Page 25 of The Phantom Ship


  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

  What pen could portray the feelings of the fond and doting Amine, whenshe first discovered that she was separated from her husband? In astate of bewilderment, she watched the other raft as the distancebetween them increased. At last the shades of night hid it from heraching eyes, and she dropped down in mute despair.

  Gradually she recovered herself, and turning round, she exclaimed,"Who's here?"

  No answer.

  "Who's here!" cried she in a louder voice; "alone--alone--and Philipgone. Mother, mother, look down upon your unhappy child!" and Aminefrantically threw herself down so near to the edge of the raft, that herlong hair, which had fallen down, floated on the wave.

  "Ah me! where am I?" cried Amine, after remaining in a state of torporfor some hours. The sun glared fiercely upon her, and dazzled her eyesas she opened them--she cast them on the blue wave close by her, andbeheld a large shark motionless by the side of the raft, waiting for hisprey. Recoiling from the edge, she started up. She turned round andbeheld the raft vacant, and the truth flashed on her. "Oh! Philip,Philip!" cried she, "then it is true and you are gone for ever! Ithought it was only a dream: I recollect all now. Yes--all--all!" AndAmine sank down again upon her cot which had been placed in the centreof the raft, and remained motionless for some time.

  But the demand for water became imperious; she seized one of thebottles, and drank. "Yet why should I drink or eat? why should I wishto preserve life?" She rose, and looked round the horizon. "Sky andwater, nothing more. Is this the death I am to die--the cruel deathprophesied by Schriften--a lingering death under a burning sun, while myvitals are parched within? Be it so! Fate, I dare thee to thy worst--we can die but once--and without him, what care I to live? But yet Imay see him again," continued Amine, hurriedly, after a pause. "Yes, Imay--who knows? then welcome life; I'll nurse thee for that bare hope--bare indeed, with naught to feed on. Let me see--is it here still?"Amine looked at her zone, and perceived her dagger was still in it."Well, then, I will live since death is at my command, and be guardfulof life for my dear husband's sake." And Amine threw herself on herresting-place that she might forget every thing. She did: from thatmorning till the noon of the next day she remained in a state of torpor.

  When she again rose, she was faint; again she looked round her--therewas but sky and water to be seen.

  "Oh! this solitude--it is horrible! death would be a release--but no, Imust not die--I must live for Philip." She refreshed herself with waterand a few pieces of biscuit, and folded her arms across her breast. "Afew more days without relief, and all must be over. Was ever womansituated as I am, and yet I dare to indulge hope? Why, 'tis madness!And why am I thus singled out: because I have wedded with Philip? Itmay be so; if so, I welcome it. Wretches! who thus severed me from myhusband; who to save their own lives, sacrificed a helpless woman! Nay!they might have saved me, if they had had the least pity;--but no, theynever felt it. And these are Christians! The creed that the oldpriests would have had me--yes! that Philip would have had me embrace.Charity and good-will! They talk of it, but I have never seen thempractise it! Loving one another!--forgiving one another!--say ratherhating and preying upon one another! A creed never practised: why, ifnot practised of what value is it? Any creed were better--I abjure it,and if I be saved, will abjure it still for ever. Shade of my mother!is it that I have listened to these men--that I have to win my husband'slove, tried to forget that which thou taughtest, even when a child atthy feet--that faith which our forefathers for thousands of years livedand died in--that creed proved by works, and obedience to the prophet'swillis it for this that I am punished? Tell me, mother--oh! tell me inmy dreams."

  The night closed in, and with the gloom rose heavy clouds; the lightningdarted through the firmament, ever and anon lighting up the raft. Atlast, the flashes were so rapid, not following each other--but dartingdown from every quarter at once, that the whole firmament appeared as ifon fire, and the thunder rolled along the heavens, now near and loud,then rumbling in the distance. The breeze rose up fresh, and the wavestossed the raft, and washed occasionally even to Amine's feet, as shestood in the centre of it.

  "I like this--this is far better than that calm and withering heat--thisrouses me," said Amine as she cast her eyes up, and watched the forkedlightning till her vision became obscured. "Yes, this is as it shouldbe. Lightning, strike me if you please--waves, wash me off and bury mein a briny tomb--pour the wrath of the whole elements upon this devotedhead--I care not, I laugh at, I defy it all. Thou canst but kill, thislittle steel can do as much. Let those who hoard up wealth--those wholive in splendour--those that are happy--those who have husbands,children, aught to love--let them tremble; I have nothing. Elements! beye fire, or water, or earth, or air, Amine defies you! And yet--no no,deceive not thyself. Amine, there is no hope; thus will I mount myfuneral bier, and wait the will of destiny." And Amine regained thesecure place which Philip had fitted up for her in the centre of theraft, threw herself down upon her bed and shut her eyes.

  The thunder and lightning was followed up by torrents of heavy rain,which fell till daylight; the wind still continued fresh, but the skycleared, and the sun shone out. Amine remained shivering in her wetgarments: the heat of the sun proved too powerful for her exhaustedstate, and her brain wandered. She rose up in a sitting posture, lookedaround her, saw verdant fields in every direction, the cocoa-nuts wavingto the wind--imagined even that she saw her own Philip in the distancehastening to her; she held out her arms strove to get up, and run tomeet him, but her limbs refused their office; she called to him, shescreamed, and sank back exhausted on her resting-place.