Hugh, however, what seemed most terrible was the wild driving stormand the rush of the waves against the boat, which shivered under eachstroke as if she had received a mortal blow. Agrippa, wet andmiserable, cowered in his master's arms, and turned up a piteous littlewrinkled face full of inquiry. Hugh crept closer to his father, and atlast put his question--
"Shall we be drowned?"
Stephen turned and caught his hands in his.
"Nay, my little lad, I know not, I know not! I should not have broughtthee!"
The boy looked in his face gallantly.
"I am not frightened," he said, "only I wish poor Agrippa were safe."
They were silent again after this. Andrew was evidently uneasy; heshouted orders to the sailors, and strained his eyes through thebaffling mist as if he feared what might be in advance of him. Hishope, and it was a feeble one, consisted in the chance that he mightstrike the estuary of the Teign, avoiding the bar, and, as the tidewould be full, getting into the shelter of the river. He was one of themost skilful of the sailors of the west, knowing all the currents anddangers thoroughly; but navigation was then in its infancy, and vesselswere clumsy, lumbering things, suited but to calm weather, when theywould coast along from creek to creek. The bolder craft chieflybelonged to pirates. Still, England was beginning to awake to her seapowers, and Henry the Third had taken the title of Ruler of the Seas inhonour of a victory gained over the Spaniards. Andrew himself had beendown as far as Spain, and was held to be over-daring; moreover, hewanted to hasten his voyage and get back to his wife and to Moll,otherwise he would hardly have put out that morning in the teeth of apossible gale.
And now, although nothing was to be seen except perhaps what seemed likea thickening of the mist, Stephen knew from the master's face that thedanger was worse. He was so numb and cold himself as to feelindifferent to his own fate--besides, as he reflected, at the most itwas but shortening his life by a month or two--but his love for Hughwent up in a yearning cry that he might be saved. He touched him, andmade the boy put his ear close to his mouth.
"See here, Hugh," he said, with labouring breath, "if you are spared outof this coil thou must make thy way to Exeter. The Franciscans willtake thee in at first, but thou must seek out James Alwyn. I mind methat was the name of thy mother's cousin. Get him to apprentice theewhere thou canst learn thy trade. Thou hast it in thee--do not forget."
"No, father," said poor little Hugh, glancing fearfully round.
It was but a minute after that, or so it seemed, that they heard a cryfrom one of the sailors. The wall of mist had suddenly become solid; itloomed before them in unmistakable cliffs, so near that the man who wassteering dropped the rudder and fell upon his knees. With a cry of rageAndrew leaped back from the bows, seized the rudder, and using all hisstrength forced her head somewhat round. It was a strange sight, thisstruggle of the man with the elements. The man standing undaunted inthe midst of a hurly-burly which threatened quick death, facing hisdanger without flinching, resolute, bent upon snatching every advantagewhich skill could give him. That the vessel was drifting against thewall of red rock before them was plain; Stephen, clutching Hugh in hisarms, wondered that the master should hope to avert it. Suddenly he sawAndrew's face change. He set his teeth, and slackening the rudder drovestraight for the cliffs.
There was a breathless pause; the next minute the vessel struck a smallsandy beach, driven up it and wedged there by the uplifting force of thewaves. The master's keen eye had noted the one comparative chance ofsafety, and had tried for it. Almost as the ship touched the sailorssprang forward and leaped into the sea. Only Andrew, Bassett, Hugh andAgrippa remained on board.
CHAPTER SIX.
A WEARY JOURNEY.
The first sensation had been one of deliverance. The second was morelike despair.
The waves breaking against rocks and shore looked more terrible than outin the open sea, and this sudden rush for safety on the part of the menhad something about it so cowardly that it produced in Stephen awretched sense of desolation. He supposed that in another moment Andrewwould have followed his fellow sailors, and they would be left alone.Andrew had in fact rushed to the bows as the men leaped over, andStephen, bitter in spirit at such a cruel desertion, strained his boy inhis arms so that, if he could do no more, he might at least hide deathfrom him.
He almost started when he heard a voice. The master was standing overhim with a face full of rage.
