The Rising of the Tide: The Story of Sabinsport

by Ida M. Tarbell

The Serbian woman had learned in the months at Valievo that in the opinion of English and Americans at least, fresh air, warmth and cleanliness were essential if the sick were to recover, and in spite of the protestations of the inhabitants in regard to air she saw to it, with almost religious zeal, that Nancy had all three. Great goat skins made her a soft, warm bed; a roaring fire burned day and night in the fireplace; and on the hearth there was always a big jar of hot water.

After many days of fever and delirium, the girl began to rally, to know them, to understand where she was; and with consciousness came courage, and she lent her help to theirs.

Reuben Cowder, spending his time and money and wits in inventing devices to hasten Nancy’s recovery, never could understand how anything but a miracle had saved her life, cut off as she was from everything that to him seemed essential. He little understood the power of resistance to death in Nancy herself, and he gave nothing like their due to the bracing mountain air the girl was breathing and the goat’s milk and venison broth on which she was feeding.

The real miracle had been their escape from the mountains to the shore. Nikola Petrovitch had not waited for Nancy to rally to make his plans for the hazardous journey. He was dominated by the fear that sooner or later the Austrians might reach this hiding place, that he might be killed. What, then, would become of Nancy? He must get her to the sea.

The project was not so wild as it would seem. The band of soldiers who had accompanied him to the hamlet was one of numerous bands that, breaking away from the main army in its flight, had taken refuge in remote places in the mountains of western Serbia and in the Albanian hills. Communications were soon established between these groups. Secret routes for messages were opened. It was not long before they all had learned of the rapid sweep of the enemy into Montenegro and Albania, of the escape of their king and a portion of the people into Corfu, of the setting up there of the Serbian Government, and of the plans already afoot to rebuild the army.

Taking advantage of the opening connections, Nikola planned with the soldiers for getting Nancy out as soon as she was able to be carried. When, late in December, she began to sit up a little, he put his plan before her, told her of the groups scattered from point to point, which could be used as resting places, as refuges in case of need. These groups would know the best routes to follow, would send guides with them, would provide food. If she would risk it, he felt that they should begin the journey at once.

Weak as Nancy was in body, she was indomitable in spirit and welcomed the venture.

They wrapped her like a mummy in goat-skins, put her into a hammock of the same warm covering, and with bundles on their back, started out—two strong Serbian soldiers, the native woman who had never wavered in her devotion from the beginning of the flight, and Nikola, still on his crutches.

Nikola was never tired of telling his Sabinsport friends of the perils and hardships of the journey. To him the marvel was not at all that he and his fellows should have risked their lives, as surely they did; it was that, whatever the danger, the exposure, the privation, the girl they carried never lost heart, never complained, never failed to greet them with smiles. They knew she grew daily weaker and weaker; but they knew, too, she meant to live. Her courage was like a banner to them. It was something they followed—something they must not shame by discouragement or failure. They followed it to the end, reaching Durazzo, as I have told.

To Sabinsport the tale took on the features of some great Odyssey, and it was their Odyssey, for did not both the heroine and the hero to whom she owed her life belong to them? Sabinsport had not yet realized that at that hour every nook and corner of the European continent had its Odyssey.