Chapter 10 | A Night of Horrors | Yussuf the Guide

The night came, with the stars seeming to blaze in the clear atmosphere. The skipper had given up the helm to one of his men, and joined the others forward to lie down among the baskets and sleep, as it seemed, while aft, at the professor’s request, Mr Burne and Lawrence lay down to sleep, leaving the others to watch.

The night grew darker, and the water beat and rippled beneath the bows, all else being wonderfully still as the boat glided on.

Yussuf lit his water-pipe, and the professor a cigar, to begin conversing in a low tone, but always watchful of the slightest movement of the men.

A couple of hours had glided away, and then, after being apparently fast asleep, the skipper rose and came aft to speak eagerly to Yussuf, who heard him out, and then turned to the professor.

“The captain says that there is no danger of wreck or storm; that he and his men will watch over you as if you were given over to their safe keeping, and all will be well.”

“Tell the captain that I prefer to sit up and watch the sea and sky,” replied the professor. “When I am tired I will lie down.”

The skipper nodded and smiled, and went forward again, while, after some minutes’ silence, the professor said softly:

“You are quite right to be doubtful, Yussuf, I mistrust that man.”

“Yes,” replied Yussuf in the same tone, “the Greek dog will bite the hand which fed him if he has a chance, but that chance, effendi, he must not have.”

The hours glided on, and some time, perhaps soon after midnight, the skipper rose again from where he had lain apparently asleep, but really watching the speakers attentively, and coming aft this time with one of his men, the sailor at the helm was changed, and the other went forward to throw himself down as if to sleep.

“Will not the effendi lie down and take his rest now?” said the skipper to Yussuf. “The day will not be very long before it comes, and then it is no longer time to sleep.”

Yussuf quietly repeated the man’s words to the professor, who replied coldly:

“Tell the Greek captain that he is paid to convey us to our journey’s end, and that it is not for him to presume to interfere as to the way in which we pass our time. Tell him we know the night from the day.”

Yussuf interpreted the words, and the Greek smiled and replied in the most humble manner that perhaps the English excellency did not know how bad it was for strangers to expose themselves to the night air. That he was anxious about them, and wished them to go into the little cabin to be safe.

“Tell him to mind his own business,” said the professor shortly, and this being interpreted the man slunk forward, and the professor said softly:

“There is no doubt about it, Yussuf; the man is a scoundrel and has bad intentions.”

“He is a pig,” said the Muslim in a low voice full of contempt; “but he and his men will be afraid to show their teeth to your excellencies if we are watchful and take care.”

Towards morning the man came aft again, but he did not speak, and just at sunrise Lawrence awoke to come hurriedly out of the cabin where Mr Burne was still sleeping.

“I thought you would have called us,” he said; “I thought we were to watch.”

“So you are,” said the professor smiling. “How have you slept?”

“Oh, deliciously—all the night. I never do at home, but lie awake for hours.”

“Even in a comfortable bed!”

“Even in a comfortable bed,” replied Lawrence. “But you must be very tired. I’ll call Mr Burne now.”

“No, let him lie. He is a bit of an invalid too. Suppose you go and have a sleep now, Yussuf; my friend here and I will watch.”

The Turk smiled.

“Your servant once went without sleep for six nights in a time of danger. He slept a little upon his horse sometimes. One night without sleep! What is it? A nothing. No, your excellency must not ask me to sleep now. A short time and we shall be ashore, and away from these Greek dogs, who think we are without arms; then thy servant will lie down and sleep for hours. Last night, to-night I shall not sleep.”

The bright morning, the glancing sea, and the soft breeze seemed to take away all the fancies and suspicions of the night. The shore was in sight—the mainland or one of the beautiful Grecian isles, and to make matters more pleasant still Mr Burne was in the most amiable of tempers.

“I must have been out of order when we were crossing the Channel,” he said smiling. “I thought it was sea-sickness, but it could not have been, for I am as well as can be out here in this little boat.”

The professor was almost annoyed with himself for his suspicions about the Greek and his men, for an easier, happier-looking set it would have been impossible to find. They smiled and showed their teeth, as they lounged in the front of the boat or took their turn at the helm, and then picked out some sunny spot where the tall sails cast no shade and slept hour after hour. When they were not smiling or sleeping, they were eating melon, bread, grapes or olives, or watching like dogs to see if any food was going to be given them by the travellers.

The sail was glorious, and at first great way was made, but in the course of the afternoon the wind dropped, and the little vessel hardly moved through the water.

“This is vexatious,” the professor said. “I am anxious to get to our journey’s end.”

“Don’t say that,” said Lawrence, almost reproachfully; “one seems to be so happy, and everything is so delightful out here in the sunshine. I should like to go sailing on like this for ever.”