"The cowardly loons!" he cried; "I would the waves had choked them! NoDevon man would have played such a trick. I knew they were helplessoafs, but to save their skins like that! If they had stopped it wouldhave been easy enough, but now we must think how to get thee on shore."Stephen sprang up.
"Think not on me. My life is nothing. Save Hugh, and I ask no more."
Andrew stared at him and began to laugh.
"Prithee, dost thou suppose I should leave thee here to drown? Why oneof thy precious drones' hive would scarce be so unmanly, though, intruth, I can say nought against them after those base knaves of mine.But now, see here, if I fasten a rope round the mast--which will holdyet awhile--and go ashore with the other end, canst thou find thy way?"
"The boy first."
"Ay, the boy first, and the monkey with him, if the beast has the senseto hold on. Thou wilt want both hands for thyself, Hugh."
"I will tie him to me," cried the boy, hopefully. His hopes had risenwith Andrew's cheerfulness, and as for Bassett, with the revulsion offeeling, a new and extraordinary strength seemed to have come to him; hehelped the master to fasten the rope securely, and stood, unheeding thebuffet of wind and waves, watching the sailor when he had cast himselfinto the sea, and was fighting his way towards the shore. Once or twicehe was sucked back by the retreating water and nigh overwhelmed, and thetime seemed endless before they made out that he had gained a footing,and was with the other men on the beach. His shout only faintly touchedtheir ears.
"Now, Hugh," said Bassett firmly.
They had bound poor Agrippa as closely to him as they could, while roundhis own neck the carver had disposed a bag with money and such smallspecimens of his workmanship as were portable. His tools he wasreluctantly obliged to leave behind him; his breathing could bear nofurther weight.
"Thou wilt be sorely scratched by Agrippa," he said. He was so hopefulhe could smile. But the monkey was so cowed that he only clung closely,turning his head piteously from side to side, and realising thatsomething terrible was about to happen. Hugh bore himself manfully.
One or two of the sailors who had escaped, finding themselves safe, wereready to help Andrew with the rope, and though the boy was half chokedand sorely beaten by the waves, he held on, reaching the shore after atremendous tussle, by the end of which he was so spent that he fanciedhe must drop, when he felt himself clutched by Andrew and drawn throughthe remaining waves. He lay for a time exhausted on the beach; but lifewas young and strong in him, and he staggered to his feet, tried tocomfort and warm the poor monkey, and to watch for his father's coming.
Andrew had scarcely thought that Bassett would have the strength to bearthe passage through the surf. It relieved him greatly to find that thecarver was slowly nearing the shore. Now and then he disappeared underthe crest of a great wave, but he always reappeared, holding on with atenacity which was little less than miraculous. Andrew, though even hisstrength was pretty well spent, again cast himself into the sea to helphim in his last struggle, and the carver by his aid managed to reach theshore, but in so terrible a plight that Hugh cried out and flung himselfby his side.
And now a very dreadful thing happened, for, as Stephen lay there like alog and Hugh knelt calling on him to look up, the waves, which had butjust had their prey snatched from them, as if they meant to show that inanother case they had had their way, brought up something large and darkand motionless, and flung it at their very feet; and while Hugh,scarcely recognising what it was, yet shrank from it as from somefearful thing, two of the men ran hastily dow
n and seized and dragged itbeyond the water's reach. Hugh caught the face then, and gave a cry ofhorror; it was the boy Jakes--dead.
He must have swooned after this, for when he came to himself again hewas lying higher up, at the mouth of a small natural cave formed in thesandstone rock. His father sat by him, and in the cave a fire ofbrushwood had been lit, close to which crouched Agrippa, munching blackrye bread soaked in sea water, and jabbering with satisfaction.
"Father," said the boy, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, "are we safe?"
"Saved by a miracle, my little lad."
"But Jakes--his face--what was it!"
"He was drowned," said Bassett, gravely; "he never got to land with theothers. Eat some of this bread; I had it in my pocket."
"Is anyone else drowned?" asked Hugh, shuddering.
"No,
Prentice Hugh Page 12