It was evident that she could not wear out the storm. Every moment she rose less buoyantly. Her rudder gone, she was tossed at the mercy of the billows. The merchant wrung his hands in agony; tears streamed down his cheeks, and his eyes were fixed upon the convulsed ocean with an expression of horror. Eiz-ood-Deen, on the contrary, gazed with a sullen calmness on the terrifying scene. He spoke not; he put up no prayer to Heaven; no silent aspiration rose from his heart to his lips, but he looked with a stern apathy at the death which he every moment expected.
A sudden reel of the vessel now brought her up against a wave which dashed with a terrific shock over her bow, that made her whole frame vibrate. The shock was so great that it forced up the lid of the tiger’s cage, and left the terrified animal to its freedom. Alarmed at the tremendous concussion, it leaped from its prison, and, bounding forward, seated itself upon the roof of the cabin; but the vessel taking a sudden lurch, and at the same moment another huge billow dashing over its bows, with a loud roar of terror the affrighted beast sprang into the deep. The crisis had now come. Another wave struck the vessel on her quarter, a lengthened crash followed, her seams divided, and, after one heavy roll, she went down with a hiss and a gurgle, as the yawning vortex opened before her, that mingled fearfully with the shrieks of her despairing crew while they were drawn into the abyss which closed over them, the clamorous elements singing their requiem as they sank into one common grave.
A spar had separated from the vessel as she went down, and floated free upon the waters. The merchant and his son had both leaped into the sea, and after a few desperate struggles each grasped the spar, but the old man’s exhaustion prevented him from holding it securely. The water bore him from his hold, and the agonized son saw him struggle in vain to reach it. Quitting the spar, he swam towards his father. The merchant threw out his arms with desperate energy to keep himself above the surface, but every wave covered him. He shrieked, the water filled his mouth; again he shrieked, again the fierce waters stopped his cry, another and another struggle—there was a stifled moan. At length his arms fell, his senses faded, he became still.
At this moment the son reached him, but too late. He had begun to sink. There was no object on the surface. The spar rolled again near Eiz-ood-Deen, and he grasped it with the clutch of desperation. He was nearly exhausted, but with an instinctive desire of life, which they only can apprehend who have beheld death before them in an array of horror, he lashed himself to the spar with his turban, hoping that, should the storm abate, he might be rescued from his peril by some vessel, or cast on shore; for though the density of the mist prevented the eye seeing objects beyond a few yards, yet he felt satisfied that he could not be far from the coast. Perilous as his situation was, hope did not desert him; and he who had looked at the approach of death with indifference while there appeared a reasonable chance of escape, now shunned it with a fierce instinct of preservation, when its triumph seemed almost reduced to a certainty. He had not been long lashed to the spar when, through the uproar of the tempest, he heard a strange noise behind him, and turning his head, to his consternation beheld the tiger making its way towards him through the raging waters. It snorted and panted with its exertions; still it raised its noble head amid the waves, rising above them with a buoyancy beautiful to behold, in spite of the painful apprehensions with which it was accompanied. In a few moments the tiger reached the spar, and placed its fore paws upon it, close by the side of the merchant’s son. It offered him no violence, but, looking wildly in his face, seemed to eye him with an expression of sympathy, as if acknowledging a fellowship of suffering. Emboldened by the forbearance of the noble animal, Eiz-ood-Deen laid his hand gently upon its head. The tiger depressed its ears, gave a loud kind of purr, and crept closer to the side of its companion.
Though frequently covered by the billows, Eiz-ood-Deen had lashed himself to the spar too securely to be shaken off, and the strong claws of the tiger kept it from a similar contingency. After being tossed about for upwards of three hours, at the imminent peril of his life, the merchant’s son and his feline associate were dashed on shore near the mouth of the Indus.
CHAPTER III.
