The night was cold, and I had nothing on me save breeches and boots, and
those drenched with the sea, and had been wrestling with the surf so long
that there was little left in me. Yet once I clutched the rope I clung to
it for very life, and in a minute found myself in the midst of the
beachmen. I heard them shout again, and felt strong hands seize me, but
could not see their faces for a mist that swam before my eyes, and could
not speak because my throat and tongue were cracked with the salt water,
and the voice would not come. There was a crowd about me of men and some
women, and I spread out my hands, blindly, to catch hold of them, but my
knees failed and let me down upon the beach. And after that I remember
only having coats flung over me, and being carried off out of the wind,
and laid in warmest blankets before a fire. I was numb with the cold, my
hair was matted with the salt, and my flesh white and shrivelled, but
they forced liquor into my mouth, and so I lay in drowsy content till
utter weariness bound me in sleep.
It was a deep and dreamless sleep for hours, and when it left me, gently
and as it were inch by inch, I found I was still lying wrapped in
blankets by the fire. Oh, what a vast and infinite peace was that, to lie
there half-asleep, yet wake enough to know that I had slipped my prison
and the pains of death, and was a free man here in my native place! At
last I shifted myself a little, growing more awake; and opening my eyes
saw I was not alone, for two men sat at a table by me with glasses and a
bottle before them.
'He is coming-to,' said one, 'and may live yet to tell us who he is, and
from what port his craft sailed.'
'There has been many a craft,' the other said, 'has sailed for many a
port, and made this beach her last; and many an honest man has landed on
it, and never one alive in such a sea. Nor would this one be living
either, if it had not been for that other brave heart to stand by and
save him. Brave heart, brave heart,' he said over to himself. 'Here, pass
me the bottle or I shall get the vapours. 'Tis good against these early
chills, and I have not been in this place for ten years past, since poor
Elzevir was cut adrift.'
I could not see the speaker's face from where I lay upon the floor, yet
seemed to know his voice; and so was fumbling in my weakened mind to put
a name to it, when he spoke of Elzevir, and sent my thoughts flying
elsewhere.
'Elzevir,' I said, 'where is Elzevir?' and sat up to look round,
expecting to see him lying near me, and remembering the wreck more
clearly now, and how he had saved me with that last shove forward on the
beach. But he was not to be seen, and so I guessed that his great
strength had brought him round quicker than had my youth, and that he was
gone back to the beach.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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