University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.
FLIGHT AND SHIPWRECK OF SELIM.

Treachery is more fatal than open war.
Selim had hardly gained the shore, where his
enemies were again trying to effect a lodgement,
than he saw that symptoms of fear had become
wrought for the first time among the islanders, and
though they advanced at his word, and presented
apparently as bold a front as on former occasions,
it was evident to his mind that there was
not the same alacrity in their movements as before.
Nevertheless, the first brunt of the contest
was sustained gallantly. The foe were
obliged to retreat, and their old spirit began to
animate the defenders, when a sudden alarm in
the direction of the capital, awakened all the
worst apprehensions of the young king. A
trumpet-blast was heard at a great distance,
and shortly after a troop of horsemen, who had
been stationed on the inland highway, appeared
riding at full speed, as if pursued by an enemy.
They clattered into the fort, their steeds white
with foam, and their garments covered with
dust. The leader, throwing himself from his
horse at Selim's feet, cried out in trembling
accents:

“My king—all is lost!”

“Speak!—what has occurred?”

“The city is in possession of insurgents, who
are making sorties in all directions. We have
been driven from our post by a troop of re
bels, headed by Prince Osmyn, who proclaims
himself king of Guzan!”

Scarcely were these ill-omened words uttered,
than a new disturbance was noticeable at the out
skirts of the town, and a straggling throng of
soldiers and citizens appeared, making with
great speed for the fort. The defenders, who
surrounded Selim, were seized with a panic at
beholding this sight, and hearing the news from
the capital; and then terror became soon communicated
to all who occupied the shore. In a
few moments the cry ran through the ranks
that all resistance would be useless.

Selim in vain strove to arrest the progress of
fear among his people. The tidings of treachery
and rebellion seemed to paralyze at once all their
previous resolution, and it became no longer
doubtful that the fall of Guzan was inevitable.
The king saw that all hope of defence must be
abandoned; but his prudence and self-possession
did not desert him. He called to him a few
of the bravest men who still clustered near their
monarch, and exclaimed.

“If Guzan must yield to traitors, let us seek
a country elsewhere. We must preserve our
lives for future struggles! Who will follow me
through yonder hostile fleet?”

A hundred of the brave islanders sprang forward
at the words of their prince, and declared

their willingness to die for him. Hastily arraying
them in close order, Selim then announced
his project of escape.

“We will make an onset upon the invaders
as they attempt to land, and as soon as they
gain the shore, seize upon their boats, and push
off. We shall then be enabled to assault and
carry the king of Guzan's ship, which is nearest
the shore, and in that vessel force our way to
sea.”

The proposal was seconded with a loud shout,
and Selim lost no time in carrying his plan into
execution. The besiegers were about to make
their final attempt at a landing, while from the
parties of flying villagers, who could be seen
entering the inland side of the fort, it was evident
that the insurgents were approaching rapidly
from the capital. The crisis was at hand,
and Selim gave the signal for battle by waving
his sword and rushing to the head of his devoted
followers.

Whatever had been the determined energy of
previous engagements, this last struggle of the
islanders was the most desperate. Following
their prince, they bore down upon the Xandians
with terrific impetuosity, and drove many who
had landed backward into the water. But they
wasted not their strength in hand-to-hand conflict.
Their object was escape, and gallantly
did they achieve it. Almost before the invaders
could recover from the fury of the islanders' onset,
they beheld their boats in the latter's possession,
and far beyond the possibility of re-capture.

Too late the king of Xanda became aware
of the stratagem by which his prey was about to
escape, and though a thousand spears and arrows
were hurled from the shores against the
boats, no stop could be put to their progress
against the ships, to which they were evidently
shaping their course.

The large force which had landed, under the
command of the king of Xanda, in order to
make the powerful attack upon Guzan, had left
the monarch's fleet almost defenceless, and had
Selim a sufficient force, he might have captured
the entire fleet, without a possibility of the latter's
receiving succor from the shore. But his
hundred gallant followers had been reduced
nearly one half in the desperate melee upon the
beach, and therefore he directed the attack upon
the king of Xanda's ship, without attempting
aught against the rest. It was not a difficult
task to carry the vessel, for scarcely a dozen
men had been left on board, and in a brief space
King Selim had exchanged his sovereignty of
Guzan for the command of an armed bark, which,
through the midst of her late consorts, was
steered safely from the harbor, and ere morning
had sailed far away from the conquered island
of Guzan.

The first intention of the dethroned prince
was to shape his voyage for the Isle of Eagles,
the bearings of which he remembered, in hopes
of falling in with one of Ali-Naro's vessels, or,
perhaps, the corsair himself. But though man
may propose to himself a course, it is Heaven
above which can determine the event; and the
misfortunes of Selim were not yet to have a
close.

Scarcely had the expatriated defenders of Guzan
recovered sufficiently from the excitement of
their escape to take counsel concerning their future
movements, when a new danger began to
threaten them. The weather grew boisterous,
the skies began to lower, and everything betokened
the coming of one of the terrible tempests
which are so fatal in the Indian Ocean. At the
same time a violent fever broke out among the
people, occasioned by the crowded state of the
vessel, and in consequence of there being many
wounded men among those who had escaped
from Guzan. Storm and disease thus added
their horrors to the exile, into which the brave
followers of Selim had thrown themselves, after
their noble but unavailing defence of their invaded
country.

It would be painful to detail all the trials of
that wretched company on board the storm tossed
ship, or to depict the grief of Prince Selim
in witnessing the sufferings and death of his
people. One by one the survivors of battle fell
before the insidious attacks of disease, until at
length but a third remained of all who had escaped
from Guzan.

In this condition of affairs, when the vessel,
deprived of her able-bodied seamen, became
often completely unmanageable during heavy
gales, a violent tempest suddenly arose, and
filled the breast of Selim with the direst apprehensions.
The waves rolled mountain high in
the ship's path—lightnings and thunders made
fearful the skies, and in the intervals of the red

flashes, a thick darkness settled upon the ocean's
face.

The few mariners who could sustain the
hardships of the watch, were unable to control
the helm, and in fact lost all reckoning of their
course; and at last the forlorn prince of Guzan
beheld the inevitable destruction of his ship—
she struck upon a reef of sharp rocks, and the
billows dashed in fury upon her decks, carrying
away masts and cordage, and sweeping nearly
all the crew to a watery doom.

Prince Selim had only time to offer what he
deemed a dying prayer to Allah, when the
wreck, parting in two, was whirled high upon
the shoals, and the few men who yet lived were
swept away upon the greedy waves. The young
monarch closed his eyes, and became insensible,
while the fierce waters hurling him forward upon
their crests, cast him high upon a ledge of rocks,
and returning, left him apparently bereft of
life.