Looking up I saw, apparently not more than four or five yards away, the black side of our ship sinking fast; but through the portholes of the deck that was still above water I could see a dim light—that of the lamp which had been lighted at dusk and which still kept unwearied watch over the wreck of the deserted vessel. I still could hear the groans and cries of the hapless sufferers whom it had been impossible to remove and who were within a few feet of the abyss while, by that dismal lamp they could see each other’s misery and read each other’s agony in their eyes.
My fancy reverted to the dreadful scene on board—another inch of water would be enough to overweight her and destroy the little buoyancy that was left her. How far did those poor creatures understand the nearness of their fate? What were they saying in this awful moment? If they could see us safe in our boat—if they could hear the splash of our oars, how bitterly must their tortured souls complain to Heaven! But such agonizing martyrdom must surely avail to purify them of all guilt, and the grace of God must fill that hapless vessel, now when it was on the point of disappearing forever!
Our boat moved away; and still I watched the shapeless mass—though I confess that I believe it was my imagination rather than my eyes that discerned the Trinidad through the darkness, till I believe I saw, against the black sky, a huge arm reaching down to the tossing waters—the effect no doubt of my imagination on my senses.
XIII
The boat moved on—but whither? Not Marcial himself knew where he was steering her to. The darkness was so complete that we lost sight of the other boats and the lights on board the Prince were as invisible through the fog, as though a gust of wind had extinguished them. The waves ran so high and the squalls were so violent that our frail barque made very little way, but thanks to skilful steering she only once shipped water. We all sat silent, most of us fixing a melancholy gaze on the spot where we supposed our deserted comrades were at this moment engaged in an agonizing death-struggle. In the course of this passage I could not fail to make, as was my habit, certain reflections which I may venture to call philosophical. Some may laugh at a philosopher of fourteen; but I will not heed their laughter; I will try to write down the thoughts that occupied me at this juncture. Children too can think great thoughts and at such a moment, in face of such a spectacle, what brain but an idiot’s could remain unmoved.
There were both English and Spaniards in our boat—though most Spaniards—and it was strange to note how they fraternized, helping and encouraging each other in their common danger, and quite forgetting that only the day before they had been killing each other in hideous fight, more like wild beasts than men. I looked at the English who rowed with as good a will as our own sailors, I saw in their faces the same tokens of fear or of hope, and above all the same expression, sacred to humanity, of kindness and fellowship which was the common motive of all. And as I noted it I said to myself: “Good God! why are there wars? Why cannot these men be friends under all the circumstances of life as they are in danger? Is not such a scene as this enough to prove that all men are brothers?”
But the idea of nationality suddenly occurred to me to cut short these speculations, and my geographical theory of islands. “To be sure,” said I to myself, “the islands must need want to rob each other of some portion of the land, and that is what spoils everything. And indeed there must be a great many bad men there who make wars for their own advantage, because they are ambitious and wish for power, or are avaricious and wish for wealth. It is these bad men who deceive the rest—all the miserable creatures who do the fighting for them; and to make the fraud complete, they set them against other nations, sow discord and foment envy—and here you see the consequences. I am certain”—added I to myself, “that this can never go on; I will bet two to one that before long the inhabitants of the different islands will be convinced that they are committing a great folly in making such tremendous wars, and that a day will come when they will embrace each other and all agree to be like one family.” So I thought then; and now, after sixty years of life, I have not seen that day dawn.
The launch labored on through the heavy sea. I believe that if only my master would have consented Marcial would have been quite ready to pitch the English overboard and steer the boat to Cádiz or the nearest coast, even at the imminent risk of foundering on the way. I fancy he had suggested something of the kind to Don Alonso, speaking in a low voice, and that my master wished to give him a lesson in honor, for I heard him say:
“We are prisoners, Marcial—we are prisoners.”
The worst of it was that no vessel came in sight. The Prince had moved off, and no light on either
