Ah! There came the breakers pounding like a great beast against the rock, roaring wildly into the cave behind her as if searching for her where she had been, and strangely enough not hurling her off her feet as she had expected. She seemed to be held in a little haven where the worst force of the waves could not reach, a spot out of the path of the tide as it rushed in.
And as the water hastened madly away again out to sea, seeming to babble angrily that she had escaped its fury, she felt herself drawn slowly with it, closer, and yet closer to the rock, and lifted slightly till her feet suddenly found a little foothold in a crevice of the rock.
Her heart beat wildly. Was this the beginning of the path up to the top of the rock?
She felt with the other foot, a little higher up, and, yes, surely there was a step, wide and low, and a place for her hand to hold. Could she get up before another awful volume of water overwhelmed her?
She sensed that on this side of the rock, a little farther to the left, there was comparative calm, and here strangely she found the foothold led. She crept on like a little frightened bird, out of breath and drenched and cold, yet clinging. Whenever the water surged around her feet again, she would just put her face close to the rock and cling, and always above the water’s roar she could hear her mother’s voice singing.
Once she almost lost her hold and felt herself slipping back, for the water was still above her knees, but when the next wave receded, she managed to draw herself on higher up. How high was that rock? High enough to stay above the highest wave?
Little by little she drew herself up, clinging with hands and arms and weary aching feet, sobbing as she crept along and beginning to pray as she sobbed.
“O Rock! Hide me! Hide me! Hide me!”
After what seemed like ages, she drew herself at last entirely out of the water where she could see the little rocky steps up to the summit, and inch by inch she finished the way and lay down upon that broad flat top. She remembered thinking as she dropped back and closed her tired eyes that it was about the size of a bed and wondering if the water would get high enough to wash her away from it. There was nothing to cling to here, just broad flat rock, worn smooth by many suns and seas.
After she was rested a little, she sat up and looked around her but was almost too terrified to stand it. The sea was all around her everywhere, and night was coming on. Was it night or only an awful storm? Her senses were too dazed to understand. Yes, a storm perhaps, for there were great dark clouds of purple and copper in the sky, and a ship with gray sails closely reefed was scuttling off in fright against the horizon, masts tilted ahead like one running, and there was jagged lightning in the sky. It was awesomely beautiful out there, like doom and the Judgment Day, and she could not look at it. She bent her head, shut her eyes again, and prayed. When that storm broke, where would she be?
Somewhere down along that shoreline not so very far away was Rainbow Cottage, and peace and safety. What a fool she had been! What an awful fool! What did it matter what that silly Jacqueline had said? Even about her precious mother? Words could not hurt her anymore. She was gone from this earth. Words of a girl like that meant nothing anyway. She had only been trying to anger her, trying to keep her from having anything to do with Angus Galbraith. Just words flung out like darts. Jacqueline had been battling for herself. She, Sheila, should not have minded. Even the infuriating insinuations could not have insulted either herself or her parents if she had not chosen to take them that way. What a silly fool she had been! She had condescended to fight—she who had taken Christ for her Savior, fighting with a girl who obviously did not know Him.
She put her face down into her cold, wet hands and sobbed.
“Oh, forgive me, God. Forgive me, please!” she cried aloud into the seclusion of the howling storm.
It was very dark. The storm was rushing on, roaring terrifically. Lurid colors appeared in the sky, wild jaws of death in the sea, towering now and then even above her rock, rearing up like walls and threatening then dropping and breaking with tempestuous noise just below where she was stranded.
All the little frightened ships on the horizon line had fled for safety. The storm had the sea to itself as far as she could see. It was dark. Frightfully dark. Off at her right, far away in the vague grayness and blackness, a searchlight shot out its fitful glare, darted across the scene, clashed with the play of lightning, and shot in again. That must be the revolving light Grandmother had told her about.
Far down the beach, a little light just like a speck of stardust appeared. That would be perhaps where Rainbow Cottage stood. It might be that Janet had a light in the kitchen. Or, no, the wall around the kitchen garden would hide that. It must be a light upstairs. Maybe in the north window of the room that had been hers!
Oh, what a fool, what a fool! To have left that pleasant haven, that shelter that God had sent her to, just because she was angry and did what was beneath a guest of the house—slapped another guest, a member of the family, too! Just like a little beast she had been, snarling and fighting! Why had she let her hot temper get the better of her? How many times had her mother warned her that she had a hasty pride inherited from her father that would be her undoing, as it had been his, if she did not take control of it! Ah! But it was too late now! She had driven herself out of that lovely home, and the love of her Grandmother, and the place where God had meant her to be safe.
It took another hour of terror and slowly approaching death to bring Sheila to see that, even after she had done that hasty deed that put her in the wrong, she should not have run away. That it was only pride and unwillingness to confess herself in the wrong and humbly ask pardon that had sent her flying from that loving care. She should have gone straight to Grandmother and told her what had happened, should have gone straight to Jacqueline and asked her to forgive. It would have been humiliating, yes, but when one has lost control of one’s self and done wrong, one should be humiliated.
