CHAPTER XVI.
Hiram's experience enabled him to select the best among the boats, though it was one of the smallest. A package of smoked fish, a pile of thin bread cakes, and a bag of dates sufficiently provisioned his craft; and within a few moments he had pushed from shore.
As he did so he observed two strangers approach the group he had left. They conversed a little with the fishermen, then suddenly turned and watched his receding boat. Though several hundred cubits away, he could not mistake the bearing of one of them, who had not the stiff manner of a man used to toil in the fields, nor the firm but elastic step of a soldier, nor the swinging gate of a sailor, nor yet the dignified grace such as is soon acquired by a merchant, whose attire this man wore. Hiram appreciated the keen detective instinct of Benjamin, for he too could not mistake the priest of Baal under that secular disguise. The mental habit of doing everything by indirection comes to impart itself to the physical motions, just as habitual secretiveness and hypocrisy show themselves in the face. Besides, the temple service calls for little use of the muscles, and an old priest's body is not symmetrically developed. That would-be merchant could have come from nowhere but some temple. His every motion seemed ajerk with the bigotry of his business.
Hiram felt a tinge of pride in his powers of observation that was not, perhaps, fully warranted; for, though he had no recollection of having done so, he had often seen this same man among the priests at Tyre. It was a case of unconscious memory.
The other man was not so unique a specimen; indeed, having seated himself while the other was walking about and gesticulating, he was in better concealment. "But crow flies only with crow, and priest with priest," thought the king.
Hiram had gained two furlongs from the shore, when the men came to the boats and prepared to follow him. Only heavier craft than his were left; but there were two rowers against one. They rigged the long oars, one swivelled on either side of the vessel, and each requiring the full strength of a man to wield it. One oarsman was awkward, but the other, by strength and skill, made up for the deficiency of his comrade, and by an alternate strong pull and back-water dip of the blade kept the boat steadily ploughing ahead, and slowly gaining upon the fugitive.
For Hiram to reach the eastern shore before being overtaken was impossible. He laid his plan. It was this: at the moment of contact to turn suddenly, and with the prow of his boat crash against the oar of the inexpert priest, break it, and glide off, leaving the heavy craft at the disadvantage of having but one propelling blade. The odds would then be with him.
Suddenly a dark shadow fell upon the water near the western shore, just beneath the gap in the hills. The shadow elongated itself like a serpent emerging from its hole. Beneath it the water began to roll in billowy convolutions. The turmoil spread until, within a few moments, the entire lake was transformed into a vast caldron of boiling waters. The storm waves on the Great Sea were higher, but they were also longer, and more readily mounted than these. The Galilee boats, too, were utterly untrimmed for such an emergency, as the fishermen were accustomed to strike for land at the first sign of a storm, and danger made them alert to anticipate it. But to Hiram the wind-blow was a godsend. He invoked Jehovah's blessing, and raised to its place the log that was called a mast, and swung from it the heavy square sail of goat's hair.
Let the storm drive him where it would! He would rather die a victim of the elements than fall under the gloating hatred of Egbalus's crew of demons. But he did not expect to die. The storm-shriek was like a bugle blast, thrilling his courage. He shouted in triumph as he went bounding over the waves. A Tyrian king! A sea king, indeed, was he!
In the exhilaration of the moment he almost forgot his pursuers. But glancing back through the dense spray, he caught a glimpse of a heavy prow not far in his wake. Above it hung a great sail that seemed like some black-winged spirit driving it onward to fulfil its accursed mission. The vessel disappeared an instant in the blinding mist, only to reappear a full length nearer. A moment more, and fate would ring down the curtain upon this tragedy.
But Hiram determined that the exit should be a climax, if there were any ghostly spectators to applaud; and drawing his dagger, he caught it in his teeth, and waited. Fast as they flew, the waves rolled faster, and poured over the low stern of his vessel. Crossing a shoal, the huge billows mounted higher, and one of immense size hovered an instant in air, like the jaw of some great behemoth pursuing its tiny prey, then fell upon the boat, swallowing her in its remorseless maw.
Hiram was prepared for this, and, being a tireless swimmer, kept afloat while he was flung through the breakers. His pursuers came on. Being higher in the stern, the great waves caught and hurled their boat across the shoals. Hiram cursed all the gods when he saw that, and even taunted Jehovah as the hated craft flew past him.
But a moment later he became as pious a Jew as he had been a blasphemer; for the flying boat suddenly stopped; her mast bent forward; she swirled, careened, and sank.
Hiram could not see the shore through the blinding spray, but the billows were wings for him, and he was sure of holding out though the entire lake were to be crossed.
The wind in an instant died away. The spray as quickly ceased to fly from the broken crests of the waves. The billows rolled, but seemed to have lost their force. They lifted him gently, and allowed him to glide onward. The shore was there, not a hundred strokes distant.
But what was his consternation to see, scarcely three boat-lengths from him, a swimmer as strong as he. It became a race for life. Hiram had kept his dagger in his teeth. He dived, intending to come up beneath his antagonist and plunge the blade into his body. But either he miscalculated the distance, or the man, discerning his purpose, had swum out of harm's way.
It was now a question which should first reach the shore and seize his opponent with fatal advantage. Hiram's strokes were tremendous, surpassing those that had won him the match so often in the harbor of Tyre, before the dignities of the crown had forbidden his taking part in such sports. But they were now of no avail. His competitor kept abreast with him. They reached the shore almost at the same moment. Hiram, striking a better footing, was first out of the water. Seizing an enormous stone, he turned to crush the skull of his enemy before he could gain a foothold on the shelving beach.
"My king! My king!" cried the man.
Hiram dropped the stone in bewilderment.
"Hanno! As sure as Baal—as Jehovah lives, it's Hanno!"