The Wanderer Read Online Free Page B

shaking their fists and crying, “Let us throw the woman overboard, for her eyes have led the ship to disaster.”
    From this I realized that they had long guessed her secret. But their rage was the best thing that could have befallen her just then, for to show contempt for them the leader of the infidels signed to his men to take Giulia to the round-topped tent on the quarterdeck of the pirate vessel. I felt deeply relieved, although I suspected that only violence and slavery awaited her.
    Once more the haughty commander raised his hand, and a gigantic coal-black slave stepped forward, naked to the waist and carrying a flashing scimitar. His master pointed to the aged and feeble, who had already fallen to their knees, and then turned his back. He surveyed the rest of us disdainfully while the black headsman approached the pilgrims and, ignoring their terrified cries, swept their heads from their shoulders.
    At the sight of these heads rolling over the deck, and the blood spurting from the bodies, the last of my strength left me and I sank to my knees with my arms about my dog’s neck. Andy stood in front of me, feet apart, but when the infidels had patted him on the thigh, impressed by his powerful frame, they smiled at him and bade him step to one side. Thus I lost my only support, and since I had continually hidden behind the backs of others, I was the last to be inspected. They dragged me impatiently to my feet, and pinched me with looks of contempt. I was still emaciated from the plague, and as a scholar I could naturally not compete in bodily strength with seasoned mariners. The commander lifted his hand in dismissal and my guards forced me to my knees, that the Negro might strike off my head, too.
    When Andy saw what was about to happen, he stepped coolly forward, unhindered. The terrible Negro paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but then as he raised the weapon to behead me he was seized round the body by Andy and flung sword and all into the sea.
    So astounding was this spectacle that for a time even the pirates stood gaping. Then their proud leader burst out laughing, and his followers too slapped their knees and howled with delight. No one lifted a finger against Andy. But Andy was not laughing; his face seemed carved from wood as he surveyed me with his round gray eyes and said, “I don’t care to be spared, Michael. Let us die together like good Christians. For together we have been through many hard trials. Perhaps, because of our good intentions, God will forgive us our sins. We will hope for the best, for it’s all we can do.”
    Tears rose to my eyes at the greatness and courage of his action, but I said, “Andy, Andy, you’re a good brother to me, but you have no sense. And now I see that you’re even simpler than I thought. Stop behaving like a fool, and be happy. In heaven I shall pray that your enslavement among the infidels may not be too grievous.”
    Nevertheless as I spoke I trembled, and my heart was not in my words. Heaven seemed farther from me than ever in my life before, and I would have exchanged my place in it for a moldy crust, so long as I might be allowed to eat it. I wept still more bitterly, and cried aloud, like the holy father of the church, “Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.” It should be accounted to me for merit that I spoke in Latin, and thus did nothing to weaken Andy’s simple faith. This was the most anguished prayer that ever rose from my heart, but God in His heaven gave no ear to it. Instead, the frightful Negro clambered over the side, dripping wet, with the scimitar between his teeth. Once firmly on the deck he bellowed like an angry bull, and with rolling eyes charged straight at Andy and would have slain him, had not the pirate captain given a sharp order. His men hastened obediently to Andy’s defense and the Negro was forced to halt, quivering with impotent rage. To give vent to this he raised his sword to cut off my defenseless head. But at