*CHAPTER VIII.*
*A RAGING SEA.*
The boys rushed in exclaiming, "Audrey, Audrey! the ship is foundering!The men are getting off into the boat, and they can't keep its head tothe sea. She swings round broadside to the waves, and must be filling.Is there a rope about the hut--anywhere, anywhere; a long, strong rope,dear Audrey?"
How should she know what was in the hut? But she knew what was put inthe cart: the ropes which tied the load were there. She had pulled themout of the shed with the harness herself.
Off went Edwin, shouting, "A rope! a rope! a kingdom for a rope!"
Cuthbert released himself from the leash, which was dragging him alongtoo fast, and ran back to his sister.
"Did you hear the singing?" she asked. "Did you see the men ride past?They are gone to the rescue, Cuth; they are gone to father's help. MayGod reward them all."
"And will you come to ours?" he said. "Audrey, you could feed the fire.Edwin and I have got a lot of wood together. You have only to keepthrowing it on; and then I can help Edwin."
"'What lads e'er did our lads will do; Were I a lad I'd follow him too,'"
she answered, slipping her shawl from under Effie's head and tying itonce more over her own. They went out together. Cuthbert helped her upthe rock, pulled a big root in to the front of the fire to make her aseat, and left her a willing stoker. He had pointed out the tinycockle-shell of a boat--a small dark speck beyond the sheet of boilingfoam, with the hungry, curling waves leaping after it.
Could it escape swamping in the outer line of breakers it could neverhope to cross? It was running before them now. Edwin had put Beautyonce more into the cart, and was carefully knotting the rope to the backof it.
He had learned to tie a safety-knot--a sailor's knot--on their voyageout. Thank God for that! It whiled away an idle hour at the time; nowit might prove the saving of human creatures' lives. That the cart washeavy and lumbering and strong was cause for rejoicing.
"You and I, Cuth, could not pull a man through such a sea; but Beautycan. We know how well he crossed the ford. I shall back him into thewater as far as ever I can, and then jump into the cart and throw therope. You see my plan?"
"I do," said Cuth; "but as soon as you leave go of Beauty's head he'llcome splashing back again out of the water. You must have me in thecart to hold his reins."
"I dare not," protested Edwin. "A shrimp like you would be washed outto sea in no time; and I promised father to take care of you. No, Cuth,you are not yet ten years old."
"I am sure I look a good bit older than that, in father's coat," urgedCuthbert, looking down upon himself with considerable satisfaction; butEdwin was inexorable. "Tie me in the cart, then," cried Cuthbert.
"Where is the old leash?"
It was quickly found, and Edwin owned the thought was a good one.
When all was ready a sudden impulse prompted them to run back into thehut and look at Erne, and then up the rock for a final word with Audrey.They found her already wet with the salt sea spray, and almost torn topieces by the wind, but, as Edwin said, "at it all the same."
The final word was spoken, reiterated, shouted; who, alas! could hear itin the rage of the storm? So it came to a snatch of kiss, and away theyran, leaving Audrey with the impression that the moving lips were tryingto repeat, "Keep us a jolly blaze."
Voice being useless on such a morning, Audrey made answer by action, andflung her brands upon the fire with such rapidity that the column offlame rose higher and higher, flinging its fitful gleams across thesands, where the boys were busy.
The recent voyage had taken away all fear of the sea even from Cuthbert,who was already tied to the front of the cart, with Beauty's reins inhis hand, holding him in with all his might. Edwin, with his teeth setand a white look about his lips, had seized the horse's head, and wasbacking him into the water. Splash, splash into the wall of wave, risinghigher and higher at every step, and almost lifting Edwin off his feet.Then he swung himself into the cart by Cuthbert's side. Beauty felt hisfirmer grasp as the reins changed hands, and turning his head with alook in his resolute eye that showed him a willing partner in the daringplan, he reversed the position, choosing rather to breast the opposingbillows. Edwin let him have his way, and with a dash and a snort heplunged into their midst, carrying the boys full fifteen yards into theraging sea. The brothers clung to the cart as the waves dashed in theirfaces. Caps were gone in a moment. The cart was filling. Beauty heldhis head high above the water, and struggled on another yard or so.Then Edwin felt they must go no further, and turned the cart round.
