"Hark! what is that?" asked the physician, turning to the back part of the cabin.
"Nothing, but a young friend of mine; he"s asleep, I think."
"Asleep; why he"s moving, and must have overheard us, I am sure."
"No fear."
"But what we have said is no more nor less than downright treason."
"That"s true."
"And would cost us both our heads if it should be reported."
"He wont report it if he has heard it; he bears the Sultan no good-will, I can a.s.sure you, for it is only a day or two since that he was sentenced to death by him for some trivial cause."
"What was it?" asked the Armenian.
"Getting a peep at some of his favorites, I believe, or some such affair."
"Do you remember his name?" asked the Armenian, as the subject of this conversation came out of one of the state-rooms in the cabin, and approached them.
"Yes; he is a Circa.s.sian, named Aphiz Adegah!"
CHAPTER XII.
THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.
Though to the Armenian physician the fact of Aphiz"s being there was nothing remarkable, to the reader we must explain how such a circ.u.mstance could be possible after the scenes we have described; for it will be remembered that we left him at the moment he was sunk in the Bosphorus and left by the officers of the Sultan to drown.
The fact was that the Circa.s.sian"s sentence was more than usually peremptory and sudden, and he was taken at once from the place of confinement and borne away in the boat without his person being searched, or indeed any of the usual precautions in such cases being adopted to prevent accident or the escape of the prisoner. Aphiz submitted without resistance to be placed in the sack, preparatory to being cast into the sea, nor was he ignorant of the fate that was intended to be inflicted upon him, but some confident hope, nevertheless, seemed to support him at the time.
The officers of the prison, not a little surprised at his quiet acquiescence to all their purposes, when all was prepared, cast him, as we have already described, into the sea, and quietly pulled away from the spot. But no sooner did Aphiz find himself immersed in the water than he commenced to cut the bag with his dagger, which he had concealed in his bosom, and as he sank deeper and deeper towards the bottom, quickly to release himself from the restraint of the heavy canvas bag and shot that bore him still down, down, to the fearful depth of the river"s bed.
Aphiz Adegah was born near the sea-sh.o.r.e, and from childhood had been accustomed to the freest exercise in the water. He was therefore an expert and well-practised swimmer, and after he had freed himself from the sack by the vigorous use of his dagger, he gradually rose again to the surface of the water, but taking good care to start away from the spot where he had been cast into the sea, that he might not be observed by those who had been sent there to execute the sentence of death upon him.
Still starting away and swimming under water, he gradually rose to the surface far from the spot where he had first sunk, but after a breath, still fearing detection, he dove again, and deeper and deeper, sought to follow the current, until he should be beyond the possibility of discovery. What a volume of thoughts pa.s.sed through his mind in the few seconds while he was descending in that fearful confinement of the sack, and how vigorously he worked with the edge of his dagger to cut an opening for escape, and when he drew that one long inspiration as he rose to the surface and instantly plunged again, what a relief it was to his aching lungs and overtasked powers! But, as we have said, he was a practised swimmer, knew well his powers, and confidently dove again into the depth of the waters.
As he sank deeper and deeper in this second dive, he found himself suddenly losing all power and control over his body, and he felt as though some invisible arm had seized upon him, and he was being borne away he knew not whither. No effort of his was of the least avail, and on, on, he was borne, and round and round he was turned with the velocity of lightning, until he grew dizzy and faint, and the density of the waters, acting upon the drums of his ears, became almost insupportably painful, imparting a sensation as though the head was between two iron plates, and a screw was being turned which compressed it tighter and tighter every moment.
Though he was in this situation not more than one minute, yet it seemed to him to be an hour of torture, so intense was the agony experienced; and yet it was beyond a doubt his salvation in the end, for he had by chance struck one of those violent undertows that prevail in all these fresh water inland seas, which defy all philosophical calculation, and which bore him with the speed of an arrow for two hundred rods far away from the spot where he had a second time sunk below the surface, until, as he once more rose to the surface, he found himself so far away from the boat that he could not possibly be recognized.
Close by him he heard the strokes and saw the oars of a large man-of-war boat pa.s.sing by the spot where he had risen from his fearful contest with the water. His first impulse was to dive once more, but his efforts with the current he had struck below had seemed to deprive him of the power of all further exertion. The sh.o.r.e was a quarter of a mile distant, and in his exhausted state, he doubted if it was possible for him to reach it. He gave a second look at the boat with longing eyes, his strength was momentarily failing him, he felt that he must either sink or call to those in the boat for a.s.sistance, and while he was thus debating in his own mind, he observed the person who had the helm steer the boat towards him, and in a moment after Aphiz was raised in the arms of the sea men and placed in the bottom of the caique.
