madame de Bourke looked so exhausted by the continual buffeting and the closeness of the cabin, and her voice was so weak, that Arthur grieved over the impossibility of giving her any air. Julienne tried to make her swallow some eau de vie; but the effort of steadying her hand seemed too much for her, and after a terrible lurch of the ship, which lodged the poor bonne in the opposite corner of the cabin, the lady shook her head and gave up the attempt. Indeed, she seemed so worn out that Arthur-little used to the sight of fainting-began to fear that her forebodings of dying before she could rejoin her husband were on the point of being realised.
However, the gale abated towards evening, and the youth himself was so much worn out that the first respite was spent in sleep. When he awoke, the sea was much calmer, and the eastern sun was rising in glory over it; the Turks, with their prayer carpets in a line, were simultaneously kneeling and bowing in prayer, with their faces turned towards it. Lanty uttered an only too emphatic curse upon the misbelievers, and Arthur vainly tried to make him believe that their 'Allah il Allah' was neither addressed to Mohammed nor the sun.
'Sure and if not, why did they make their obeisance to it all one as the Persians in the big history-book Master Phelim had at school?'
'It's to the east they turn Lanty, not to the sun.'
'And what right have the haythen spalpeens to turn to the east like good Christians?'
''Tis to their Prophet's tomb they look, at Mecca.'
'There, an' I tould you they were no better than haythens,' returned Lanty, 'to be praying and knocking their heads on the bare boards-that have as much sense as they have-to a dead man's tomb.'
Arthur's Scotch mind thought the Moors might have had the best of it in argument when he recollected Lanty's trust in his scapulary.
They tried to hold a conversation with the Reis, between lingua Franca and the Provencal of the renegade; and they came to the conclusion that no one had the least idea where they were, or where they were going; the ship's compass had been broken in the boarding, and there was no chart more available than the little map in the beginning of Estelle's precious copy of Telemaque. The Turkish Reis did not trouble himself about it, but squatted himself down with his chibouque, abandoning all guidance of the ship, and letting her drift at the will of wind and wave, or, as he said, the will of Allah. When asked where he thought she was going, he replied with solemn indifference, 'Kismet;' and all the survivors of the crew-for one had been washed overboard-seemed to share his resignation.
The only thing he did seem to care for was that if the infidel woman chose to persist in coming on deck, the canvas screen-which had been washed overboard-should be restored. This was done, and Madame de Bourke was assisted to a couch that had been prepared for her with cloaks, where the air revived her a little; but she listened with a faint smile to the assurances of Arthur, backed by Hebert, that this abandonment to fate gave the best chance. They might either be picked up by a Christian vessel or go ashore on a Christian coast; but Madame de Bourke did not build much on these hopes. She knew too well what were the habits of wreckers of all nations, to think that it would make much difference whether they were driven on the coast of Sicily or of Africa-'barring,' as Lanty said, 'that they should get Christian burial in the former case.'
'We are in the hands of a good God. That at least we know,' said the Countess. 'And He can hear us through, whether for life in Paradise, or trial a little longer here below.'
'Like Blandina,' observed Estelle.
'Ah! my child, who knows whether trials like even that blessed saint's may not be in reserve even for your tender age. When I think of these miserable men, who have renounced their faith, I see what fearful ordeals there may be for those who fall into the hands of those unbelievers. Strong men have yielded. How may it not be with my poor children?'
'God made Blandina brave, mamma. I will pray that He may make me so.'
Land was in sight at last. Purple mountains rose to the south in wild forms, looking strangely thunderous and red in the light of the sinking sun. A bay, with rocks jutting out far into the sea, seemed to embrace them with its arms. Soundings were made, and presently the Reis decided on anchoring. It was a rocky coast, with cliffs descending into the sea, covered with verdure, and the water beneath was clear as glass.
'Have we escaped the Syrtes to fall upon AEneas' cave?' murmured Arthur to himself.
'And if we could meet Queen Dido, or maybe Venus herself, 'twould be no bad thing!' observed Lanty, who remembered his Virgil on occasion. 'For there's not a drop of wather left barring eau de vie, and if these Moors get at that, 'tis raving madmen they would be.'
'Do they know where we are?' asked Arthur.
'Sorrah a bit!' returned Lanty, 'tho' 'tis a pretty place enough. If my old mother was here, 'tis her heart would warm to the mountains.'
'Is it Calypso's Island?' whispered Ulysse to his sister.
'See, what are they doing?' cried Estelle. 'There are people-don't you see, white specks crowding down to the water.'
There was just then a splash, and two bronzed figures were seen setting forth from the tartane to swim to shore. The Turkish Reis had despatched them, to ascertain whether the vessel had drifted, and who the inhabitants might be.
A good while elapsed before one of these scouts returned. There was a great deal of talk and gesticulating round him, and Lanty, mingling with it, brought back word that the place was the Bay of Golo, not far from Djigheli, and just beyond the Algerine frontier. The people were Cabeleyzes, a wild race of savage dogs, which means dogs according the Moors, living in the mountains, and independent of the Dey. A considerable number rushed to the coast, armed, and in great numbers, perceiving the tartane to be an Italian vessel, and expecting a raid by Sicilian robbers on their cattle; but the Moors had informed them that it was no such thing, but a prize taken in the name of the Dey of Algiers, in which an illustrious French Bey's harem was being conveyed to Algiers. From that city the tartane was now about a day's sail, having been driven to the eastward of it during the storm. 'The Turkish commander evidently does not like the neighbourhood,' said Arthur, 'judging by his gestures.'
'Dogs and sons of dogs are the best names he has for them,' rejoined Lanty.
'See! They have cut the cable! Are we not to wait for the other man who swam ashore?'
So it was. A favourable wind was blowing, and the Reis, being by no means certain of the disposition of the Cabeleyzes, chose to leave them behind him as soon as possible, and make his way to Algiers, which began to appear to his unfortunate passengers like a haven of safety.
They were not, however, out of the bay when the wind suddenly veered, and before the great lateen sail could be reefed, it had almost caused the vessel to be blown over. There was a pitching and tossing almost as violent as in the storm, and then wind and current began carrying the tartane towards the rocky shore. The Reis called the men to the oars, but their numbers were too few to be availing, and in a very few minutes more the vessel was driven hopelessly towards a mass of rocks.
Arthur, the Abbe, Hebert, and Lanty were all standing together at the head of the vessel. The poor Abbe seemed dazed, and kept dreamily fingering his rosary, and murmuring to himself. The other three consulted in a low voice.
'Were it not better to have the women here on deck?' asked Arthur.
'Eh, non!' sobbed Master Hebert. 'Let not my poor mistress see what is coming on her and her little ones!'
