“Not to my knowledge. Now, make an end of this insolent catechising. I owe you no account of my proceedings, and I demand a free passage—or, by Pluto!...”
Magus, meanwhile, without speaking a word, had run down to the armory. There he seized a sharp axe, which he tried on the panel of the cabin, and then took the heft firmly between his teeth. While Cornelius Cinna stood disputing with the officer, our friend the Goth glided like a weasel through the port-hole near the rudder, and slid softly into the sea. For a few seconds he lay floating on his back, breathing deeply through the nostrils; then he dived in the clear blue water and came up again close to the rudder of the unsuspecting Charybdis. Again he drew a deep breath; then, swimming with his left hand, he took the axe in his right, and with two or three mighty blows he severed the rope by which the rudder was worked.[75] A broad smile of satisfaction shone on his tanned face; he dropped the axe into the sea and made his way back to the Batavia.
The Goth was out of reach before the enemy’s crew fully understood their disaster. The harpoons and lances they flung after him missed their mark, and he got on board unhurt.
Chrysostomus, the steersman, had at the same time handled his ship very cleverly. The Batavia was now in a position, on her part, to run the foe through the flank with her iron-shod beak so effectually, that he would never have made his way home, for with a loose rudder the Charybdis was of course defenceless. Cinna, however, would not hear of this. He would have fought for freedom—he would not fight for revenge.
Three blows of the hammer, the Batavia’s oars dipped deeply in the waves and she rode majestically away to the westward. The Charybdis did not even attempt to chase her.
The soldier and the captain of the vessel foamed with rage. They had been so sure of their prey, and it had slipped through their fingers when they thought they held it fast. It was their confidence, which had led to their disappointment.
Cornelius Cinna leaned thoughtfully over the taffrail, gazing at the Charybdis as she diminished to a speck, for she had taken a homeward course to Antium. Strange thoughts filled his brain. Was it so easy as this, to make a proud and well-armed vessel incapably helpless? One bold stroke, and she had become unmanageable—was it not the same perhaps with the vessel of State?[76] Could it be so difficult to deal a blow at that ship’s rudder, to board the drifting barque and to pull it at last into the haven of freedom and peace, there to be freshly fitted and manned for a happier voyage in the future?
Magus, of course, was the hero of the hour. He was loaded with thanks and praises, his master embraced him warmly, and gifts were showered upon him; but the honest fellow seemed hardly to understand why so much was made of his achievement. What was the difference, whether he hung over a precipice on some northern shore to gather a rare plant from the rock, or cut his way through the Rugian forests to cast a net over the horns of the aurochs, or climbed to the top-most branches of a primeval oak, or—as he had just done—swam a few paces to thwart a foe? It was all instinctive prompting, nothing meritorious or remarkable.
The rowers set to work with a will, notwithstanding that the imperial trireme was now disabled. The coast was still too close for them to feel sure whence or by whom the pursuit might not be taken up.
After a short council, they decided on taking a course between the little islands of Planasia and Ilva,[77] north of Corsica, to the coast of Gallia Narbonensis, and then to cast anchor in the most unfrequented bay they could find; Athenopolis[78] perhaps, or Olbia.[79] From thence, either separately or together, they could make their way into the interior, and reach Gallia Lugdunensis, where a large number of troops were stationed, some in scattered fortresses, and some in the chief town of the province, Lugdunum on the Rhodanus.[80] Rodumna, on the Liger, the native town of Afranius, was still to be the central point of meeting on a particular day, to be fixed later, unless the conspiracy should through some unforeseen occurrence be broken up.