The ship was now so low in the water that by using an oar as a lever he could slide her into the waves.
"Come," said he, "while yet there is time."She turned her great Roman eyes, wet now, upon him."Poor youth! -God forgive me! - My child!" And he launched her on the surge, and with his oar kept her from being battered against the ship.
A heavy hand fell on him; a deep sonorous voice sounded in his ear: "'Tis well.Now come with me."It was the gigantic friar.
Gerard turned, and the friar took two strides, and laid hold of the broken mast.Gerard did the same, obeying him instinctively.
Between them, after a prodigious effort, they hoisted up the remainder of the mast, and carried it off."Fling it in," said the friar, "and follow it." They flung it in; but one of the bewildered passengers had run after them, and jumped first and got on one end.Gerard seized the other, the friar the middle.
It was a terrible situation.The mast rose and plunged with each wave like a kicking horse, and the spray flogged their faces mercilessly, and blinded them: to help knock them off.
Presently was heard a long grating noise ahead.The ship had struck, and soon after, she being stationary now, they were hurled against her with tremendous force.Their companion's head struck against the upper part of the broken rudder with a horrible crack, and was smashed like a cocoa-nut by a sledge-hammer.He sunk directly, leaving no trace but a red stain on the water, and a white clot on the jagged rudder, and a death cry ringing in their ears, as they drifted clear under the lee of the black hull.The friar uttered a short Latin prayer for the safety of his soul, and took his place composedly.They rolled along; one moment they saw nothing, and seemed down in a mere basin of watery hills: the next they caught glimpses of the shore speckled bright with people, who kept throwing up their arms with wild Italian gestures to encourage them, and the black boat driving bottom upwards, and between it and them the woman rising and falling like themselves.
She had come across a paddle, and was holding her child tight with her left arm, and paddling gallantly with her right.
When they had tumbled along thus a long time, suddenly the friar said quietly -"I touched the ground."
"Impossible, father," said Gerard; "we are more than a hundred yards from shore.Prithee, prithee, leave not our faithful mast.""My son," said the friar, "you speak prudently.But know that Ihave business of Holy Church on hand, and may not waste time floating when I can walk, in her service.There I felt it with my toes again; see the benefit of wearing sandals, and not shoon.
Again; and sandy.Thy stature is less than mine: keep to the mast!
I walk." He left the mast accordingly and extending his powerful arms, rushed through the water.Gerard soon followed him.At each overpowering wave the monk stood like a tower, and closing his mouth, threw his head back to encounter it, and was entirely lost under it awhile: then emerged and ploughed lustily on.At last they came close to the shore; but the suction outward baffled all their attempts to land.Then the natives sent stout fishermen into the sea, holding by long spears in a triple chain; and so dragged them ashore.
The friar shook himself, bestowed a short paternal benediction on the natives, and went on to Rome, with eyes bent on earth according to his rule, and without pausing.He did not even cast a glance back upon that sea, which had so nearly engulfed him, but had no power to harm him, without his Master's leave.
While he stalks on alone to Rome without looking back, I who am not in the service of Holy Church, stop a moment to say that the reader and I were within six inches of this giant once before; but we escaped him that time.Now I fear we are in for him.Gerard grasped every hand upon the beach.They brought him to an enormous fire, and with a delicacy he would hardly have encountered in the north, left him to dry himself alone: on this he took out of his bosom a parchment, and a paper, and dried them carefully.When this was done to his mind, and not till then, he consented to put on a fisherman's dress and leave his own by the fire, and went down to the beach.What he saw may be briefly related.
The captain stuck by the ship, not so much from gallantry, as from a conviction that it was idle to resist Castor or Pollux, whichever it was that had come for him in a ball of fire.
Nevertheless the sea broke up the ship and swept the poop, captain and all, clear of the rest, and took him safe ashore.Gerard had a principal hand in pulling him out of the water.The disconsolate Hebrew landed on another fragment, and on touching earth, offered a reward for his bag, which excited little sympathy, but some amusement.Two more were saved on pieces of the wreck.The thirty egotists came ashore, but one at a time, and dead; one breathed still.Him the natives, with excellent intentions, took to a hot fire.So then he too retired from this shifting scene.
As Gerard stood by the sea, watching, with horror and curiosity mixed, his late companions washed ashore, a hand was laid lightly on his shoulder.He turned.It was the Roman matron, burning with womanly gratitude.She took his hand gently, and raising it slowly to her lips, kissed it; but so nobly, she seemed to be conferring an honour on one deserving hand.Then with face all beaming and moist eyes, she held her child up and made him kiss his preserver.
Gerard kissed the child more than once.He was fond of children.
But he said nothing.He was much moved; for she did not speak at all, except with her eyes, and glowing cheeks, and noble antique gesture, so large and stately.Perhaps she was right.Gratitude is not a thing of words.It was an ancient Roman matron thanking a modern from her heart of hearts.
Next day towards afternoon, Gerard - twice as old as last year, thrice as learned in human ways, a boy no more, but a man who had shed blood in self-defence, and grazed the grave by land and sea -reached the Eternal City; post tot naufragia tutus.