It was no easy matter to make Beauty stand. His natural sense ofdanger, his high intelligence, his increasing love for the boys, allprompted him to bring them out of the water, not to stay in it. He wasbent on rushing back to dry ground, as Cuthbert had predicted. The boysthundered "Whoa, whoa!" with all the endearing epithets they were wontto lavish upon him in his stable. He was brought to a stand at last,and Edwin, raising himself on the side of the cart, looked round for theboat.
It was nowhere. His heart sank cold within him.
"O Cuth, we are too late, too late!" he groaned.
Then Audrey's fire sent up a brighter blaze, and hope leaped lightlyinto life once more, and he cried out joyfully, "I see it!" but stoppedabruptly, almost drawing back his words with bated breath.
The momentary glimpse had shown him the luckless boat, blown along bythe force of the wind, without the help of an oar, dash into thebursting crest of a giant roller. It flung the boat across the line ofboiling foam. The men in it, finding their oars useless, were kickingoff their boots, preparing for a swim. He knew it by their attitudes.He seized the pole they had put in the cart to use as a signal. It wasa willow sapling, torn up by its roots, which they had found when theywere gathering the firewood.
Cuthbert had peeled off the bark at the thin end, whilst Edwin hadtwisted its pliant boughs into a strong hoop, to tie at the end of hisrope.
As Edwin raised it high above his head--a tall, white wand, which mustbe conspicuous in the surrounding darkness--he saw the boat turn over,the angry waves rush on, and all was gone. A cry of dismay broke fromthe brothers' lips: "Lord help us, or they perish!"
"I could not have done this without you, Cuth. We are only two boys, butnow is our hour."
Edwin had learned a great deal from the sailors' stories during theirvoyage, and he had been a crack kite-flier on the playground at hisEnglish school; so that he was quite alive to the importance of keepinghis rope free from entanglement, which really is the vital point inthrowing a rope at sea. He had laid it carefully on the bottom of thecart, fold upon fold, backwards and forwards, and Cuth had stood upon itto keep it in place. The hoop lay on the top of the coil, and to thehoop he had tied the plaid-scarf from his own neck, to serve it as asail.
The paralyzing fear came over him now that whilst they were doing allthis the time for help had gone by. "But we won't stop trying," hesaid, "if it seems ever so hopeless; God only knows."
He took his brother's place on the coil of rope, and unfolding a yard ortwo, flung the hoop from him, taking aim at the spot where the boat hadcapsized. The wind caught the scarf and bore the hoop aloft; Edwin lethis rope go steadily, fold after fold. Would it carry it straight?Would the men see his scarf fluttering in the wind? He felt sure a handmight catch the hoop if they only saw it. But, alas, it was so small!He leaned against his brother back to back, and if the hot tears came itwas because he was only a boy. Cuthbert put a hand behind him. Therewas comfort to him in the touch. One burning drop just trickled on histhumb.
"What, you crying!" he exclaimed; "is not praying better?"
"God have mercy on us!" burst from Edwin's lips; and Cuthbert echoedback the gasping words. Had they ever prayed like that before? All,all that was in them seemed to pour itself forth in that moment ofsuspense, when God alone could hear.
A PERILOUS RESCUE
.]
The rope tightened in Edwin's grasp; something had clutched it at last.The tug had come. Would his knots give way? He was faint with the fearthat his work was not well done--not strong enough to stand the strainwhich he felt was increasing every moment. It seemed to him, as hewatched with every sense alert and tried to its uttermost, that eachsuccessive earthquake shock, as it heaved the land, sent a correspondingwave across the sea. One of these had carried out his hoop, and he knewhe must wait until it subsided to draw his rope in, or it might snaplike pack-thread under the awful strain.
"O Edwin, I am getting so tired!" said little Cuth, in a tone of suchutter exhaustion it went like a knife through his brother to hear him.
