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_ How different is the scene that I have now to tell from that which has
just been told! Gone are the quiet college rooms, gone the wind-swayed
English elms, the cawing rooks, and the familiar volumes on the
shelves, and in their place there rises a vision of the great calm
ocean gleaming in shaded silver lights beneath the beams of the full
African moon. A gentle breeze fills the huge sail of our dhow, and
draws us through the water that ripples musically against her sides.
Most of the men are sleeping 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 the Eastern shore of Central Africa. We are running to
the southward, before the North East Monsoon, between the mainland and
the reef that for hundreds of miles fringes this perilous coast. The
night is quiet, so quiet that a whisper can be heard fore and aft the
dhow; so quiet that a faint 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
out in his reckoning, which I think very probable, to make this
mysterious rock 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 at
the tiller this afternoon. What did he tell you? He has been trading
(slave-trading, probably) up and down these latitudes for half of his
iniquitous life, and once landed on this very "man" rock. Did he ever
hear anything of the ruined city or the caves?"
"No," answered Leo. "He says that the country is all swamp behind, and
full of snakes, especially pythons, and game, and that no man lives
there. But then there is a belt of swamp all along the East African
coast, so that does not go for much."
"Yes," I said, "it does--it goes for malaria. You see what sort of an
opinion these gentry have of the country. Not one of them will go with
us. They think that we are mad, and upon my word I believe that they
are right. 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
take my chance. Look! What is that cloud?" and he pointed to a dark
blotch upon 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 his shooting-
suit of brown flannel, and with a sort of perplexed appearance upon
his honest round face that had been very common with him since he got
into these strange waters.
"Please, sir," he said, touching his sun hat, which was stuck on to
the back of his head in a somewhat ludicrous fashion, "as we have got
all those guns and things in the whale-boat astern, to say nothing of
the provisions in the lockers, I think it would be best if I got down
and slept in her. I don't like the looks" (here he dropped his voice
to a portentous whisper) "of these black gentry; they have such a
wonderful thievish way about them. Supposing now that some of them
were to slip into the boat at night and cut the cable, and make off
with her? That would 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 a network of creeks, and that we might require something to
navigate them with. She was a beautiful boat, thirty-feet in length,
with a centre-board for sailing, copper-bottomed to keep the worm out
of her, and full of water-tight compartments. The Captain of the dhow
had told us that when we reached the rock, which he knew, and which
appeared to be 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 shallows and 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 the water-tight lockers specially prepared for them, so
that when we did sight the fabled rock we should have nothing to do
but step into the boat, and run her ashore. Another reason that
induced us to take this precautionary step was that Arab captains are
apt to run past the point that they are making, either from
carelessness or owing to a mistake in its identity. Now, as sailors
know, it is quite impossible for a dhow which 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 of
blankets there, only be careful to keep out of the moon, or it may
turn your head or blind you."
"Lord, sir! I don't think it would much matter if it did; it is that
turned already with the sight of these blackamoors and their filthy,
thieving ways. They are only fit for muck, they are; and they smell
bad enough for it already."
Job, it will be perceived, was no admirer of the manners and customs
of our dark-skinned brothers.
Accordingly we hauled up the boat by the tow-rope till it was right
under the stern of the dhow, and Job bundled into her with all the
grace of a falling sack of potatoes. Then we returned and sat down on
the deck again, and smoked and talked in little gusts and jerks. The
night was so lovely, and our brains were so full of suppressed
excitement of one sort and another, that we did not feel inclined to
turn in. For nearly an hour we sat thus, and then, I think, we both
dozed off. At least I have a faint recollection of Leo sleepily
explaining that the head was not a bad place to hit a buffalo, if you
could catch him exactly between the horns, or send your bullet down
his throat, or some nonsense of the sort.
Then I remember no more; till suddenly--a frightful roar of wind, a
shriek of terror from the awakening crew, and a whip-like sting of
water in our faces. Some of the men ran to let go the haulyards and
lower the sail, but the parrel jammed and the yard would not come
down. I sprang to my feet and hung on to a rope. The sky aft was dark
as pitch, but the moon still shone brightly ahead of us and lit up the
blackness. Beneath its sheen a huge white-topped breaker, twenty feet
high or more, was rushing on to us. It was on the break--the moon
shone on its crest and tipped its foam with light. On it rushed
beneath the inky sky, driven by the awful squall behind it. Suddenly,
in the twinkling of an eye, I saw the black shape of the whale-boat
cast high into the air on the crest of the 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 out from it like a flag in a
gale.
