Bevis Part 37

"And Varro's a prisoner--there he is," said Mark. "Give in, Val."

"I won't. Let me out. Come near and hit then. If I could get at you!"

"But you can't!"

"O!"--as they pressed him.

"Give in!"

"No! Not if I'm squashed:--no, that I won't," said Val, frantically struggling.

"What's the use?" said Scipio. "You may just as well--the battle's won, and it's no use your fighting."

"Where's Pompey?" asked Val Cra.s.sus.

"Run away," said Mark promptly.

"Then where's Bevis?"

"After him of course," said Mark.

"I don't believe it; did any one see Pompey run? Phil, did you?"--to the prisoner.

"Don't know," said Varro, sullenly. "Don't care. If he had done as I said he would have won. Yes, I saw him leave the fight."

"Now will you give in?" said Mark. "Or must we chop you till you do."

"Chop away," said Val defiantly.

"Don't hit him," said Scipio. "Val, really it's no good, you've lost the battle."

"I suppose we have," said Val. "Well, let some one take Varro on the hill, and let him tell me if he can see Pompey anywhere."

They did so. Cecil and three others as guards took Varro on the rising ground; Varro was obliged to own that Pompey was not in sight.

"Take it then," said Cra.s.sus, hurling his sword at them. "Well, I never thought Ted would have run. If he had not, I would not have given in for fifty of you."

"But he did run," said Mark, unable to suppress his joy.

"You won't tie me," said Cra.s.sus, as they let him out. Mark did not tie him, and then as they were now ten to one they loosened Varro too. Mark led them up on the higher ground towards the sycamores, fully expecting to see Bevis every moment. When he got there, and could not see him anywhere, he could not understand it. Then Cra.s.sus told him of the search he had made. Mark went to the quarry and looked down--no one was there. He halted while two of his men ran through the firs shouting, but of course came back unsuccessful.

"I know," said Scipio, "he's gone to the camp."

"Of course," said Mark. "How stupid of us--of course he's at the camp.

Let him see us come properly. Two and two, now--prisoners two and two half-way down, that's it. Eagles in front. Right. March."

He marched, with Scipio beside him, the four eagles behind, and the prisoners in the centre. Never was there a prouder general than Mark at that moment. He had captured both the enemy's eagles, recovered his own, and taken Pompey's lieutenants captive. Pompey himself and all his soldiers had fled: looking round the Plain there was not one in sight.

Mark Antony was in sole possession of the battlefield. Proudly he marched, pa.s.sing every now and then broken swords on the ground, and noticing the trampled gra.s.s where fierce combats had occurred. How delighted Bevis would be to see him! How he looked forward to Bevis's triumph! All his heart was full of Bevis, it was not his own success, it was Bevis's victory that he rejoiced in.

"Bevis! Bevis!" he shouted, as they came near the camp, but there was no answer. When they entered the camp, and found the fire still smouldering, but no Bevis, Mark's face became troubled. The triumph faded away, he grew anxious.

"Where ever can he be?" he said. "I hope there's nothing wrong.

Bevis!" shouting at the top of his voice. The gale took the shout with it, but nothing came but the roaring of the wind. The sun was now sinking and cast a purple gleam over the gra.s.s.

Volume Two, Chapter III.

BEVIS IN THE STORM.

In the punt Bevis remained quite still under the sacks while Cra.s.sus searched the quarry for him, then looked up in the sycamores, and afterwards went to the hazel hedge. Bevis, peeping out from under the broad seat, saw him go there, and knew that he could not see over the New Sea from the lower ground, but as others might at any moment come on the hill, he considered it best to keep on the bottom of the boat. The punt at first floated slowly, and was sheltered by the jutting point, but still the flow of the water carried it out, and in a little time the wind pushed it more strongly as it got farther from sh.o.r.e. Presently it began to roll with the waves, and Bevis soon found some of the inconveniences of a flat-bottomed vessel.

The old punt always leaked, and the puntsman being too idle to bale till compelled, the s.p.a.ce between the veal and the false bottom was full of water. As she began to roll this water went with a sound like "swish"

from side to side, and Bevis saw it appear between the edge of the boards and the side. When she had drifted quite out of the gulf and met the full force of the waves every time they lifted her, this bilgewater rushed out over the floor. Bevis was obliged to change his position, else he would soon have been wet through. He doubled up the two sacks and sat on them, reclining his arms on the seat so as still to be as low down and as much concealed as possible.

This precaution was really needless, for both the armies were scattered, the one pursuing and the other pursued, in places where they could not see him, and even had they moved by the sh.o.r.e they would never have thought of looking for him where he was. He could not know this, and so sat on the sacks. The punt was now in the centre of the storm, and the waves seemed immense to Bevis. Between them the surface was dark, their tops were crested with foam, which the wind blew off against him, so that he had to look in the direction he was going and not back to escape the constant shower of scud in his face.

Now up, now down, the boat heaved and sank, turning slowly round as she went, but generally broadside on. With such a hurricane and such waves she floated fast, and the sh.o.r.e was already far behind. When Bevis felt that he was really out on the New Sea a wild delight possessed him. He shouted and sang how--

"Estmere threw his harpe asyde, And swith he drew his brand!"

