Montezuma's DaughterHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
History
Montezuma's Daughter
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Mexico -- History -- Conquest, 1519-1540 -- Fiction
At the least my courage rose again, and I could even find heart to note
the beauty of the night. The sea was smooth as a pond, there was no
breath of wind, and now that the moon began to sink, thousands of stars
of a marvellous brightness, such as we do not see in England, gemmed
the heavens everywhere. At last these grew pale, and dawn began to
flush the east, and after it came the first rays of sunlight. But now I
could not see fifty yards around me, because of a dense mist that
gathered on the face of the quiet water, and hung there for an hour or
more. When the sun was well up and at length the mist cleared away, I
perceived that I had drifted far from the ship, of which I could only
see the masts that grew ever fainter till they vanished. Now the
surface of the sea was clear of fog except in one direction, where it
hung in a thick bank of vapour, though why it should rest there and
nowhere else, I could not understand.
Then the sun grew hot, and my sufferings commenced, for except the
draught of spirits that had been given me in the hold of the
slave-ship, I had touched no drink for a day and a night. I will not
tell them all in particular detail, it is enough to say that those can
scarcely imagine them who have never stood for hour after hour in a
barrel, bare-headed and parched with thirst, while the fierce heat of a
tropical sun beat down on them from above, and was reflected upward
from the glassy surface of the water. In time, indeed, I grew faint and
dizzy, and could hardly save myself from falling into the sea, and at
last I sank into a sort of sleep or insensibility, from which I was
awakened by a sound of screaming birds and of falling water. I looked
and saw to my wonder and delight, that what I had taken to be a bank of
mist was really low-lying land, and that I was drifting rapidly with
the tide towards the bar of a large river. The sound of birds came from
great flocks of sea-gulls that were preying on the shoals of fish,
which fed at the meeting of the fresh and salt water. Presently, as I
watched, a gull seized a fish that could not have weighed less than
three pounds, and strove to lift it from the sea. Failing in this, it
beat the fish on the head with its beak till it died, and had begun to
devour it, when I drifted down upon the spot and made haste to seize
the fish. In another moment, dreadful as it may seem, I was devouring
the food raw, and never have I eaten with better appetite, or found
more refreshment in a meal.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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