by J. M. Barrie
Chapter Forty-Three.
RAIN--MIST--THE JAWS.
To this day we argue in the glen about the sound mistaken by many ofus for the firing of the Spittal cannon, some calling it thunder andothers the tearing of trees in the torrent. I think it must have beenthe roll of stones into the Quharity from Silver Hill, of which acorner has been missing since that day. Silver Hill is all stones, asif creation had been riddled there, and in the sun the mica on themshines like many pools of water.
At the roar, as they thought, of the cannon, the farmers looked upfrom their struggle with the flood to say, "That's Rintoul married,"as clocks pause simultaneously to strike the hour. Then every one inthe glen save Gavin and myself was done with Rintoul. Before the hillshad answered the noise, Gavin was on his way to the Spittal. The dogmust have been ten minutes in overtaking him, yet he maintainedafterward that it was with him from the start. From this we see thatthe shock he had got carried him some distance before he knew that hehad left the school-house. It also gave him a new strength, thathappily lasted longer than his daze of mind.
Gavin moved northward quicker than I came south, climbing over orwading through his obstacles, while I went round mine. After a time,too, the dog proved useful, for on discovering that it was goinghomeward it took the lead, and several times drew him to the rightroad to the Spittal by refusing to accompany him on the wrong road.Yet in two hours he had walked perhaps nine miles without being fourmiles nearer the Spittal. In that flood the glen milestones were threemiles apart.
For some time he had been following the dog doubtfully, for it seemedto be going too near the river. When they struck a cart-track,however, he concluded rightly that they were nearing a bridge. Hisfaith in his guide was again tested before they had been many minuteson this sloppy road. The dog stopped, whined, looked irresolute, andthen ran to the right, disappearing into the mist in an instant. Heshouted to it to come back, and was surprised to hear a whistle inreply. This was sufficient to make him dash after the dog, and in lessthan a minute he stopped abruptly by the side of a shepherd.
"Have you brocht it?" the man cried almost into Gavin's ear; yet theroar of the water was so tremendous that the words came faintly, as iffrom a distance. "Wae is me; is it only you, Mr. Dishart?"
"Is it only you!" No one in the glen would have addressed a ministerthus except in a matter of life or death, and Gavin knew it.
"He'll be ower late," the shepherd exclaimed, rubbing his handstogether in distress. "I'm speaking o' Whinbusses' grieve. He has runfor ropes, but he'll be ower late."
"Is there some one in danger?" asked Gavin, who stood, he knew notwhere, with this man, enveloped in mist.
"Is there no? Look!"
"There is nothing to be seen but mist; where are we?"
"We're on the high bank o' the Quharity. Take care, man; you wasstepping ower into the roaring water. Lie down and tell me if he'sthere yet. Maybe I just think that I see him, for the sicht is paintedon my een."
Gavin lay prone and peered at the river, but the mist came up to hiseyes. He only knew that the river was below from the sound.
"Is there a man down there?" he asked, shuddering.
"There was a minute syne; on a bit island."
"Why does he not speak?"
"He is senseless. Dinna move; the mist's clearing, and you'll see ifhe's there syne. The mist has been lifting and falling that way ilkaminute since me and the grieve saw him."
The mist did not rise. It only shook like a blanket, and then againremained stationary. But in that movement Gavin had seen twice, firstincredulously, and then with conviction.
"Shepherd," he said, rising, "it is Lord Rintoul."
"Ay, it's him; and you saw his feet was in the water. They were drywhen the grieve left me. Mr. Dishart, the ground he is on is beingwashed awa bit by bit. I tell you, the flood's greedy for him, andit'll hae him----Look, did you see him again?"
"Is he living?"
"We saw him move. Hst! Was that a cry?"
It was only the howling of the dog, which had recognized its masterand was peering over the bank, the body quivering to jump, but thelegs restless with indecision.
"If we were down there," Gavin said, "we could hold him secure tillrescue comes. It is no great jump."
"How far would you make it? I saw him again!"
"It looked further that time."
"That's it! Sometimes the ground he is on looks so near that you thinkyou could almost drop on it, and the next time it's yards and yardsawa. I've stood ready for the spring, Mr. Dishart, a dozen times, butI aye sickened. I daurna do it. Look at the dog; just when it'sstarting to jump, it pulls itsel' back."
As if it had heard the shepherd, the dog jumped at that instant.
"It sprang too far," Gavin said.
"It didna spring far enough."
They waited, and presently the mist thinned for a moment, as if it wasbeing drawn out. They saw the earl, but there was no dog.
"Poor brute," said the shepherd, and looked with awe at Gavin.
"Rintoul is slipping into the water," Gavin answered. "You won'tjump?"
