elf into the water, he was obliged to
shape his course at random, and this, too, amid such a driving spray as
rendered even respiration difficult. As has been said, the waves were
compressed into their bed rather than augmented by the wind; but, had it
been otherwise, the mere heaving and settling of the element, while it
obstructs his speed, offers a support rather than an obstacle to the
practised swimmer.

Notwithstanding all these advantages, the strength of his impulses, and
the numberless occasions on which he had breasted the surges of the
Mediterranean, Sigismund, on recovering from his plunge, felt the fearful
chances of the risk he ran, as the stern soldier meets the hazards of
battle, in which he knows if there is victory there is also death. He
dashed the troubled water aside, though he swam blindly, and each stroke
urged him farther from the bark, his only hope of safety. He was between
dark rolling mounds, and, on rising to their summits, a hurricane of mist
made him glad to sink again within a similar shelter. The breaking crests
of the waves, which were glancing off in foam, also gave him great
annoyance, for such was their force, that, more than once, he was hurled
helpless as a log before them. Still he swam boldly, and with strength;
nature having gifted him with more than the usual physical energy of man.
But, uncertain in his course, unable to see the length of his own body,
and pressed hard upon by the wind, even the spirit of Sigismund Steinbach
could not long withstand so many adverse circumstances. He had already
turned, wavering in purpose, thinking to catch a glimpse of the bark in
the direction he had come, when a dark mass floated immediately before his
eyes, and he felt the cold clammy nose of the dog, scenting about his
face. The admirable instinct, or we might better say, the excellent
training of Nettuno, told him that his services were not needed here, and,
barking with wild delight, as if in mockery of the infernal din of the
tempest, he sheered aside, and swam swiftly on. A thought flashed like
lightning on the brain of Sigismund. His best hope was in the inexplicable
faculties of this animal. Throwing forward an arm, he seized the bushy
tail of the dog, and suffered himself to be dragged ahead, he knew not
whither, though he seconded the movement with his own exertions. Another
bark proclaimed that the experiment was successful, and voices, rising as
it were from the water, close at h