We were pooped.
The wave passed. It seemed to me that I was under water for minutes--
really it was seconds. I looked forward. The blast had torn out the
great sail, and high in the air it was fluttering away to leeward like
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. I
felt the dhow sinking under me--she was full of water. Under her
counter the whale-boat was tossing furiously, and I saw the Arab
Mahomed, who had been steering, leap into her. I gave one desperate
pull at the tow-rope to bring the boat alongside. Wildly I sprang
also, Job caught me by the arm and I rolled into the bottom of the
boat. Down went the dhow bodily, and as she did so Mahomed drew his
curved knife and severed the fibre-rope by which we were fast to her,
and in another second we were 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
the fury of the squall that his voice sounded like a whisper.
I wrung my hands in agony. Leo was drowned, and I was left alive to
mourn him.
"Look out," yelled Job; "here comes another."
I turned; a second huge wave was overtaking us. I half hoped that it
would drown me. With a curious fascination I watched its awful advent.
The moon was nearly hidden now by the wreaths of the rushing storm,
but a little light still caught the crest of the devouring breaker.
There was something dark on it--a piece of wreckage. It was on us now,
and the boat was nearly full of water. But she was built in air-tight
compartments--Heaven bless the man who invented them!--and lifted up
through it like a swan. Through the foam and turmoil I saw the black
thing on the wave hurrying right at me. I put out my right arm to ward
it from me, and my hand closed on another arm, the wrist of which my
fingers gripped like a vice. I am a very strong man, and had something
to hold to, but my arm was nearly torn from its socket by the strain
and weight of the floating body. Had the rush lasted another two
seconds I might either have let go or gone with it. But it passed,
leaving us up to 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
in total darkness, one faint, flying ray of light lit upon the face of
the man I had gripped, who was now half lying, half floating in the
bottom of the boat.
It was Leo. Leo brought back by the wave--back, dead or alive, from
the very 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
one of the seats, and the three of us bailed away for dear life. The
furious tempest drove over and round us, flinging the boat this way
and that, the wind and the storm wreaths and the sheets of stinging
spray blinded and bewildered us, but through it all we worked like
demons with the wild exhilaration of despair, for even despair can
exhilarate. One minute! three minutes! six minutes! The boat began to
lighten, and no fresh wave swamped us. Five minutes more, and she was
fairly clear. Then, suddenly, above the awful shriekings of the
hurricane came a duller, deeper roar. Great Heavens! It was the voice
of breakers!
At that moment the moon began to shine forth again--this time behind
the path of the squall. Out far across the torn bosom of the ocean
shot the ragged arrows of her light, and there, half a mile ahead of
us, was a white line of foam, then a little space of open-mouthed
blackness, and then another line of white. It was the breakers, and
their roar grew clearer and yet more clear as we sped down upon them
like a swallow. There they were, boiling up in snowy spouts of spray,
smiting and gnashing together like the gleaming teeth of hell.
"Take the tiller, Mahomed!" I roared in Arabic. "We must try and shoot
them." At the same moment I seized an oar, and got it out, motioning
to Job to do likewise.
Mahomed clambered aft, and got hold of the tiller, and with some
difficulty Job, who had sometimes pulled a tub upon the homely Cam,
got out his oar. In another minute the boat's head was straight on to
the ever-nearing foam, towards which she plunged and tore with the
speed of a racehorse. Just in front of us the first line of breakers
seemed a little thinner than to the right or left--there was a cap of
rather deeper 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
I saw him grip the tiller, bend his heavy frame forward, and stare at
the foaming terror till his big round eyes looked as though they would
start out of his head. The send of the sea was driving the boat's head
round to starboard. If we struck the line of breakers fifty yards to
starboard of the gap we must sink. It was a great field of twisting,
spouting waves. Mahomed planted his foot against the seat before him,
and, glancing at him, I saw his brown toes spread out like a hand with
the weight he put upon them as he took the strain of the tiller. She
came round a bit, but not enough. I roared to Job to back water,
whilst I dragged and laboured at my oar. She answered now, and none
too soon.
