y, he thrust the haft between his knees; then he worked
the rope that bound his hands to and fro over the blade; the rope
parted, and the blood came back into his numbed fingers with a terrible
pain. But David heeded it not, and stooping down, he cut the cord that
bound his feet; then he rose softly, and sate down again; for the blood,
returning to his limbs, made him feel he could not stand yet awhile. All
was still in the cabin, except for the slow breathing of those that
slept; save that every now and then one of the sleepers broke into a
stifled cry, and muttered words, or stirred in his sleep.

Presently David felt that he could walk. He pondered for a moment
whether he should take the knife, if he were suddenly attacked; but he
resisted the thought, and left the knife lying on the ground.

Then stepping lightly among the sleepers, he moved like a shadow to the
door; very carefully he stepped; and at each movement or muttered word
he stopped and caught his breath. Suddenly one of the men rose up,
leaning on his arm, and looked at him with a stupid stare; but David
stood still, waiting, with his heart fit to break within his breast,
till the man lay down again. Then David was at the door. The cabin
occupied half the ship to the bows; the rest was undecked, with high
bulwarks; a rough ladder of steps led to the gangway. David stood for a
moment in the shadow of the door; but there seemed no one on the watch
without. The pure air and the fresh smell of the sea came to his senses
like a breath of heaven. He stepped swiftly over a coil of rope; then up
the ladder, and plunged noiselessly into the sea.

He swam a few strokes very strongly; and then he looked about him. The
night was as dark as pitch. He could see a dim light from the ship
behind him; the water rose and fell in a slow heavy swell; but which way
the land lay he could not tell. But he said to himself that it was
better to drown and be certainly with God, than in the den of robbers he
had left. So he turned himself round in the water, trying to remember
where the shore lay, but it was all dark, both the sky and sea, with a
pitchy blackness; only the lights of the ship glimmered towards him like
little bright paths across the heaving tide.

Suddenly there came a thing so wonderful that David could hardly believe
he saw truly; a bright eye of light, as it were, opened upon him in the
dark, far off, and hung high in the heavens, like a quiet star. The
radian