Scarcely had he been placed in this position when there commenced throughout his whole system such a combination of fearful and harrowing pains that he almost prayed that he might die, and be relieved from them. He had not the power left in his limbs to move one inch, and yet he felt as though he could roll and writhe all over the boat. The fact was that while exertion was necessary to preserve him from drowning, his instinct and mental faculties combined to support him, and enable the sufferer still to make an effort to preserve his life, but now that no exertion on his part could benefit himself, he was thrown back upon a realization of the consequent suffering induced by his exposure.
The quant.i.ty of water he had swallowed pained him beyond measure, while the action of the dense water upon his brain, and the combined pains he was enduring, rendered him almost deranged. It is said that drowning is the easiest of deaths, but those who have recovered from a state nearly approaching actual death by submersion in the water, describe the sensations of recovery to consciousness to be beyond description, painful and terrible. Those who have for a moment fainted from some sudden cause have partially realized this misery in the anguish caused for an instant by the first breath that accompanies returning consciousness.
All this proved too much for the young Circa.s.sian, and though removed from the immediate cause of danger he fainted with exhaustion. He who commanded the boat was also a young man, and seemed at once to be uncommonly interested in the stranger whom he had rescued from the sea. Neither he nor any of his men suspected how the half drowned man had come there, and adopting such means as his experience suggested, the officer of the boat soon again restored Aphiz to a state of painful consciousness. Realizing the kind efforts that were made for him, the young Circa.s.sian smiled through the trembling features of his face in acknowledgement.
Signing to his men to give way with more speed, the officer soon moored along side one of the Sultan"s sloops-of-war, and in a few moments after the half drowned man was placed in the best berth the cabin afforded.
As to himself, Aphiz had only sufficient consciousness left to realize that he had been most miraculously save from a watery grave, but a bare thought of the suffering he had just pa.s.sed through, was almost too much for him. And leaving chance to decide his future fate, he turned painfully in his cot and was soon lost in sleep.
When the young Circa.s.sian awoke on the following morning he was once more quite himself, being thoroughly refreshed by the long hours he had slept. He thought over the last few days which had been so eventful to him, and wondered what fate was now in store for him.--Of course the generous conduct of Captain Selim, the Sultan"s officer, who had rescued him from drowning, and then hospitably entertained him, was the most spontaneous action of a n.o.ble heart towards a fellow-being in distress, but if he should know by what means Aphiz had come in the situation which he had found him, would not his loyalty to the Sultan demand that he should at once render up the escaped prisoner once more to the executioner"s hands?
His true policy therefore seemed to be to keep his own secret, and this he resolved to do, but he had reasoned without knowing the character or feelings of him to whom he was so much indebted, as we shall see.
Scarcely had he resolved the matter in his mind, as we have described, when Selim entered the cabin, and perceiving the refreshed and cheerful appearance of Aphiz, addressed him in a congratulatory tone.
"I rejoice to see you so well."
"Thanks to your prompt a.s.sistance and hospitality that I am not now at the bottom of the Bosphorus."
"You were pretty close upon drowning, and must have been under water for some time, I should say."
"I had indeed, and was very nearly exhausted," answered Aphiz.
"But how came you in such a pitiable plight, what led you so far from the sh.o.r.e without a boat?"
"I--that is to say--"
"O, I see, some matter that you wish to keep a secret. Very well; far be it from me to ask aught of thee, or urge thee to reveal any matter that might compromise thy feelings."
"Not so," answered Aphiz; "but were I to speak, I might criminate myself."
"O, fear no such matter with me, were you an escaped prisoner from the law, I--"
"What?" asked Aphiz, as he observed the young officer regarding him intently.
"Why, I should not betray you again into the Sultan"s power. I have no real sympathy with these Turks, and would much rather serve you, who seem to be a stranger, than them."
"Thanks, a thousand thanks," answered Aphiz, warmly.
"Therefore, confide in me, and if I can serve thee, I will do so at once."
"I will," said Aphiz, who felt that the officer was honest in what he promised.
Then he told him how he had been condemned by the Sultan, for some private enmity, to die, but he carefully observed the utmost secrecy as to what the actual motive of his punishment really was. He told how he had been borne in the execution boat to the usual spot for the execution of the sentence that had been p.r.o.nounced upon him. How he had been confined in the sack and cast into the sea, describing his first sensations and his struggle with his dagger until he cut himself free from the terrible confinement of his canvas prison. How he had struggled beneath the element, and then of the fearful eddy into which he had been drawn, and finally how at last he rose to the surface near his own boat.
That was all that Captain Selim knew of the matter, and after hearing that Aphiz was a Circa.s.sian, he supplied him with an undress uniform to further his disguise, and bade him welcome as his guest.
Therefore when the Armenian doctor and Selim found that their conversation had been overheard by Aphiz, they neither feared his betraying him, nor suspected the deep interest that the young Circa.s.sian felt in the theme of their remarks.
"You were speaking of a slave of the Sultan"s harem, named Komel,"
he said, approaching them.