"Only another minute," he replied; "just another minute--if we can holdon."
The longed-for lull was coming. Edwin gave Beauty his head; but thepoor horse was stiffened with standing, and almost refused to move.Then Edwin tied himself to the cart.
"O Beauty, if you fail us we are done!"
The despairing cry roused the torpid energies of the horse. With astretch and a snort he tugged and strained, dragging his load a yard ortwo landwards. A man's head appeared above the water. The joy of thesight brought back hope and capability. It was but a spasmodic effort;but Beauty caught the thrill of joy animating the boyish voices,cheering him on to renewed exertions. The wheels splashed round in thewater; a cloud of muddy spray rose between Edwin and the rescued man.He could not see the sailor's face. The fire was dying. Was all thewood they had gathered--all that great heap--burnt up at last?
Audrey raked the dying brands together, and a fresh flame shot upwards,and by its welcome radiance Edwin was aware of two hands working theirway along the tightened rope, one over the other, towards the cart.
The tightened rope! Yes; that was proof that some one had grasped thehoop. In another moment that stranger hand was clasping Edwin's in thedarkness that was following fast upon those fitful flames.
"Hold hard!" shouted a stentorian voice, and a man got up into the cartbeside him. A deep-drawn breath, a muttered prayer, and the strong,powerful hands clasped over Edwin's, and began to draw in the rope.
Not a word was said, for the boys had no voice left to make themselvesheard. The last shout of joy to Beauty had left them spent and faint.The stranger, surprised at the smallness and feebleness of the hand henow let go, gently pushed the boy aside and took his place. Edwinleaned against the front of the cart beside his brother, dead beat andscarcely conscious of anything but a halo of happiness radiating fromthe blessed consciousness which found expression in a murmured, "Cuth,old boy, we've done it."
The reins fell slack on Beauty's neck, but the good horse needed noguiding. He seemed aware that two more men got up into the cart, andwhen a pause followed he gave his proud head a triumphant toss, andbrought them up out of the water. There were three men in the cart andtwice as many more holding on by the rope.
Audrey ran down from the dying fire to meet them.
A strange, unnatural kind of twilight, a something weird and ghastly,belonging to neither day nor night, seemed to pervade the land, and sheda sepulchral gleam across the men's pale faces. Audrey pushed open thedoor of the hut and beckoned to the sailors to enter.
They gathered round her, shaking the salt water from their drippinggarments, and uttering broken exclamations of surprise and thankfulness.She saw a boy in the midst of the group limping painfully. As shehurried up to his assistance, she discovered that it was neither Edwinnor Cuthbert; but he grasped her outstretched hand so thankfully shecould not withdraw it. There was a wildness in the alarm with which shebegan to ask them for her brothers the men could not mistake. They gavethe forlorn girl an almost unanimous assurance that they knew nothing ofher brothers. For the men clinging to the rope had not seen the boys inthe cart. "But," added one heartily, "we'll protect you, for there iswild work afoot somewhere to-night. We have heard the cannonading,broadside after broadside, or we should not have gone rock-hunting inthe dark. It is fool's work--you can give it no better name--coastingalong a dangerous shore, with a sky too black for moon or star topenetrate."
"Yon's the little maid who fed the beacon," said another. "I saw hermove across the front of the fire and throw her sticks upon it. Godbless her! Every minute I thought we should see her blown over into thesea."
"Not me, not me," interposed poor Audrey.
Getting free in her desperation, and pressing between the sailors, sheran towards Beauty, who was slowly lagging round to the back of the hut.
"If my brothers are missing," she cried, "they must have been washed outof the cart." She clasped her hands before her eyes to shut out thesight of the drowning boys which imagination was picturing, and sofailed to perceive the two weary heads leaning against the side of thecart. It was but a moment of agony, one of the unfounded alarms whichalways cluster round a real danger and follow the shock of dread likeits shadow.
"Edwin, Edwin! where are you?" she cried.--"Cuthbert, Cuthbert! come tome!"
The rocks gave back the hollow echo, "Come to me!"
