The Pobratim Part 82

What was to be done?

"Leave the s.h.i.+p, and take to the boats," said some of the crew, but it was already too late; they could not help being involved in the cataclysm.

Some of the men had sunk on their knees, and were asking the Virgin or St. Nicholas of Bari to come to their help.

"There is a remedy," said Vranic to the captain; "an infallible remedy."

"What is it?" asked the master, with the eagerness of a drowning man clutching at a straw.

"If a sailor amongst the crew happens to be the eldest of seven sons he can at once dissolve that cursed column of water, the joint work of the evil spirits of the air and those of the sea."

"How so?" asked the captain.

"Draw, at once, a pentagon, or five-pointed star, or King Solomon's seal, on a piece of white paper, and let such a sailor, if he be on board, stab it through the centre."

The captain called all the men together, and asked if anyone amongst them happened to be, by chance, the eldest of seven brothers.

"My father has seven sons, and I am the eldest," said Gennaro, that curly-headed, bright-eyed Sicilian youth, for whom life seemed all suns.h.i.+ne. "Why, what am I to do?"

The waterspout was advancing rapidly, the sea was lashed by the mighty waves, and the s.h.i.+p, like a nutsh.e.l.l, was being tossed against it.

Vranic, who had drawn the cabalistic sign, handed it to the captain.

"Stab that star in the centre, quickly."

The Slav took out a little black dagger, and gave it to the youth.

"Be quick! there is no time to be lost."

The murmuring and hissing sound the column of water had been making had changed into the deafening roar of a waterfall. It seemed to be whirling round with vertiginous rapidity, as it came upon them.

"Make haste!" added the captain.

"But why?"

"Do it! this is no time to ask questions!" replied the master.

"And then?" quoth the youth, turning to Vranic.

"The waterspout will melt into rain."

"And what will happen to me?"

"To you? Why, nothing."

"I am frightened."

A vivid flash of lightning appeared, and the rumbling of the thunder now mingled itself with the roaring of the waters.

"Frightened of what?" said the captain.

"That man has the _jettatura_; I am sure he means mischief."

"What a coward you are! Do what I order you, or, by the Madonna----"

"What harm can befall you for stabbing a bit of paper?" said some of the sailors.

"Quick! it is the only chance of saving us all!" added the boatswain.

"Only, if you don't make haste, it'll be too late."

The abyss of the waters seemed to open before the s.h.i.+p, ready to engulf it; the waves were rolling over it.

Gennaro crossed himself devoutly, then he muttered a prayer; at last he took up the dagger and stabbed the pentagon in the very middle, just where Vranic had pointed to him with his finger; still, he grew ghastly pale as he did so.

"Holy Mother," said the youth, "forgive me if I have done wrong!"

All the eyes anxiously turned from the bit of paper to the waterspout, whirling round and coming ever nearer.

All at once the whirling seemed to stop; then, as the motion relaxed, the column of water snapped somewhat above the middle; the lower portion, or base, relapsed and gradually fell; it was absorbed by the rising waves and the bubbling and foaming waters. The higher portion began to curl upwards and to disappear amidst the huge ma.s.s of lowering clouds overhead.

"There," said Vranic, "I told you the spout would melt away and vanish."

"Wonderful!" said the captain.

"Yes, indeed!" said Gennaro, as he again crossed himself and handed the dagger to its owner, evidently glad to get rid of it.

"Well, you see that you were not struck dead," said the boatswain to the youth.

"Nor carried away by the devil," said another of the sailors.

"The year is not yet out, nor the day either," thought Vranic to himself; "and even if you live, you may rue this day and the deed you've done."

"You have saved all our lives, and we thank you, Gennaro," added the captain. "I shall never forget you; and I hope that, as long as I command a s.h.i.+p, we'll never part."

Thereupon, he clasped him in his arms and kissed him fondly.

"Thank you, captain; and may San Gennaro, my patron saint, and the blessed Virgin, grant you your wish and mine."

"We thank you, too," said the captain to Vranic, feeling himself bound to say something; "you are really a magician, and you know the secret of the elements."

"Oh! it is a thing that every child knows in our country, just like pouring oil in the sea to calm the waves."

The men said nothing, but they were all glad the coasts were near, and that they would soon get rid of this uncanny and uncouth man.

In the meanwhile, the sun had gone down, and dark night spread itself like a pall over the sea. The storm then increased with the darkness.

The waterspout had vanished, but in its stead a pouring rain came down; the wind also began to blow in fitful blasts, and as it came in a contrary direction they were obliged to tack about, and to take in the sails. The storm, however, kept increasing at a fearful rate; the wind was blowing a real hurricane; all sails, even the jib, had to be reefed. The sea, lashed by the wind, became ever more boisterous; the waves rose in succession, uplifting themselves the one on top of the other, and das.h.i.+ng against the s.h.i.+p, which ever seemed ready to founder. All hands were now at the pumps, and Vranic, along with the others, worked away with all his strength.

Steering--as the s.h.i.+p had done--to avoid the waterspout, she had been continually altering her course, so that the captain did not exactly know whereabouts they were. In the midst of the darkness and with the torrents of rain that came pouring down, all traces of land had long disappeared.