Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Martians -- Fiction; Science fiction
When I scrambled to my feet all was ludicrous confusion on board. Hath
still stood by his throne--an island in a sea of disorder--staring at
me; all else was chaos. The rowers and courtiers were kicking and
wallowing in the "waist" of the ship like fish newly shot out of a
trawl net, but the princess was gone. Where was she? I brushed the
spray from my eyes, and stared overboard. She was not in the bubbling
blue water alongside. Then I glanced aft to where the log, now fifteen
yards away, was splashing through the sunshine, and, as I looked, a
fair arm came up from underneath and white fingers clutched
convulsively at the sky. What man could need more? Down the barge I
rushed, and dropping only my swordbelt, leapt in to her rescue. The
gentle Martians were too numb to raise a hand in help; but it was not
necessary. I had the tide with me, and gained at every stroke.
Meanwhile that accursed tree, with poor Heru's skirts caught on a
branch, was drowning her at its leisure; lifting her up as it rose upon
the crests, a fair, helpless bundle, and then sousing her in its fall
into the nether water, where I could see her gleam now and again like
pink coral.
I redoubled my efforts and got alongside, clutching the rind of that
old stump, and swimming and scrambling, at last was within reach of the
princess. Thereon the log lifted her playfully to my arms, and when I
had laid hold came down, a crushing weight, and forced us far into the
clammy bosom of Martian sea. Again we came up, coughing and choking--I
tugging furiously at that tangled raiment, and the lady, a mere lump of
sweetness in my other arm--then down again with that log upon me and
all the noises of Eblis in my ears. Up and down we went, over and
over, till strength was spent and my ribs seemed breaking; then, with a
last desperate effort, I got a knee against the stem, and by sheer
strength freed my princess--the spiteful timber made a last ugly thrust
at us as it rolled away--and we were free!
I turned upon my back, and, sure of rescue now, took the lady's head
upon my chest, holding her sweet, white fists in mine the while, and,
floating, waited for help.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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