Venetia

  CHAPTER XII.

  In the heart of the tempest Captain Cadurcis traced his way in a seaof vapour with extreme danger and difficulty to the shore. On hisarrival at Spezzia, however, scarcely a house was visible, and theonly evidence of the situation of the place was the cessation of animmense white surf which otherwise indicated the line of the sea, butthe absence of which proved his contiguity to a harbour. In the thickfog he heard the cries and shouts of the returning fishermen, andof their wives and children responding from the land to theirexclamations. He was forced, therefore, to wait at Spezzia, in anagony of impotent suspense, until the fury of the storm was over andthe sky was partially cleared. At length the objects became graduallyless obscure; he could trace the outline of the houses, and catch aglimpse of the water half a mile out, and soon the old castles whichguard the entrance of the strait that leads into the gulf, loomingin the distance, and now and then a group of human beings in thevanishing vapour. Of these he made some inquiries, but in vain,respecting the boat and his friends. He then made the brig, but couldlearn nothing except their departure in the morning. He at lengthobtained a horse and galloped along the coast towards Lerici, keepinga sharp look out as he proceeded and stopping at every village in hisprogress for intelligence. When he had arrived in the course of threehours at Lerici, the storm had abated, the sky was clear, and noevidence of the recent squall remained except the agitated stateof the waves. At Lerici he could hear nothing, so he hurried on toSarzana, where he learnt for the first time that an open boat,with its sails set, had passed more than an hour before the squallcommenced. From Sarzana he hastened on to Lavenza, a little port, thenearest sea-point to Massa, and where the Carrara marble is shippedfor England. Here also his inquiries were fruitless, and, exhaustedby his exertions, he dismounted and rested at the inn, not only forrepose, but to consider over the course which he should now pursue.The boat had not been seen off Lavenza, and the idea that they hadmade the coast towards Leghorn now occurred to him. His horse was sowearied that he was obliged to stop some time at Lavenza, for he couldprocure no other mode of conveyance; the night also was fast comingon, and to proceed to Leghorn by this dangerous route at this hour wasimpossible. At Lavenza therefore he remained, resolved to hastento Leghorn at break of day. This was a most awful night. Althoughphysically exhausted, Captain Cadurcis could not sleep, and, aftersome vain efforts, he quitted his restless bed on which he had laiddown without undressing, and walked forth to the harbour. Betweenanxiety for Herbert and his cousin, and for the unhappy women whom hehad left behind, he was nearly distracted. He gazed on the sea, as ifsome sail in sight might give him a chance of hope. His professionalexperience assured him of all the danger of the squall. He could notconceive how an open boat could live in such a sea, and an instantreturn to port so soon as the squall commenced, appeared the onlychance of its salvation. Could they have reached Leghorn? It seemedimpossible. There was no hope they could now be at Sarzana, or Lerici.When he contemplated the full contingency of what might have occurred,his mind wandered, and refused to comprehend the possibility of theterrible conclusion. He thought the morning would never break.

  There was a cavernous rock by the seashore, that jutted into the waterlike a small craggy promontory. Captain Cadurcis climbed to its top,and then descending, reclined himself upon an inferior portion of it,which formed a natural couch with the wave on each side. There, lyingat his length, he gazed upon the moon and stars whose brightness hethought would never dim. The Mediterranean is a tideless sea, but theswell of the waves, which still set in to the shore, bore occasionallymasses of sea-weed and other marine formations, and deposited themaround him, plashing, as it broke against the shore, with a melancholyand monotonous sound. The abstraction of the scene, the hour, and thesurrounding circumstances brought, however, no refreshment to theexhausted spirit of George Cadurcis. He could not think, indeed he didnot dare to think; but the villa of the Apennines and the open boat inthe squall flitted continually before him. His mind was feeble thoughexcited, and he fell into a restless and yet unmeaning reverie. Aslong as he had been in action, as long as he had been hurrying alongthe coast, the excitement of motion, the constant exercise of hissenses, had relieved or distracted the intolerable suspense. But thispause, this inevitable pause, overwhelmed him. It oppressed his spiritlike eternity. And yet what might the morning bring? He almost wishedthat he might remain for ever on this rock watching the moon andstars, and that the life of the world might never recommence.

  He started; he had fallen into a light slumber; he had been dreaming;he thought he had heard the voice of Venetia calling him; he hadforgotten where he was; he stared at the sea and sky, and recalledhis dreadful consciousness. The wave broke with a heavy plash thatattracted his attention: it was, indeed, that sound that had awakenedhim. He looked around; there was some object; he started wildly fromhis resting-place, sprang over the cavern, and bounded on the beach.It was a corpse; he is kneeling by its side. It is the corpse of hiscousin! Lord Cadurcis was a fine swimmer, and had evidently madestrong efforts for his life, for he was partly undressed. In all theinsanity of hope, still wilder than despair, George Cadurcis seizedthe body and bore it some yards upon the shore. Life had been longextinct. The corpse was cold and stark, the eyes closed, an expressionof energy, however, yet lingering in the fixed jaw, and the hairsodden with the sea. Suddenly Captain Cadurcis rushed to the inn androused the household. With a distracted air, and broken speech andrapid motion, he communicated the catastrophe. Several persons, somebearing torches, others blankets and cordials, followed him instantlyto the fatal spot. They hurried to the body, they applied all the ruderemedies of the moment, rather from the impulse of nervous excitementthan with any practical purpose; for the case had been indeed longhopeless. While Captain Cadurcis leant over the body, chafingthe extremities in a hurried frenzy, and gazing intently on thecountenance, a shout was heard from one of the stragglers who hadrecently arrived. The sea had washed on the beach another corpse: theform of Marmion Herbert. It would appear that he had made no struggleto save himself, for his hand was locked in his waistcoat, where, atthe moment, he had thrust the Phaedo, showing that he had been readingto the last, and was meditating on immortality when he died.

  END OF BOOK VI.

  BOOK VII