"No, I'm wae for him, and----"
"Then I will," Gavin was about to say, but the shepherd continued,"And him only married twa hours syne."
That kept the words in Gavin's mouth for half a minute, and then hespoke them.
"Dinna think o't," cried the shepherd, taking him by the coat. "Theground he is on is slippery. I've flung a dozen stanes at it, and themthat hit it slithered off. Though you landed in the middle o't, youwould slide into the water."
"He shook himsel' free o' me," the shepherd told afterward, "and I sawhim bending down and measuring the distance wi' his een as cool as ifhe was calculating a drill o' tatties. Syne I saw his lips moving inprayer. It wasna spunk he needed to pray for, though. Next minutethere was me, my very arms prigging wi' him to think better o't, andhim standing ready to loup, his knees bent, and not a tremble in them.The mist lifted, and I----Lads, I couldna gie a look to the earl. Mr.Dishart jumped; I hardly saw him, but I kent, I kent, for I was on thebank alane. What did I do? I flung mysel' down in a sweat, and if eencould bore mist mine would hae done it. I thocht I heard theminister's death-cry, and may I be struck if I dinna believe now thatit was a skirl o' my ain. After that there was no sound but the jawo' the water; and I prayed, but no to God, to the mist to rise, andafter an awful time it rose, and I saw the minister was safe; he hadpulled the earl into the middle o' the bit island and was rubbing himback to consciousness. I sweat when I think o't yet."
The Little Minister's jump is always spoken of as a brave act in theglen, but at such times I am silent. This is not because, being timidmyself, I am without admiration for courage. My little maid says thatthree in every four of my poems are to the praise of prowess, and shehas not forgotten how I carried her on my shoulder once to Tilliedrumto see a soldier who had won the Victoria Cross, and made her shakehands with him, though he was very drunk. Only last year one of myscholars declared to me that Nelson never said "England expects everyman this day to do his duty," for which I thrashed the boy and senthim to the cooling-stone. But was it brave of Gavin to jump? I haveheard some maintain that only misery made him so bold, and others thathe jumped because it seemed a fine thing to risk his life for anenemy. But these are really charges of cowardice, and my boy was nevera coward. Of the two kinds of courage, however, he did not then showthe nobler. I am glad that he was ready for such an act, but he shouldhave remembered Margaret and Babbie. As it was, he may be said to haveforced them to jump with him. Not to attempt a gallant deed for whichone has the impulse, may be braver than the doing of it.
"Though it seemed as lang time," the shepherd says, "as I could haerun up a hill in, I dinna suppose it was many minutes afore I sawRintoul opening and shutting his een. The next glint I had o' themthey were speaking to ane another; ay, and mair than speaking. Theywere quarrelling. I couldna hear their words, but there was a momentwhen I thocht they were to grapple. Lads, the memory
o' that'll hingabout my deathbed. There was twa men, edicated to the highest pitch,ane a lord and the other a minister, and the flood was taking awa amouthful o' their footing ilka minute, and the jaws o' destruction wasgaping for them, and yet they were near fechting. We ken now it wasabout a woman. Ay, but does that make it less awful?"
No, that did not make it less awful. It was even awful that Gavin'sfirst words when Rintoul opened his eyes and closed them hastily were,"Where is she?" The earl did not answer; indeed, for the moment thewords had no meaning to him.
"How did I come here?" he asked feebly.
"You should know better than I. Where is my wife?"
"I remember now," Rintoul repeated several times. "Yes, I had left theSpittal to look for you--you were so long in coming. How did I findyou?"
"It was I who found you," Gavin answered. "You must have been sweptaway by the flood."
"And you too?"
In a few words Gavin told how he came to be beside the earl.
"I suppose they will say you have saved my life," was Rintoul'scommentary.
"It is not saved yet. If help does not come, we shall be dead men inan hour. What have you done with my wife?"
Rintoul ceased to listen to him, and shouted sums of money to theshepherd, who shook his head and bawled an answer that neither Gavinnor the earl heard. Across that thundering water only Gavin's voicecould carry, the most powerful ever heard in a Thrums pulpit, the onevoice that could be heard all over the Commonty during the time of thetent-preaching. Yet he never roared, as some preachers do of whom wesay, "Ah, if they could hear the Little Minister's word!"
Gavin caught the gesticulating earl by the sleeve, and said, "Anotherman has gone for ropes. Now, listen to me; how dared you go through amarriage ceremony with her, knowing her already to be my wife?"
Rintoul did listen this time.
"How do you know I married her?" he asked sharply.
"I heard the cannon."
Now the earl understood, and the shadow on his face shook and lifted,and his teeth gleamed. His triumph might be short-lived, but he wouldenjoy it while he could.
