You will fancy me to have been in a state of extreme terror at this moment. Such, however, was not the case. I had not the slightest fear for my own safety: not that I was redeemed from the common lot by any superior courage, but simply that I had confidence in my resources . Though sufficiently reckless in my temperament, I have never been a fatalist. I have saved my life more than once by acts of volition by presence of mind and adroitness. The knowledge of this has freed me from the superstitions of fore-ordination and fatalism; and therefore, when not too indolent, I take precautions against danger.
I had done so on the occasion of which I am writing. In my portmanteau I carried I do so habitually a very simple contrivance, a life-preserver. I always carry it in such a position as to be ready to the hand. It is but the work of a moment to adjust this, and with it around my body I feel no fear of being plunged into the broadest river, or even a channel of the sea. It was the knowledge of this, and not any superior courage, that supported me.
I ran back to my state-room the portmanteau was open and in another moment I held the
piece of quilted cork in my hands. In a few seconds its strap was over my head, and the strings securely knotted around my waist.
Thus accoutred, I stood inside the state-room, intending to remain there till the wreck should sink nearer the surface of the water. Settling rapidly as it was, I was convinced I should not have long to wait. I closed the inner door of the room, and turned the bolt. The outer one I held slightly ajar, my hand firmly clutching the handle.
I had my object in thus shutting myself up. I should be less exposed to the view of the terror-stricken wretches that ran to and fro like spectres for any fear I now had was of them not of the water. I knew that, should the life-preserver be discovered, I should have a crowd around me in a moment in fact, that escape by such means would be hopeless. Dozens would follow me into the water would cling to my limbs would drag me, in their despairing grasp, to the bottom!
I knew this; and, clutching the Venetian door with firmer grasp, I stood peering through the apertures in stealthy silence.
Chapter Thirteen Blessé.
The conversation passing between them was not a dialogue, but a series of exclamations the hurried language of terror. The old man had got together a few cabin chairs; and with trembling hands was endeavouring to bind them together, with the design of forming a raft. He had no other cord than a handkerchief, and some strips of silk, which his young mistress was tearing from her dress! It would have been but a feeble raft, had it been completed not fit to have floated a cat. It was but the effort of the drowning man catching at straws. I saw at a glance that it would afford to neither of them the respite of a minutes life. The chairs were of heavy rosewood; and, perchance, would have gone to the bottom of themselves!
The scene produced upon me an impression indescribably strange. I felt myself standing upon a crisis. I felt called upon to choose between self and self-sacrifice. Had the choice left no chance of saving my own life, I fear I should have obeyed the first law of nature; but, as already stated, of my own life I felt secure; the question was, whether it would be possible for me also to save the lady?
I reasoned rapidly, and as follows; The life-preserver a very small one will not sustain us both! What if I fasten it upon her, and swim alongside? A little help from it now and then will be sufficient to keep me afloat. I am a good swimmer. How far is it to the shore?
I looked in that direction. The glare of the blazing boat lit up the water to a wide circumference. I could see the brown bank distinctly. It was full a quarter of a mile distant, with a sharp cross-current running between it and the wreck.
Surely I can swim it? thought I: sink or swim, I shall make the attempt to save her!
I will not deny that other reflections passed through my mind as I was forming this resolve. I will not deny that there was a little French gallantry mixed up with better motives. Instead of being young and lovely, had Mademoiselle Besançon been old and plain, I think that is I I fear she would have been left to Antoine and his raft of chairs! As it was, my resolve was made; and I had no time to reflect upon motives.
Mademoiselle Besançon! I called out of the door.
Ha! Some one calls me; said she, turning suddenly. Mon Dieu! who is there?
One who, Mademoiselle
Peste ! muttered the old steward, angrily, as his eyes fell upon my face. He was under the belief that I wished to share his raft.
Peste ! he repeated; twill not carry two, monsieur.
Nor one, I replied. Mademoiselle, I continued, addressing myself to the lady; those chairs will not serve, they will rather be the means of drowning you, here take this! it will save your life.
As I spoke I had pulled off the preserver, and held it towards her.
What is this? she inquired hastily; and then, comprehending all, she continued, No no no, Monsieur! Yourself yourself!