That waits on growth and action shall proceed
With everlasting Concord hand in hand.”
The commander of the Salapiæ anxiously paced the dark, slippery deck, occasionally halting to encourage the sailors, or direct in the movement of some heavy piece of the cargo which was to be cast overboard, to lighten, so far as possible, the stricken ship. The shrill creaking of the pumps, as they were unceasingly worked in the prevailing darkness, sounded as might the sighs and moans of malignant fiends, who were derisively gloating over the rich prey of which they already felt sure.
Another signal from below caught the quick ear of Vivian, and he proceeded to the small tube which led down to the hold, and bending over he heard in sepulchral tones,—
“Two cubita and a half!”
“The gods be merciful!” he exclaimed to himself. “Nothing less than their interposition can save us!”
The hoarse vibrations of the surrounding tempest were [pg 281]mingled with its shriller tones produced by its hissing sweep through the shattered spars and rigging, all combining, like the different instruments in a great orchestra, to render a grand minor symphony of Woe and Despair.
By great exertion they were able to raise a little more canvas, as the only hope lay in making Tarsus, or some other port on the Cilician coast, toward which the wind was sweeping them. Though much more distant than Salamis, which they had left behind, there was no choice. They could go only where they were driven. The gods were invoked and libations poured, that the gale, which at first had brought them disaster, might continue. Could they make Tarsus before the Salapiæ would fill and go to the bottom?
The panic and confusion which had prevailed among the crew of many races gradually subsided, and a grim desperation settled down upon all. Each worked with a dogged, sullen intensity, as though the fate of all depended upon his own persistency of effort.
To actually face death sometimes seems to inspire a kind of stolid indifference. Even to the ignorant and worldly man the vital fact comes home that it can come but once, and that, after all, the peculiar time and means of the most universal of all human experiences are not so very important. The divine economy of the human constitution is such that when the great Fact looms up in the near foreground, there is often an unwonted serenity and confidence that are lacking in lesser trials, or even in its own more distant anticipation.