Heavens, we were in them! And then followed a couple of minutes of
heart-breaking excitement such as I cannot hope to describe. All that
I remember is a shrieking sea of foam, out of which the billows rose
here, there, and everywhere like avenging ghosts from their ocean
grave. Once we were turned right round, but either by chance, or
through Mahomed's skilful steering, the boat's head came straight
again before a breaker filled us. One more--a monster. We were through
it or over it--more through than over--and then, with a wild yell of
exultation from the Arab, we shot out into the comparative smooth
water of the mouth of sea between the teeth-like lines of gnashing
waves.
But we were nearly full of water again, and not more than half a mile
ahead was the second line of breakers. Again we set to and bailed
furiously. Fortunately the storm had now quite gone by, and the moon
shone brightly, revealing a rocky headland running half a mile or more
out into the sea, of which this second line of breakers appeared to be
a continuation. At any rate, they boiled around its foot. Probably the
ridge that formed the headland ran out into the ocean, only at a lower
level, and made the reef also. This headland was terminated by a
curious peak that seemed not to be more than a mile away from us. Just
as we got the 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 to shut his eyes and keep quiet, which he did
without in the slightest degree realizing the position. As for myself,
his reference to chapel made me reflect, with a sort of sick longing,
on my comfortable rooms at Cambridge. Why had I been such a fool as to
leave them? This is a reflection that has several times recurred to me
since, and with an ever-increasing force.
But now again we were drifting down on the breakers, though with
lessened speed, for the wind had fallen, and only the current or the
tide (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
pious ejaculation 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 steering and the air-tight compartments saved our lives. In
five minutes we were through, and drifting--for we were too exhausted
to do anything to help ourselves except keep her head straight--with
the most startling rapidity round the headland which I have described.
Round we went with the tide, until we got well under the lee of the
point, 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 heavy sea that had been occasioned by the squall, and the tide,
which had been running so fiercely up the river (for we were now in
the mouth of a river), was sluggish before it turned, so we floated
quietly, and before the moon went down managed to bail out the boat
thoroughly and get her a little ship-shape. Leo was sleeping
profoundly, and on the whole I thought it wise not to wake him. It was
true he was sleeping in wet clothes, 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 vigorous constitution. Besides, we had no dry
ones at hand.
Presently the moon went down, and left us floating on the waters, now
only heaving like some troubled woman's breast, with leisure to
reflect upon all that we had gone through and all that we had escaped.
Job stationed himself at the bow, Mahomed kept his post at the tiller,
and I sat 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 like
some sweet bride into her chamber, and long veil-like shadows crept up
the sky through which the stars peeped shyly out. Soon, however, they
too began to pale before a splendour in the east, and then the
quivering footsteps of the dawn came rushing across the new-born blue,
and shook the high stars from their places. Quieter and yet more quiet
grew the sea, quiet as the soft mist that brooded on her bosom, and
covered up her troubling, as the illusive wreaths of sleep brood upon
a pain-racked mind, causing it to forget its sorrow. From the east to
the west sped the angels of the Dawn, from sea to sea, from mountain-
top to mountain-top, scattering light with both their hands. On they
sped out of the darkness, perfect, glorious, like spirits of the just
breaking from the tomb; on, over the quiet sea, over the low
coastline, and the swamps beyond, and the mountains above them; over
those who slept in peace and those who woke in sorrow; over the evil
and the good; over the living and the dead; over the wide world and
all that breathes or has breathed thereon.
It was a wonderfully beautiful sight, and yet sad, perhaps, from the
very excess of its beauty. The arising sun; the setting sun! There we
have the symbol and the type of humanity, and all things with which
humanity has to do. The symbol and the type, yes, and the earthly
beginning, and the end also. And on that morning this came home to me
with a peculiar force. The sun that rose to-day for us had set last
night for eighteen of our fellow-voyagers!--had set everlastingly for
eighteen whom we knew!
The dhow had gone down with them, they were tossing about among the
rocks and seaweed, so much human drift on the great ocean of Death!
And we four were saved. But one day a sunrise will come when we shall
be among those who are lost, and then others will watch those glorious
rays, and grow sad in the midst of beauty, and dream of Death in the
full glow of arising Life!
For this is the lot of man. _
Read next: CHAPTER V - THE HEAD OF THE ETHIOPIAN
Read previous: CHAPTER III - THE SHERD OF AMENARTAS
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