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<h3>Chapter Thirty.</h3> <h4>The Zygaena.</h4> The conduct of the Coromantee in thus relinquishing the rudder and springing overboard into the sea was inexplicable,—at least, to little William it seemed so for the time. What could be Snowball’s object in taking to the water? The sailor’s strength was sufficient to sustain both himself and the little girl. He appeared to have no difficulty in holding her above the surface; and as to getting back to the raft, Snowball was surely doing more service in steering the raft towards them? Had he continued at the rudder a few minutes longer, the Catamaran must have come very near where the swimmer was struggling; where as, on his dropping the oar, she once more luffed round, and began to make way in the opposite direction. Little William, however, did not observe this sinister circumstance; or if he did, it was for the moment driven out of his mind by one still more sinister, that just then came under his observation. Only for a few seconds had he remained watching the negro, and wondering, with unpleasant thoughts, why the latter before leaping overboard had half drawn the knife from his belt and then resheathed it. Something like a suspicion passed through the mind of the youth. What could the negro want with a knife, if his object was to give help to the swimmer? Could a fiendish conception have occurred to the Coromantee, to lessen the number of those who might require food and water? It is true the suspicion had barely shaped itself in the brain of the boy. Still, it had shaped itself, to be succeeded by a feeling of remorse for the wrong which he had done to Snowball in entertaining it. Almost on the instant did he become conscious of this wrong, by an object coming under his eyes and which at once accounted for the conduct of the Coromantee, that had seemed strange. Snowball was swimming towards Ben Brace,—not to destroy,—but with the intention of saving him. From what? Was the sailor really in danger of sinking, so as to stand in need of support both for himself and his burden? Little William did not put such an interrogatory. All his conjectures were ended. The peril threatening his patron,—and little Lalee as well,—was plainly outlined before his eyes, in all its frightful reality. That flattish, dark disc, with lunetted edge, rising erect above the surface, and cutting keenly through the rippling water, was an object not to be mistaken for any moving thing met with amid the ocean, save the dorsal fin of a shark, and William knew at a glance that such in reality it was. He saw, moreover, it was the same he and little Lalee had so late been contemplating in security,—the dreaded zygaena: for through the translucent water he could distinguish its hammer-shaped head, and lurid eyes gleaming out from their protuberant sockets,—hideous to behold! The boy now became spectator,—sole spectator,—of a scene of thrilling, even terrible interest. The characters in the drama were Snowball, the zygaena, and Ben Brace with his burden. Just as William had arrived at the comprehension of the Coromantee’s behaviour, the dramatis persona were placed relatively to each other in a triangular position,—an isosceles triangle, in which Snowball and the shark represented the angles at the base, while Ben with his charge occupied the apex. The latter point was almost stationary, while both the former were moving towards it in converging lines, fast as shark and man could swim. The situation was easily explained. The zygaena, hitherto holding its course ahead of the Catamaran, had become apprised of the catastrophe occurring among the crew. The plash occasioned by little Lalee as she was flung upon the water, and the heavier concussion of Ben’s body as he plunged overboard, had reached the monster’s ears; and, with that fell instinct peculiar to its tribe, it had suddenly turned in the water, and commenced swimming toward the wake of the craft; where it knew that anything, whether human or otherwise, falling overboard, must inevitably drift. While passing the Catamaran towards the wake, Snowball had caught sight of its fan-like fin,—which apprised him of the direction it was taking, at the same time revealing to him its design. The plunge which Snowball had made as he sprang out into the water had caused the zygaena to swerve from its course; and for some moments it swam towards him, as if determined upon changing the object of its attack; but whether not liking the looks of the Coromantee or frayed by his bold attitude in making directly towards it, it shied back into its former course, and kept on towards the others. Of course, the sailor, encumbered as he was by the half-lifeless form of the girl, would stand but little chance of making a successful defence against a shark,—more especially such a monster as the zygaena; and it was the knowledge of this that had summoned Snowball to the rescue. Against such an adversary a more capable combatant than the Coromantee could scarce have been found on the waters of the ocean, or even in them. He could swim like a swan, and dive like a sea-duck; nor was it the first time for him to have fought the shark in its own element; neither would it be the first time should he prove conqueror in the combat. On launching into the lists, his chief dread had not been for himself, but for those he was proceeding to rescue. In point of time the shark had had the start of him; and, although on parting from the raft the distances each would have to traverse were not very unequal, Snowball knew that his scaly competitor far excelled him in the quality of speed. It was this thought that was causing him anxiety,—amounting almost to anguish,—that caused him to plunge wildly through the water,—to utter loud cries, and make other noisy demonstrations,—with a view of distracting the attention of the zygaena from the victims it had fore-chosen, and drawing its attack upon himself. His shouts and gesticulations proved equally unavailing. The cunning zygaena took no heed of either; but with its dark dorsal fin, set like a well-bent sail, it kept straight on towards the easier victims. The sides of the isosceles triangle were gradually growing unequal,—gradually and slowly, but, alas! surely. Already was it an irregular scalene. Snowball perceived the change,—each moment becoming more perceptible, each moment augmenting his fears. “Poor lilly Lally!” cried he, in a voice that betrayed his anxiety. “O Mass’ Ben! fo’ de lub o’ Gorramity, swum to de right,—round dat away, an’ let me git ’tween you an de ravenin’ beast. To de right!—da’s de way. Do yer bess, Mass’ Brace, an’ gi’ me time get up. I take care o’ de lubber ef I once get im widin reach o’ dis chile’s arm.” The injunction thus uttered had the desired effect. Up to that time the sailor, sunk low in the water by reason of the extra weight, had not become fully cognisant of the peril of his position. Hitherto his mind had been more occupied with the idea of overtaking the raft, than any danger to be dreaded from sharks. He was not even aware of the zygaena’s approach; for the fin, which had betrayed the monster’s presence to those on the Catamaran,—from being seen en profile,—could not so easily be distinguished when viewed in “front-face.” No wonder, therefore, that the victims which the zygaena had selected for its attack remained unconscious of its approach; and it was only on seeing Snowball spring out from the Catamaran, and swim towards him, that the sailor suspected the proximity of a shark. At the same instant, also, he remembered the interrogatory that had been addressed to him by little William, and his own laconic reply designating the individual as a hammer-head. From these various circumstances he could tell that there was a shark bearing down upon him; but in what direction he could not conjecture, until the hurried words of Snowball admonished him to “make way to de right.” The sailor had too much respect for the experience of the ex-cook to disregard the injunctions thus given; and of hearing them, he at once swerved in the direction indicated, and “made way to de right” as fast as a man could swim with only one hand free for the stroke. Fortunately for all parties, the one arm proved sufficient. The new direction entered upon by the swimmer soon changed the relative position of all parties. The triangle became resolved into a right line,—the shark at one extremity,—the sailor with his charge at the other,—Snowball midway between! <hr /></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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