"Well," he answered, picking the pebbles for his sling with care, "youmust know that I could not have married her against her will. Thefrolic on the hill amused her, but she feared you might think itserious, and so pressed me to proceed with her marriage to-day despitethe flood."
This was the point at which the shepherd saw the minister raise hisfist. It fell, however, without striking.
"Do you really think that I could doubt her?" Gavin said compassionately,and for the second time in twenty-four hours the earl learned that hedid not know what love is.
For a full minute they had forgotten where they were. Now, again, thewater seemed to break loose, so that both remembered their dangersimultaneously and looked up. The mist parted for long enough to showthem that where had only been the shepherd was now a crowd of men,with here and there a woman. Before the mist again came between theminister had recognized many members of his congregation.
* * * * *
In his unsuccessful attempt to reach Whinbusses, the grieve had metthe relief party from Thrums. Already the weavers had helped WasterLunny to stave off ruin, and they were now on their way to Whinbusses,keeping together through fear of mist and water. Every few minutesSnecky Hobart rang his bell to bring in stragglers.
"Follow me," was all the panting grieve could say at first, but hisagitation told half his story. They went with him patiently, onlystopping once, and then excitedly, for they come suddenly on Rob Dow.Rob was still lying a prisoner beneath the tree, and the grieve nowremembered that he had fallen over this tree, and neither noticed theman under it nor been noticed by the man. Fifty hands released poorDow, and two men were commissioned to bring him along slowly while theothers hurried to the rescue of the earl. They were amazed to learnfrom the shepherd that Mr. Dishart also was in danger, and after "Isthere a woman wi' him?" some cried, "He'll get off cheap wi'drowning," and "It's the judgment o' God."
The island on which the two men stood was now little bigger than theround tables common in Thrums, and its centre was some feet fartherfrom the bank than when Gavin jumped. A woman, looking down at it,sickened, and would have toppled into the water, had not John Spensclutched her. Others were so stricken with awe that they forgot theyhad hands.
Peter Tosh, the elder, cast a rope many times, but it would not carry.The one end was then weighted with a heavy stone, and the other tiedround the waists of two men. But the force of the river had beenunderestimated. The stone fell short into the torrent, which rushedoff with it so furiously that the men were flung upon their faces andtrailed to the verge of the precipice. A score of persons sprang totheir rescue, and the rope snapped. There was only one other rope, andits fate was not dissimilar. This time the stone fell into the waterbeyond the island, and immediately rushed down stream. Gavin seizedthe rope, but it pressed against his body, and would have pushed himoff his feet had not Tosh cut it. The trunk of the tree that hadfallen on Rob Dow was next dragged to the bank and an endeavor made toform a sloping bridge of it. The island, however, was now soft andunstable, and, though the trunk was successfully lowered, it onlyknocked lumps off the island, and finally it had to be let go, as theweavers could not pull it back. It splashed into the water, and was atonce whirled out of sight. Some of the party on the bank began hastilyto improvise a rope of cravats and the tags of the ropes still left,but the mass stood helpless and hopeless.
"You may wonder that we could have stood still, waiting to see thelast o' them," Birse, the post, has said to me in the school-house,"but, dominie, I couldna hae moved, magre my neck. I'm a hale man, butif this minute we was to hear the voice o' the Almighty sayingsolemnly, 'Afore the clock strikes again, Birse, the post, will falldown dead of heart disease,' what do you think you would do? I'll tellyou. You would stand whaur you are, and stare, tongue-tied, at me tillI dropped. How do I ken? By the teaching o' that nicht. Ay, butthere's a mair important thing I dinna ken, and that is whether Iwould be palsied wi' fear like the earl, or face death with thecalmness o' the minister."
Indeed, the contrast between Rintoul and Gavin was now impressive.When Tosh signed that the weavers had done their all and failed, thetwo men looked in each other's faces, and Gavin's face was firm andthe earl's working convulsively. The people had given up attempting tocommunicate with Gavin save by signs, for though they heard hissonorous voice, when he pitched it at them, they saw that he caughtfew words of theirs. "He heard our skirls," Birse said, "but couldnagrip the words ony mair than we could hear the earl. And yet wescreamed, and the minister didna. I've heard o' Highlandmen wi' thesame gift, so that they could be heard across a glen."
"We must prepare for death," Gavin said solemnly to the earl, "and itis for your own sake that I again ask you to tell me the truth.Worldly matters are nothing to either of us now, but I implore you notto carry a lie into your Maker's presence."
"I will not give up hope," was all Rintoul's answer, and he againtried to pierce the mist with offers of reward. After that he becamedoggedly silent, fixing his eyes on the ground at his feet. I have anotion that he had made up his mind to confess the truth about Babbiewhen the water had eaten the island as far as the point at which hewas now looking.