They tried to hold a conversation with the Reis, between lingua Franca and the Provençal 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 Télémaque. 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 Hébert, 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 Æneas’ 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.