Under this belief, men of a despairing turn of mind would have ceased to exert themselves, and yielded to a fate that appeared almost certain to ensue.
But neither the English sailor nor the Coromantee sea-cook were individuals of the yielding kind. They were both made of sterner stuff,—and even when the chase was undoubtedly going against them, they were heard muttering to each other words of encouragement, and a mutual determination never to lay down their oars, so long as six feet of water separated them from their unpitying pursuers.
“No,” ejaculated the sailor, “it ’ud be no use. They’d show us no more marcy than so many sharks. I know it by their ways. Don’t lose a stroke, Snowy. We may tire ’em out yet.”
“Nebba fear fo’ me, Massa Brace!” replied the Coromantee. “A keep pullin’ so long’s de be a poun’ o’ trength in ma arms, or a bit o’ breff in ma body. Nebba fear!”
It might appear as though the crew of the Catamaran were now contending against fate, and without hope. This, however, was not the case; for there was still something like a hope to cheer them on, and nerve them to continue their exertions. What was it?
The answer to this interrogatory would have been found by anyone who could have looked upon the sea,—at some distance astern of the chase.
There might have been observed an appearance upon the water, which betokened it different from that through which they were making their way.
It resembled a dark, shadowy line, extending athwart the horizon. It might not have attracted the notice of an ordinary observer, but to the eye of Ben Brace,—as he sat by his oar facing it,—that dark line had a peculiar signification.
He knew that it denoted rougher water, and a stiffer breeze than that blowing upon them; and from this, as well as the clouds fast gathering astern, he knew there was a wind coming from that quarter.
He had imparted his observation to Snowball, and it was this that continued to inspire them with a hope of ultimate escape. Both believed that, with a strong wind in their favour, they would have the advantage of the pursuer; and so, while still bending all their energies to the propulsion of the Catamaran, they kept their eyes almost continually fixed upon the sea astern,—even with a more anxious glance than that with which they regarded their pursuers.