Relieved from the anxiety with which he had regarded the conflict, little William at once became aware of this new danger,—hence his cry of consternation. Ben Brace either perceived it at the same instant, or else the shout of his protégé had drawn his attention to it; for, quick succeeding the latter, the voice of the sailor went rolling across the water in words of direction intended for the ears of little William.
“Will’m! Will’m!” shouted he, raising his lips above the surface so as to enunciate more distinctly. “For marcy’s sake, lad, lay hold on the steerin’ oar. Try to tack round, or we’re lost one an’ all o’ us!”
At the same instant Snowball sputtered out some very similar orders; but being sadly out of breath from his exertions in the long-continued struggle with the zygaena, what proceeded from his mouth less resembled words than the snorting of a porpoise; and was, in truth, altogether unintelligible.
Little William needed no instructions,—neither to hear nor understand them. He had perceived the danger, and, with intuitive promptness, had commenced taking measures to avoid it. Partly guided by his own thoughts and partly by the directions of Ben Brace, he sprang suddenly towards the steering-oar; and, grasping it in both hands, he worked with all his might to bring the Catamaran about. After a time he succeeded in getting her head as close to the wind as such a craft was capable of sailing, but it soon became evident to him that the manoeuvre would be of little or no avail. Although the raft did not make leeway quite as much as before, still with its great sail, rudely bent as it was, she made sufficient to preserve the distance from the swimmers; and, as William anxiously observed, still slightly increasing. Even Snowball, who, after giving the coup de grâce to the zygaena, had struck direct towards the Catamaran,—even he, unencumbered by aught save his wet shirt and trousers, although easily passing the others in his course, did not appear to gain an inch upon the runaway raft.
It was an anxious time for all parties; and the anxiety reached its height when they perceived, as one and all soon did, that the unmanageable craft was keeping its distance, if not gaining a greater.
That state of things could not continue long. Both the swimmers had already begun to show signs of flagging. Snowball, sea-duck that he was, might have held out a good while; but the sailor, weighted with Lalee, must soon “go under.” Even Snowball could not swim forever; and, unless some incident should arise to change the character of this aquatic chase, and arrest the Catamaran in her leeward course, sooner or later must the Coromantee become also the prey of the all-swallowing ocean.
For several minutes—they seemed hours to all—did the struggle continue between man and Catamaran, without any very great advantage in favour of either. It is true some change had taken place in the relative positions of the parties. The Coromantee, at starting in pursuit of the raft, had been some fathoms in the wake of Ben Brace and his protégé. They were now in his wake, falling, alas! still farther behind him. Unfortunately for all, Snowball, while increasing his distance from them, was not lessening it from the Catamaran; and therefore the advantage he was gaining over the sailor could be of no use, so long as the raft proved swifter as a sailer than he was as a swimmer.
Snowball’s original idea in striking out in pursuit of the Catamaran was to get aboard; and, by making a better use of the steering-oar than he had hitherto done, to bring the craft back within saving distance of the exhausted swimmer. Confident in his natatory powers, he had at first believed this feat to be not only possible, but probable and easy. It was only after several minutes spent in the pursuit, and the distance between him and the Catamaran seemed to grow greater instead of less, that the negro really began to feel anxiety about the result.
This anxiety kept increasing as the minutes passed, and the broad stretch of blue water between him and the Catamaran appeared to grow no narrower, strike out as he would with all the strength of his sinewy arms, and kick as he might with all the muscular energy that lay in his stout legs.
His anxiety became anguish, when, after one of his most vigorous efforts, he believed, or fancied, that all had been in vain, and that the Catamaran had actually gained upon him. Whether fancy or not, it produced conviction in his mind that to overtake the craft was impossible; and all at once he discontinued the attempt. He did not, however, remain stationary in the water. Far from that. On abandoning the pursuit of the Catamaran, he turned like an otter, and looked back in the direction from which he had come. In this direction, nearly two hundred fathoms distant, two dark objects, so close together as to seem one, were visible over the “curl” of the water.