"Sociability," said Alec, "among seafaring men is pretty general. It is usually 'Hail, fellow, well met!' with us, for we endeavour to get all the fun we can out of life, because we know that whenever he gets the chance, Death will have his gibe at us. A sailor must, of necessity, often face death, and therefore his motto is, 'Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die'; and death does come to him frequently when least he expects it. I'll tell you an instance of this in which I and some of my relatives were concerned.
"Nine miles from the shore of my native village there is a most dreadful sand-bank, in the form of the letter U, which at low tide is frequently bare, while at high tide not more than two fathoms of water cover it. It has been a death-trap to many a stout vessel, and at the time I am speaking of had nothing near it in the form of a lighthouse, lightship, or even a buoy to mark its dread presence. At daybreak on a rough November morning the look-out on duty discovered that a small trading schooner was fast on the sands, and after the usual half-hour's excitement in the village the surf boat, containing eleven men, was launched and proceeded to the wreck. There was quite a little party of my family aboard, as beside myself, the crew also contained my father, brother, and two cousins.
"To make a long story short, I will simply say, that after a three hours' exhausting pull we reached the vessel, but were grieved to find that of the crew of six hands, only one was left alive. Our attention was therefore turned to the saving of this poor sailor, who had lashed himself to the bowsprit, where he had sat all through the cold night, and was so benumbed that he could scarcely speak. We shouted to him, and made him understand that if he would cut his lashings, we would when opportunity served, pull the boat under the bowsprit so that as we glided by he might drop in and be saved. His knife was quickly at work, and to show that he was free he held up his hands and moved himself on the bowsprit. We gave him a cheer, and watching our best time, glided in on the crest of a wave to deliver the poor fellow. Alas! in his excitement he jumped too soon, and dropped between the bows of the vessel and our heavy boat. His head was for a second visible on the surface, but before an arm could be stretched out to save him the two vessels came crash together, with his head between them. A gush of blood was all we saw of him, for the next moment we were all in the sea, struggling for our own lives. Our boat had stove its bows in against the ship, which we had approached too closely, in our endeavour to save the poor man.
"I was fortunate enough to secure an oar, and working gradually to leeward of the wreck, with great exertion at length got aboard, where, to my joy, I found my father. The boat still floated bottom upwards, with five men upon the keel, who were constantly lashed by the cold waves, till presently a larger wave than the others broke the hold of two of the men, and washed them into eternity. Gradually in the swirl and foam of the mighty waters the boat beat round to the leeward of the ship, and I then saw that the men on the keel were my two cousins and brother. They could all swim, and seeing that my father and I were ready with ropes, quitted their precarious seat on the keel, and struck out towards the ship. My brother and cousin Phillipe, after a terrible struggle, were drawn aboard, but Gabriel, who could not swim so strongly, presently became exhausted and cried out for a rope. The distance appeared too far to fling it, but with a powerful swing my father threw the coil, the end of which fell a yard short of the swimmer. If I live a thousand years I shall never forget the look of despair upon my cousin's face as he sank back in the water completely exhausted. As his head disappeared his hand, like an eagle's claw, came above the surface of the water and gave one wild clutch at the rope which should have proved his salvation, then it disappeared also, and he was no more.
"Thus, out of eleven men, only four were saved. Incredible as it may seem, these were all of them relatives—my brother, father, cousin, and self—it was quite a family party. We were taken off the wreck in the afternoon by another boat and safely landed. Ducas was a lucky name that day, and so it proved three years after, for my brother was the only survivor when his fishing boat was run down, and a crew of eight men perished."
Seeing that we had just had one melancholy recital I thought it best to start something more pleasant, so I handed Alec a large mug of coffee, and said:
"Take a drink, my comrade, and while you are slaking your thirst I will spin you a drinking story."
Then I recounted to him the story of Count Tilly of Brabant, and the Holy Prior. How, during one of Tilly's numerous campaigns, a certain town held out far too long for the general's liking, but at last it was forced to surrender. Tilly had six of the chief men brought before him, and commanded, as the town had laughed at his terms, that they should die, to expiate the rest of the citizens. All kinds of conditions were laid before him to avoid the doom of these unfortunate men, but they were of no avail with him; he was implacable. One, Prior Hirsch, sought him and tried to melt his adamantine heart, and being a man of experience with human foibles, concluded to try the effect of some of the good old wine for which the country is famous, and his own monastery in particular. A huge flagon being introduced, filled with some of the very "A1" of the district, Tilly was induced to try some.
"Very good wine indeed," exclaimed the General, "but it is no use your trying to get round me in that way to pardon your burgesses, for I can no more turn from my word than you can empty this goodly flagon at a draught."
"Is the case indeed so hopeless?" said the priest.