smugglers, will prefer selling me to doing a good action. I must
wait. But I cannot —-I am starving. In a few hours my strength will
be utterly exhausted; besides, perhaps I have not been missed at
the fortress. I can pass as one of the sailors wrecked last night.
My story will be accepted, for there is no one left to contradict
me."
As he spoke, Dantes looked toward the spot where the
fishing-vessel had been wrecked, and started. The red cap of one of
the sailors hung to a point of the rock and some timbers that had
formed part of the vessel's keel, floated at the foot of the crag.
In an instant Dantes' plan was formed. He swam to the cap, placed
it on his head, seized one of the timbers, and struck out so as to
cut across the course the vessel was taking.
"I am saved!" murmured he. And this conviction restored his
strength.
He soon saw that the vessel, with the wind dead ahead, was
tacking between the Chateau d'If and the tower of Planier. For an
instant he feared lest, instead of keeping in shore, she should
stand out to sea; but he soon saw that she would pass, like most
vessels bound for Italy, between the islands of Jaros and
Calaseraigne. However, the vessel and the swimmer insensibly neared
one another, and in one of its tacks the tartan bore down within a
quarter of a mile of him. He rose on the waves, making signs of
distress; but no one on board saw him, and the vessel stood on
another tack. Dantes would have shouted, but he knew that the wind
would drown his voice.
It was then he rejoiced at his precaution in taking the timber,
for without it he would have been unable, perhaps, to reach the
vessel — certainly to return to shore, should he be unsuccessful in
attracting attention.
Dantes, though almost sure as to what course the vessel would
take, had yet watched it anxiously until it tacked and stood
towards him. Then he advanced; but before they could meet, the
vessel again changed her course. By a violent effort he rose half
out of the water, waving his cap, and uttering a loud shoutout of the water, waving his cap, and uttering a loud shout
peculiar to sailers. This time he was both seen and heard, and the
tartan instantly steered towards him. At the same time, he saw they
were about to lower the boat.
An instant after, the boat, rowed by two men, advanced rapidly
towards him. Dantes let go of the timber, which he now thought to
be useless, and swam vigorously to meet them. But he had reckoned
too much upon his strength, and then he realized how serviceable
the timber had been to him. His arms became stiff, his legs lost
their flexibility, and he was almost breathless.
He shouted again. The two sailors redoubled their efforts, and
one of them cried in Italian, "Courage!"
The word reached his ear as a wave which he no longer had the
strength to surmount passed over his head. He rose again to the
surface, struggled with the last desperate effort of a drowning
man, uttered a third cry, and felt himself sinking, as if the fatal
cannon shot were again tied to his feet. The water passed over his
head, and the sky turned gray. A convulsive movement again brought
him to the surface. He felt himself seized by the hair, then he saw
and heard nothing. He had fainted.
When he opened his eyes Dantes found himself on the deck of the
tartan. His first care was to see what course they were taking.
They were rapidly leaving the Chateau d'If behind. Dantes was so
exhausted that the exclamation of joy he uttered was mistaken for a
sigh.
As we have said, he was lying on the deck. A sailor was rubbing
his limbs with a woollen cloth; another, whom he recognized as the
one who had cried out "Courage!" held a gourd full of rum to his
mouth; while the third, an old sailer, at once the pilot and
captain, looked on with that egotistical pity men feel for a
misfortune that they have escaped yesterday, and which may overtake
them to-morrow.
A few drops of the rum restored suspended animation, while the
friction of his limbs restored their elasticity.
"Who are you?" said the pilot in bad French.friction of his limbs restored their elasticity.
"Who are you?" said the pilot in bad French.
"I am," replied Dantes, in bad Italian, "a Maltese sailor. We
were coming from Syracuse laden with grain. The storm of last night
overtook us at Cape Morgion, and we were wrecked on these
rocks."
"Where do you come from?"
"From these rocks that I had the good luck to cling to while our
captain and the rest of the crew were all lost. I saw your vessel,
and fearful of being left to perish on the desolate island, I swam
off on a piece of wreckage to try and intercept your course. You
have saved my life, and I thank you," continued Dantes. "I was lost
when one of your sailors caught hold of my hair."
"It was I," said a sailor of a frank and manly appearance; "and
it was time, for you were sinking."
"Yes," returned Dantes, holding out his hand, "I thank you
again."
"I almost hesitated, though," replied the sailor; "you looked
more like a brigand than an honest man, with your beard six inches,
and your hair a foot long." Dantes recollected that his hair and
beard had not been cut all the time he was at the Chateau d'If.
"Yes," said he, "I made a vow, to our Lady of the Grotto not to
cut my hair or beard for ten years if I were saved in a moment of
danger; but to-day the vow expires."
"Now what are we to do with you?" said the captain.
"Alas, anything you please. My captain is dead; I have barely
escaped; but I am a good sailor. Leave me at the first port you
make; I shall be sure to find employment."
"Do you know the Mediterranean?"
"I have sailed over it since my childhood."
"You know the best harbors?"
"There are few ports that I could not enter or leave with a
bandage over my eyes."
"I say, captain," said the sailor who had cried "Courage!" to
Dantes, "if what he says is true, what hinders his staying with
us?"
"If he says true," said the captain doubtingly. "But in his
present condition he will promise anything, and take his chance of
keeping it afterwards."
"I will do more than I promise," said Dantes.