But she did not hear two faint voices feebly expostulating, "We tiedourselves to the cart, and we can't undo the knots. We are here, liketwo galley-slaves chained to the oars, and we can't get out."
A shock of earthquake sent Beauty with a shiver of terror straight tothe open. The men threw themselves on their faces, knowing how easilythey might lose their footing on the reeling ground; whilst Audrey,neglecting this precaution, went over like a nine-pin.
The hut shook as if its carefully-piled walls were about to give way,and Audrey, who had seen their house go down in the beginning of thisfearful night, shrieked out for Effie.
As the tremor subsided, and the sailors gathered from poor Audrey'sbroken sentences some idea of the awful catastrophe on land, they turnedfrom the hut, judging it safer to remain in the open.
Mates were looking out for mates. Were they all there? Captain,boatswain, cook--not one of the little coaster's crew was missing.Passengers all right: a gold-digger from Otago, the schoolboy fromChristchurch. Are all saved? Only the hand which threw the rope wasmissing.
Who backed the cart into the sea? they asked; and where was Oscott?
When they learned from Audrey's frantic replies that every man had goneto the rescue, and the little fugitives had been left in the hut alone,the sailors' desire to find the missing boys was as earnest as her own.
They pointed to the cart jogging steadily across the grassy plain,dotted with sheep, and shaded here and there by groups of stately trees.
"God bless the young heroes!" they exclaimed. "Why, there they are--offto the mansion to beg for tucker for us all."
Audrey, set at rest from this last great fear, escaped from herquestioners, and retreated to Effie and the empty hut, sayingreproachfully,--
"How just like Edwin! But they might have told me what they were goingto do."
It seemed a moment's reprieve. There was nothing more to be done.Audrey sank upon the bed of fern leaves, weary and wet and worn, unableany longer to resist the craving for a little sleep.
The sailors lit a fire on the open grass beyond the hut, and groupedthemselves round it to talk and rest. The poor fellows who had beendragged to shore, clinging to the rope, found their shoeless feet cutand bleeding from the sharp edges of the oyster-shells with which thesands were studded. But when an hour or more passed by, the sunlessnoon brought with it sharper pangs of hunger to them all.
No cart had returned, no boundary rider had put in an appearance, andthe men began to talk of a walk over the grass to find the mansion.They were all agreed as to the best course for them to pursue. They mustturn "sundowners"--the up-country name for beggars--tramp across to thenearest port, begging their way from farm to farm. They knew very wellno lonely settler dare refuse supper and a night's lodging to a party ofmen strong enough to take by force what they wanted.
The embankment with its swinging fence, the shepherd's hut where
thegirls were sleeping, told them where they were--on the confines of agreat sheep-run. Their route must begin with the owner's mansion, whichcould not be very far off, as there was no food in the hut, and noapparent means for cooking any, so Audrey had told them. But now thestorm was dying, the captain rose to look round the hut for himself. Hewas wondering what to do with the Christchurch boy he had undertaken toland at another great sheep-run about twenty-five miles farther alongthe coast It was of no use to take him back with them, a hundred milesthe other way. He hoped to leave him at the mansion. The owner must bea wealthy man, and would most likely undertake to put the boy on boardthe next steamer, which would pass that way in a week or ten days.
So he called to the boy to go with him, and explained his purpose asthey went. They waked up Audrey, to ask the owner's name.
"Feltham," she answered, putting her hand to her head to recall herscattered senses; between rabbiters and sailors she was almost dazed.
To be left alone again in that empty hut, without food, without herbrothers, was enough to dismay a stouter heart than hers. The captainspoke kindly.
"I want to see you all safe in this sheep-owner's care before I leaveyou," he said. "It was stupid in those brothers of yours to go off withthe cart, for you are too exhausted to walk."
"Did you ever hear the name of Bowen in these parts?" asked theChristchurch boy eagerly, nursing a bleeding foot the while.
Audrey thought of the kind old gentleman in Ottley's coach, andanswered, brightening.
"I am his grandson," the boy replied. "I am Arthur Bowen."
Doing and Daring: A New Zealand Story Page 8