The dash of the waves, the "wish" of the gust as it struck him, the flying foam, the fury of the storm, the red sun almost level with the horizon and towards which he drifted, the dark heaving waters in their wrath lifted his spirit to meet them. All he wished was that Mark was with him to share the pleasure. He was now in the broadest part of the New Sea where the rollers having come so far rose yet higher. Bevis shouted to them, wild as the waves.

The punt being so c.u.mbrous and heavy did not rise buoyantly as the waves went under, but hung on them, so that the crests of the larger waves frequently broke over the gunwale and poured a flood of water on board.

There were crevices too in her sides, which in ordinary times were not noticed, as she was never loaded deep enough to bring them down to the water-line. But now the waves rising above these found out the c.h.i.n.ks, and rushed through in narrow streams.

The increase of the water in the punt again forced Bevis to move, and he sat up on the seat with his feet on the sacks. The water was quite three inches above the false bottom, and rushed from side to side with a great splash, of course helping to heel her over. Bevis did not like this at all; he ceased singing, and looked about him.

It seemed a mile (it was not so far) back to the quarry, such a waste of raging waves and foam! On either side the sh.o.r.e was a long, long way, he could not swim a tenth as far. He recognised the sedges where he and Mark had wandered on his left, and found that he was rapidly coming near the two islands. He began to grow anxious, thinking that the boat would not keep afloat very much longer. The sh.o.r.e in front beyond the islands was a great way, and from what he knew of it he believed it was enc.u.mbered far out with weeds through which, if the punt foundered, he could not swim, so that his hope was that she would strike either the Unknown Island or Serendib.

Both were now near, and he tried to discover whether the current and wind would throw him on them. A long white streak parallel to the course of the storm marked the surface of the water rising and falling with the waves like a ribbon, and this seemed to pa.s.s close by Serendib.

The punt being nearly on the streak he hoped he should get there. If he only had something to row with! The Old Man of the Sea had hidden the sculls, and had not troubled to bring the movable seat with him, as he did not want it. The movable seat would have made a good paddle. As for the stretcher it was fixed, nailed to the floor.

He could do nothing paddling with his hand, in calm weather he might, but not in such a storm of wind. If he only had something to paddle with he could have worked the punt into the line so as to strike on Serendib. As it was he could do nothing; if he had only had his hat he could have baled out some of the water, which continued to rise higher.

Drifting as the waves chose he saw that Serendib was a low, flat island.

The Unknown Island rose into a steep sand bluff at that end which faced him. Against this bluff the waves broke with tremendous fury, sending the spray up to the bushes on the top. Bevis watched to see where the punt would ground, or whether it would miss both islands and drift through the narrow channel between them.

He still thought it might hit Serendib, when it once more rotated, and that brought it in such a position that the waves must take it crash against the low steep cliff of the Unknown Island. Bevis set his teeth, and prepared to dig his nails into the sand, when just as the punt was within three waves of the sh.o.r.e, it seemed to pause. This was the reflux--the undertow, the water recoiling from the bank--so that the boat for half a moment was suspended or held between the two forces.

Before he had time to think what was best to do the punt partly swung round, and the rush of the current, setting between the islands, carried it along close beside the sh.o.r.e. The bluff now sloped, and the waves rushed up among the bushes and trees. Bevis watched, saw a chance, and in an instant stepped on the seat, and leaped with all his might. It was a long way, but he was a good jumper, and his feet landed on the ground. He would even then have fallen back into the water had he not grasped a branch of alder.

For a moment he hung over the waves, the next he drew himself up, and was safe. He stepped back from the edge, and instinctively put his left arm round the alder trunk, as if clinging to a friend. Leaning against the tree he saw the punt, pushed out by the impetus from his spring, swing round and drift rapidly between the islands. It went some distance, and then began to settle, and slowly sank.

Bevis remained holding the tree till he had recovered himself, then he moved farther into the island, and went a little way up the bluff, whence he saw that the sun had set. He soon forgot his alarm, and as that subsided began to enjoy his position. "What a pity Mark was not with me!" he said to himself. "I am so sorry. Only think, I'm really s.h.i.+pwrecked. It's splendid!" He kicked up his heels, and a startled blackbird flew out of a bramble bush and across the water.

Bevis watched him fly aslant the gale till he lost sight of him in the trees on sh.o.r.e. Looking that way--north-west--his quick eyes found out a curious thing. On that side of the island there was a broad band of weeds stretching towards the sh.o.r.e, and widening the farther it extended.

These weeds were level with the surface, and as the waves rolled under they undulated like a loose green carpet lifted by a strong draught. As they proceeded the undulations became less and less, till on emerging into an open channel on the other side of the weeds, they were nothing more than slow ripples. Still pa.s.sing on the slow ripples gently crossed, and were lost in a second band of weeds. He could hear the boom of the waves as they struck the low cliff and dashed themselves to pieces, yet these furious waves were subdued by the leaves and stalks of the weeds, any of which he knew he could pull up with his hand.