“If we had some cushions,” put in Mr Burne, who had overheard his remark. “Well, it doesn’t matter to a few days, one way or the other, Preston,” he continued; “we are very comfortable considering, my back’s better, and this is easy travelling, so never mind about Yussuf’s suspicions. All nonsense.”

That day glided away, the brilliant night came, and with it the nervous feeling of all being not as it should be.

Nothing more had been said to Mr Burne till quite evening, but then the professor felt it to be his duty to speak of the suspicion, and did so; but the old lawyer laughed.

“What nonsense, Preston!” he said; “why, the man and his crew are like so many good-tempered gypsy boys. No, sir, I am not going to be scared because the night is coming on. Poor fellows, they are honest enough. That sour Turk—I don’t like the fellow—has been filling our heads with nonsense to make himself seem more important. It’s all right.”

“I hope it is,” said the professor to himself, and in due course he lay down, but not to sleep.

During the day, by a quiet understanding, he and Yussuf had taken it in turns to snatch an hour’s repose, with the result that they were far better prepared to encounter the night than might have been supposed.

“We will lie down, excellency,” Yussuf took the opportunity of whispering; “but one of us must not sleep.”

After a time the old lawyer, who had been leaning back watching the stars from far above till they seemed to dip down in the transparent sea, yawned aloud, and then began to talk in an unknown tongue, using a strange guttural language which for the most part consisted of a repetition, at regular intervals, of the word “Snorruk,” and this had a wonderful effect upon his companions, who had felt listless and drowsy after the hot day; but the coolness of the night and the interesting nature of Mr Burne’s discourse effectually banished sleep, and hence it was that, when the skipper and a couple of his men came stealing aft to apparently change the steersman, the professor sat up, and Lawrence saw that Yussuf was wide awake and on the qui vive.

This occurred three times, and then the rosy morning lit up the tops of the distant mountains, and made the sea flash as if it were all so much molten topaz.

A pleasant listless day followed, and another and another, during which the travellers slept in turn, and watched the various islands seem to rise out of the sea, grow larger, and then, after they were passed, sink down again into the soft blue water.

It was a delicious dreamy time, the only drawbacks being the suspicions of the boatmen, and the cramped nature of the space at disposal.

They sailed on and on now, with the water surging beneath their bows and the little vessel careening over in the brilliant sunshine; but they were still far from their destination, and now the question had arisen whether it would not be wise to put in at the principal port of Cyprus, which they were now nearing, to obtain more provisions, as the wind was so light that the prospect of their reaching Ansina that night was very doubtful.

The evening had come on, with the sun going down in the midst of a peculiar bank of clouds that would have looked threatening to experienced eyes; but to the travellers it was one scene of glory, the edges of the vapours being of a glowing orange, while the sky and sea were gorgeous with tints that were almost painful in their dazzling sheen. There was not a breath of wind, not a sound upon the smooth sea. The sails hung motionless, and the heat was as oppressive as if those on board were facing some mighty furnace.

“Very, very grand!” said Mr Burne at last, after he had sat with the others for some time silently watching the glorious sight; “but to my mind there’s too much of it. I should like to have it spread over months, a little bit every night, not like this, all at once.”

“Oh, Mr Burne!” cried Lawrence reproachfully.

“I once saw a pantomime many years ago, when I took some of my sister’s children to a box I was foolish enough to pay for. This reminds me of one of the scenes, only there are no sham fairies and stupid people bobbing about and standing on one leg. Just when everything was at the brightest a great dark curtain came down, and it was all over, and it seems to be coming here, only it’s coming up instead of coming down. Heigho—ha—hum! how sleepy I am!”

He lay down as he spoke close under the low bulwark, and as he did so Lawrence glanced forward and saw that the gorgeous sunset had no charms for the sailors, for they were lying among the baskets fast asleep, their faces upon their arms, while, upon looking aft, the man at the helm was crouched up all of a heap sleeping heavily.

“It is very beautiful,” said the professor; “but I daresay some of our English sunsets are nearly as bright, only we do not notice them, being either shut up or too busy to look.”

“Doesn’t this curious stuffy feeling of heat make you feel drowsy, Mr Preston?” said Lawrence, after a few minutes’ silence, “or do I feel it because I am weak with being ill so long?”

“My dear boy,” replied the professor laughing, “at the present moment I feel as if all my bones had been dissolved into so much gristle. It is the heat, my lad, the heat.”

Lawrence lay back upon the deck with his head resting upon a pillow formed out of a doubled-up coat. He had tried going below, but the little cabin was suffocating. It was as if the bulkheads and deck had imbibed the sun’s heat all day and were now slowly giving it out. To sleep there would have been impossible, and he had returned on deck bathed in perspiration to try and get a breath of air.

