Story 8—Chapter 4.
As I came to the surface I caught a glimpse of the shore, and struck out for it, but it seemed far distant. I swam like a man in his sleep; in vain, my strength was failing me, a mist came over my eyes, and I could no longer see the shore, when I felt a powerful hand grasping my shoulder, and ere long was conscious that I had been hauled out of the water and placed high up on the warm sand. I opened my eyes at length, and the first object on which they rested was the vindictive countenance of Owen, as he gazed at me. I say vindictive, because that was the expression which had often puzzled me. Yet why should he nourish such feelings towards me?
“So you are alive, are you?” he remarked, when he saw that I had regained my consciousness. “It might have been better for you had you gone with the rest, for we are the only survivors. However, I had too long a score with you to lose you, if I could bring you on shore safe.”
“Then I am indebted to you for my life,” I remarked.
“Yes, but the debt is not a heavy one, and you may think me entitled to very small thanks; for let me tell you your existence here will be no sinecure. I intend to make you slave and toil for me as you have never toiled before. At length I have you in my power. Ha, ha, ha!” And he laughed wildly. “Your wealth will avail you nothing here, your refinement, your education, your romantic aspirations. You are now my slave, and I your master. Ha, ha, ha!”
This greeting was not calculated to aid my recovery, but, in spite of it, my strength returned, and I was able to get up on my feet.
“I am ready to obey you,” I said calmly. “You saved my life, and it is my duty to serve you as far as I have the power.”
“Always talking of your duty!” he exclaimed, with a sneer. “It shall not be a light one, let me tell you. Now, as you can walk, find some food—shell-fish and water. I don’t ask for impossibilities, but take care you do not touch any till I have eaten.”