Montezuma's DaughterHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
History
Montezuma's Daughter
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Mexico -- History -- Conquest, 1519-1540 -- Fiction
When I had swallowed all that I was able, without drinking water, I put
the rest of the fish into the pocket of my coat, and turned my thoughts
to the breakers on the bar. Soon it was evident to me that I could not
pass them standing in my barrel, so I hastened to upset myself into the
water and to climb astride of it. Presently we were in the surf, and I
had much ado to cling on, but the tide bore me forward bravely, and in
half an hour more the breakers were past, and I was in the mouth of the
great river. Now fortune favoured me still further, for I found a piece
of wood floating on the stream which served me for a paddle, and by its
help I was enabled to steer my craft towards the shore, that as I went
I perceived to be clothed with thick reeds, in which tall and lovely
trees grew in groups, bearing clusters of large nuts in their crowns.
Hither to this shore I came without further accident, having spent some
ten hours in my tub, though it was but a chance that I did so, because
of the horrible reptiles called crocodiles, or, by some, alligators,
with which this river swarmed. But of them I knew nothing as yet.
I reached land but just in time, for before I was ashore the tide
turned, and tide and current began to carry me out to sea again, whence
assuredly I had never come back. Indeed, for the last ten minutes, it
took all the strength that I had to force the barrel along towards the
bank. At length, however, I perceived that it floated in not more than
four feet of water, and sliding from it, I waded to the bank and cast
myself at length there to rest and thank God who thus far had preserved
me miraculously. But my thirst, which now returned upon me more
fiercely than ever, would not suffer me to lie thus for long, so I
staggered to my feet and walked along the bank of the river till I came
to a pool of rain water, which on the tasting, proved to be sweet and
good. Then I drank, weeping for joy at the taste of the water, drank
till I could drink no more, and let those who have stood in such a
plight remember what water was to them, for no words of mine can tell
it. After I had drunk and washed the brine from my face and body, I
drew out the remainder of my fish and ate it thankfully, and thus
refreshed, cast myself down to sleep in the shade of a bush bearing
white flowers, for I was utterly outworn.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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