As he lay there he could see the old lawyer sleeping heavily, the professor with his head resting upon his hand, and his face glorified by the reflection from sea and sky, and their guide Yussuf seated cross-legged smoking placidly at his water-pipe, his dark eyes seeming to glow like hot coals.

Beyond him lay the Greek and his men upon their faces, motionless as the man at the helm, and then all at once the muttering bubbling noise made by Yussuf’s pipe seemed to be coming from the old lawyer’s parted lips, and the pipe, instead of justifying its name of “hubble-bubble,” kept on saying snorruk—snorruk, after the fashion of Mr Burne. Finally, there was nothing—nothing at all but sleep, deep, heavy, satisfying sleep that might have lasted one hour, two hours, any length of time. It seemed as if there was no dreaming, till all at once Lawrence imagined that the professor was bitterly angry with him for getting better that he jumped up and kicked him violently, and that then, as he tried to rise, he stamped upon him, and the stamp made a loud report. He was awake.

Awake, but in a dazed, puzzled state, for all was pitchy dark, and as he jumped up he was knocked down again, and would have gone over the side had he not struck against and clung to one of the ropes which supported the mast.

About him a terrible struggle was going on; there was heavy, hoarse breathing; men were trampling here and there with falls and struggles upon the scrap of a deck.

Then Lawrence turned cold, for there was a yell and a splash, followed directly after by a blinding flash of light and a loud report.

The struggle went on for a few moments longer, seemed to cease, and a voice that he recognised said some words hastily in Greek, which were replied to in hoarse panting tones.

Then the professor’s welcome voice arose out of the pitchy darkness.

“Lawrence! Lawrence! where are you?”

Before an answer could be given there was the dull thud of a heavy blow, and the professor roared more than spoke the one word:

“Coward!”

The struggle was resumed for a moment or two, while the Greek skipper yelled out some order; but before it could be executed there came from out of the darkness a sharp hiss and a loud roar. Lawrence felt himself drenched by what seemed to be a cutting tempest of rain, and then it was as if some huge elastic mass had struck the boat, capsizing it in an instant. The lad felt that he was beneath the surface of the water, the sudden plunge clearing his faculties and making him strike for the surface.

As he rose he had touched a rope, which he caught at with the instinctive clutch of a drowning man, and found that it was attached to something which enabled him to keep his head above the water, but how it was or what it all meant he could not comprehend in the midst of the deafening rushing noise of the wind and the beating stinging blows of the surf that was flying over him.

All at once from out of the darkness a hand seemed to be stretched forth and to grasp him by the collar of the light Norfolk jacket he wore.

In spite of himself he uttered a cry of horror, but the grasp was not inimical, for he felt that he was drawn up on to what seemed to be a heaving piece of woodwork, and then a strong arm was passed round him, a man’s breast pressed him down, and the rush and roar and confusion increased.

There were times when he could scarcely breathe, the wind and spray stifling him till he could turn by an effort a little aside. Then for long periods together, as they seemed, they were under water, as some wave leaped over them. In fact, after a few such experiences he was half insensible, and every struggle towards recovery was met by a new attack.

How long it lasted the lad never knew; all he could comprehend was that he was floating upon something in the midst of a wildly tempestuous sea, and that the wind and spray seemed to have combined to tear him from where his feeble efforts were aided by a strong man’s arm.

Once or twice he fancied he heard a shout, but he could not be sure, and he could make no effort to understand his position, for the storm that had stricken the boat so suddenly robbed him more and more of the power to move.

It was like another waking from sleep, to feel that his head was being raised a little more from where it drooped, and someone pressed a pair of lips to his ear and spoke.

He could not answer, he could not even move, for though the voice was familiar, its import did not reach his brain, and he lay perfectly inert till it seemed as if the sea and wind were not beating so hard upon his face, and that he could breathe more easily.

Then it was not so dark, for the stars were coming out, and he found himself gazing at a great black veil that was being drawn over the heavens.

The next thing he heard was a voice, a familiar voice, speaking, and another which he recognised, and which came from close by, answered, but what was said he could not tell.

There was another confused half-dreamy time, and then it was comparatively light. The spray had ceased to beat, and the mass of wood upon which he had been dragged was rising and falling in a regular drowsy rocking fashion, while now he felt bitterly cold.

“I cannot get to you, Yussuf,” said the familiar voice again. “If I attempt to move he will slip off into the water. Safe?”

“He is alive!” came in a low deep voice from close by Lawrence’s ear, and then there was a fierce puff of wind again, and with it the dreamy sensation once more.