God showed her herself there upon that tiny islet in that great howling storm. God spoke to her little, frightened soul. Earthly things fell away. The crashing heaven opened brilliant gateways in the blackness of the clouds and clashed them shut again. The other world seemed just above the rending of the skies. She gave a frightened look above. There were distinct layers of clouds of different colors each whirling in a separate course and horrid green and copper lights shivering in between them, with jagged lines of lightning flashing up and down the sky.
The water was rising now, she could sense that, even though it was too dark to see distinctly. Each time a great mountain of a wave rose between her and the horizon it was higher than before. The spray was dashing in her face. Her clothing was soaked through. Her hair, too. Her hat was gone, she did not know how long ago. She had no memory of where or when it had fallen. She was freezing cold and shivering like a leaf in a gale, but she was scarcely aware of that, there was so much shivering, moving, noise around her. Her teeth were chattering, and her face was wet with tears and spray.
She sat up again and braced her arms out behind her, the flat of her hands upon the smooth rock, trying to find some place to cling, some way to make a suction between her hand and the rock, but it was slippery and frightening. She felt dizzy and terrified.
Shuddering, she lay down again and closed her eyes. It could not be so long now before that water would wash over her rock. There was no doubt about it any longer. Did it take long to die by drowning? Was it more than a gasp and a choking and then the end? She was not afraid to die, and she knew that it did not matter what became of the body after death, but somehow it seemed so terrifying to be swept off into that wide sea, to be tossed about by cruel waves, thrown against unknown rocks. Floating down, down, and out among the strange, ferocious inhabitants of the ocean. She wouldn’t know it, of course. They wouldn’t be able to frighten her when she was dead—those terrible sharks and whales and other sea creatures about which she had read—but the thought of them now was petrifying. Oh, if the end would only haste
n! Let it come quickly and be over!
She lay there trying to take her mind from such thoughts, trying to pray, trying to be calm. And then she felt the first wave really wash across her body and suck away back into the briny deep, holding her down for the moment, sucking her close to the rock. Just for the instant, it comforted her that the water was helping to anchor her to her rock.
It was some time before another wave reached so far, but when it came it destroyed her confidence, for it lifted her up for just an instant and gave her that awful feeling of helplessness in the hands of the great, cruel, mighty ocean.
When it receded again, she clutched at her rock and began to pray.
“Oh God, please forgive me. Please make Grandmother know I am sorry. And please take me Home quick! I am so afraid!”
Was her mother out there in the storm calling to her to let her know she need not be afraid? She closed her eyes and tried to listen, and there came the old hymn just as she had sung it the night she died:
Other refuge have I none;
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, ah! Leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me.
All my trust on Thee is stayed,
All my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenseless head
With the shadow of Thy wing.
It comforted her to listen. It helped her not to be so afraid when the next great wave lifted her higher than before and almost washed her off the far edge of the rock into the sea. She was surprised when it ebbed away and left her still on the firm stone. She gathered strength to creep back as far to the inner edge as possible without rolling off. But she knew that only another wave or two and she would go.
She was deadly weary. If she could only go to sleep and not know when the next wave came. If she only needn’t feel that choking sensation of drowning. She had never been around water very much. The little creek near the Junction House was the only body of water for miles around. A great body of water filled her with a fearful terror, now that the sun and the blue sky were gone.
It seemed very dark. The thunder was not so loud, and there was only a shiver of lightning now and then as if its strength had been nearly spent. The wildness of the clouds was passing over, too, but it meant nothing to her anymore. The cold and the terror and the weariness had her indomitable young spirit almost quenched.
It was nearly time for that last wave. She would be at Home forever. Christ had said it: “He that believeth,” and she believed. “He that…believeth…hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life!” The little pink book that Grandmother had given to her on Sunday had explained all that. And she believed. Yes, she believed. It was all right.
There! There was the roar of the oncoming wave. This would end the agony. Was that a voice she heard high above? Was that an arm around her? What was that verse her mother used to say: “Underneath are the everlasting arms”? Ah, God must have sent an angel to help her through this last wave. He wouldn’t, of course, have come Himself, just to help a little lost girl all alone. But it was good to be held. Perhaps she was only dreaming or delirious, but there stood the wave towering up far above her. There seemed to be a light behind it. Perhaps that was the glory from heaven’s gate.
Now the wave was coming downward.
It fell with drenching drowning power, and the light went out as she went under gasping. This was the end!
Chapter 15
When Grandmother came up from the cellar where she had been inspecting a leaking water pipe, she looked around for Sheila and could not find her. Then she called Jacqueline but was answered after long waiting and several calls by a smothered “What is it?” from the yellow guest room.
“Do you know where Sheila is?” asked Grandmother.
By this time the door of the yellow room was open a crack, and a petulant voice answered, “Mercy no! How should I know where that little prodigy is? We don’t inhabit the same atmosphere.”
Grandmother went out into the garden and looked around everywhere, calling softly. There were not so many places in the garden to hide unless one stooped down behind the lilies or crept between the hollyhocks. And the garden wall or under the rose trellis. Grandmother looked in all these places but found no trace of Sheila.