Eiz-ood-Deen was so exhausted on being cast upon the strand, that when he had disengaged himself from the spar and crawled up the beach beyond the reach of the surf, he fell into a profound sleep. When he awoke, the tempest had almost entirely subsided; and to his astonishment he found the tiger at his side with one of its paws upon his breast and looking steadfastly in his face. The recollection that they had been companions in peril, and the favourable manner in which the ferocious creature had received his caress upon the spar amidst the turbulence of the excited ocean, abated his apprehensions of the animal’s hostility, which seemed to have forsaken its natural instincts, and he laid his hand fearlessly upon its head. The tiger instantly purred, rolled upon its back, and exhibited marked symptoms of delight, rubbing its broad forehead against Eiz-ood-Deen’s face, and spreading out its capacious tongue as if to show him the tenderness of a tiger’s caress. This was an exceedingly welcome indication of good fellowship to the merchant’s son; nevertheless he could not help fearing that when hunger should remind the voracious beast of the necessity of appeasing its natural longing, it might take a fancy to him for its first meal.
He was so bruised by the spar to which he had been attached when cast upon the beach, and moreover his strength was so reduced by his long and arduous struggles, that he could not proceed in search of some friendly habitation; he therefore bent his way towards the nearest jungle, to which the tiger leisurely followed, being determined there to pass the night and seek out an asylum the following day. As evening advanced, he crept into a thicket, and heaping some dry jungle-grass under a tree, threw himself upon it. The tiger quitted him; and he concluded that having found a congenial retreat, it had gone in search of a supper, which he hoped would prevent him from being distinguished by so flattering a preference as he had apprehended.
He had now time to reflect upon his bereaved condition. All his fathers property had been put on board the vessel, and all had therefore gone to the bottom, save a few jewels which the wary merchant had caused him to secrete about his person for the sake of security, in case the crew should turn pilferers and practically illustrate the doctrine of appropriation. The old man had stowed his most valuable gems within the folds of his own turban, which went to the bottom with him; so that of all his immense wealth a trifling wreck only was preserved by the son, who was now a comparative beggar in a strange country, with the habits of which he was not familiar, and towards the inhabitants of which he felt no sympathy. His future prospects were none of the brightest. Although he had escaped death under its most fearful aspect, he possessed nothing in his own estimation to render life desirable. He had been cut off from all that was dear to him in the world, and there remained nothing to enhance the world to him. He thought upon his parent’s lamentable end, and wept. The dreadful fate of the Parsee girl rushed like the simoon blast across his heart and wrung it with intense agony. He wondered why he had not courted death amid the howling storm, and could scarcely account for his having used such endeavours to preserve a worthless and miserable existence: but he felt that he was called upon to struggle through the difficulties by which he was beset; and the pride of resistance at length rousing his spirit, he resolved to rise superior to his destiny, and exert all his energies to lift himself from the depression into which a course of concurrent but hostile circumstances had plunged him.
He arose as soon as the broad light had made its way through the thick growth of the forest, when to his surprise he found the tiger again at his side. Its jowls were streaked with blood; and, from the roundness which its flanks exhibited, it was evident to him that it had not gone without its evening meal. It fawned before him with a fondness that won his interest for the noble beast, which wagged its tail, advanced into the thicket, then stopped and looked back, as if inviting him to follow. There was an earnestness in the animal’s motions which determined the merchant’s son to see whither it would lead him. Perceiving him prepared to follow, the tiger bounded forward with a suppressed roar. After passing through a portion of the forest where the growth was unusually thick, his dumb guide suddenly stopped, and Eiz-ood-Deen advancing perceived the tiger standing over the mangled body of a buffalo recently slain. A portion of it had been eaten—the whole of the intestines: but the most fleshy parts remained entire. Eiz-ood-Deen drew a sharp double-bladed dagger, which he always carried in his cummerbund; and cutting off a slice from one of the haunches, returned to the spot where he had passed the night. Having kindled a fire, he broiled the meat; and climbing a cocoa-nut tree that grew near the beach at the edge of the jungle, he gathered several nuts, which afforded him a refreshing beverage, and was thus considerably refreshed by his morning’s repast. The tiger lay at his feet and slept. Instead of feeling any terror in the presence of this powerful and ferocious creature, he was animated by a confidence that tended much to quiet the morbid anxieties of his mind. He felt a security against aggression, which gave a stimulus to his determination to grapple manfully with circumstances; and he began to think that he was still born to be a distinguished man.