All the time the lifeboats had been pulling away from the danger of the sinking
liner, and now, though I yelled at the top of my lungs, they either did not
hear my appeals for help or else did not dare return to succor me. Nobs and I
had gained some little distance from the ship when it rolled completely over
and sank. We were caught in the suction only enough to be drawn backward a few
yards, neither of us being carried beneath the surface. I glanced hurriedly
about for something to which to cling. My eyes were directed toward the point
at which the liner had disappeared when there came from the depths of the ocean
the muffled reverberation of an explosion, and almost simultaneously a geyser
of water in which were shattered lifeboats, human bodies, steam, coal, oil, and
the flotsam of a liner’s deck leaped high above the surface of the sea—a watery
column momentarily marking the grave of another ship in this greatest cemetery
of the seas.
When the turbulent waters had somewhat subsided and the sea had ceased to spew
up wreckage, I ventured to swim back in search of something substantial enough
to support my weight and that of Nobs as well. I had gotten well over the area
of the wreck when not a half-dozen yards ahead of me a lifeboat shot bow
foremost out of the ocean almost its entire length to flop down upon its keel
with a mighty splash. It must have been carried far below, held to its mother
ship by a single rope which finally parted to the enormous strain put upon it.
In no other way can I account for its having leaped so far out of the water—a
beneficent circumstance to which I doubtless owe my life, and that of another
far dearer to me than my own. I say beneficent circumstance even in the face of
the fact that a fate far more hideous confronts us than that which we escaped
that day; for because of that circumstance I have met her whom otherwise I
never should have known; I have met and loved her. At least I have had that
great happiness in life; nor can Caspak, with all her horrors, expunge that
which has been.
So for the thousandth time I thank the strange fate which sent that lifeboat
hurtling upward from the green pit of destruction to which it had been
dragged—sent it far up above the surface, emptying its water as it rose above
the waves, and dropping it upon the surface of the sea, buoyant and safe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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