“That’s strange,” she said to herself and went out the wicket gate and walked down beside the garden wall a few steps until she could look all up and down the beach, for she thought surely she must have gone to walk beside the sea.
But there was no one in sight up or down the beach. Grandmother peered each way and then hurried back into the house and looked the first floor over thoroughly again, even calling to Janet who was still down in the cellar wiping up the floor and placing buckets to catch the drip till the plumber came.
“No, ma’am, I ain’t seen her,” said Janet, “but I thought I heard her go up to her room when I come up that time ta get the mop.”
Grandmother mounted the stairs and tapped at Sheila’s closed door, but no answer came. Then she turned the knob and went in, but Sheila was not there. How strange! Where could the child be?
The closet door was open a crack, and a blue morning dress hung on the hook of the door. Grandmother stopped, startled. Wasn’t that the dress Sheila had worn to breakfast?
She swung the closet door open. Yes, it surely was. Why had she changed her dress so soon? She wouldn’t have put on her new bathing suit and gone into the water alone, would she? Perhaps she wanted to get used to it when no one was around. But that was not safe. She oughtn’t to have gone in the first time alone, when she was quite unused to an undertow and didn’t know how to swim.
Grandmother cast a hasty glance from the window but saw no one down by the waves. Mercy! Suppose she had gone down where the quicksand was and got out beyond her depth before she realized!
Grandmother hurried downstairs again and out the door, through the wicket gate and out upon the sand again, walking briskly down toward the water, not an easy walk for an old lady when she was excited.
Suddenly she realized how futile it was for her to go out there. What could she do if Sheila was in trouble? She would call Jacqueline. She was a fine swimmer, a regular fish in the water.
She hurried back and called Jacqueline.
That young woman appeared with her face covered with cold cream.
“I’m taking a facial,” she announced uncompromisingly. “I couldn’t think of going into the water now. Besides, I have a date later in the morning. I’m going horseback riding with Malcolm Galbraith.”
“With Malcolm!” said Grandmother in dismay. “Isn’t Betty going, too?”
“Mercy no, I hope not,” said Jacqueline. “She rides like a cow.”
“But he is a married man, Jacqueline. You shouldn’t go off riding with him.”
Jacqueline laughed a merry little trill.
“Oh, Aunt Myra! You are too quaint for words! Did they really stop for things like that when you were a girl?”
“Well, you’ll have to take your cousin Sheila with you, anyway,” said Grandmother with her head high and a dangerous look in her eyes. “I’ll telephone to the stables at the village for a horse for her.”
“Indeed, you’ll do nothing of the kind!” shouted Jacqueline. “I don’t want that little spitfire alone with me. If you try to send her, I’ll see that she has a mighty uncomfortable time of it.”
“Jacqueline, what have you been doing to your cousin? Where is she?” asked Grandmother in sudden new alarm. “Have you been rude to her?”
“Dear me!” said Jacqueline. “How should I know what was counted rude a century ago? If you mean is Sheila sore at me, yes, I surmise she is. The trouble with her is she wants all the attention herself and she resents my being here. She as much as told me she had first rights in Angus Galbraith. She’s a little cat, Aunt Myra, and you’ll find it out pretty soon.”
“Jacqueline, that is not true! Your cousin never
said such a thing! What have you done with her?”
“I?” laughed Jacqueline, slapping another gob of cream on her face. “Far be it from me to try to do anything with her. If you mean where is she, I haven’t the slightest idea, and I certainly am not going out to comb the sea and find her. If she hasn’t enough sense to stay out of the water, let her drown. It’s not up to me!” And Jacqueline went into her room, slamming the door and turning the key noisily in the lock.
Grandmother regarded the shut door sternly for a moment and then swung around and went to the telephone, calling long distance and shortly getting her eldest son on the line.
“Maxwell, Jacqueline is up here and is making a lot of worry for me. I wish you would come up and do something about it. You always could manage her. If you don’t want to do it yourself, hunt up her father and make him do it. I’ve got my hands full, and something’s got to be done.”
“Jacqueline!” said the uncle, thoughtfully. “Why, I thought she was up in Canada or the mountains or somewhere.”
“She was, but she came down here to cultivate your friend from London.”
“Oh, so that’s how the land lies. Well, look here, Mother, what’s this I hear about another granddaughter of yours being up there? Is that so?”
“Certainly,” said Grandmother in her most imperial tone. “Your brother Andrew’s daughter, Sheila, is here. She came in answer to my invitation.”
“H’m! Well, that’s probably the matter with Jacqueline. She’s jealous, isn’t she? And I don’t know as I blame her, having to compete with a girl of that type!”
“What type did you say, Maxwell?” asked his mother severely.
“Well, you know better than I,” hedged the son uncomfortably. “Certainly she can’t be much, coming from stock like that and brought up in the wilderness.”
“Stock like what, Maxwell?”
“Why, really, Mother, you know yourself her mother was —”
“What was her mother, Maxwell? Did you ever take the trouble to find out?”
Rainbow Cottage Page 16