"Vane--we can't do it. Let's swim ashore."
Vane turned his eyes slowly toward him, as if he hardly comprehended his
words.
"What can I do?" panted Gilmore, who, on his side, was gradually growing
more rapid and laboured in the strokes he made; but Vane made no sign,
and the three floated down stream, each minute more helpless; and it was
now rapidly becoming a certainty that, if Gilmore wished to save his
life, he must quit his hold of Distin, and strive his best to reach the
bank.
"It seems so cowardly," he groaned; and he looked wildly round for help,
but there was none. Then there seemed to be just one chance: the shore
looked to be just in front of them, for the river turned here sharply
round, forming a loop, and there was a possibility of their being swept
right on to the bank.
Vain hope! The stream swept round to their right, bearing them toward
the other shore, against which it impinged, and then shot off with
increased speed away for the other side; and, though they were carried
almost within grasping distance of a tree whose boughs hung down to kiss
the swift waters, the nearest was just beyond Gilmore's reach, as he
raised his hand, which fell back with a splash, as they were borne right
out, now toward the middle once more, and round the bend.
"I can't help it. Must let go," thought Gilmore. "I'm done." Then
aloud:
"Vane, old chap! let go. Let's swim ashore;" and then he shuddered, for
Vane's eyes had a dull, half-glazed stare, and his lips, nostrils,--the
greater part of his face, sank below the stream. "Oh, help!" groaned
Gilmore; "he has gone:" and, loosing his hold of Distin, he made a
snatch at Vane, who was slowly sinking, the current turning him face
downward, and rolling him slowly over.
But Gilmore made a desperate snatch, and caught him by the sleeve as
Vane rose again with his head thrown back and one arm rising above the
water, clutching frantically at vacancy.
The weight of that arm was sufficient to send him beneath the surface
again, and Gilmore's desperate struggle to keep him afloat resulted in
his going under in turn, losing his presence of mind, and beginning to
struggle wildly as he, too, strove to catch at something to keep himself
up.
Another few moments and all would have been over, but the clutch did not
prove to be at vacancy. Far from it. A hand was thrust into his, and
as he was drawn up, a familiar voice shouted in his singing ears, where
the water had been thundering the moment before:
"Catch hold of the side," was shouted; and his fingers involuntarily
closed on the gunwale of the boat, while Macey reached out and seized
Vane by the collar, drew him to the boat, or the boat to him, and guided
the drowning lad's cramped hand to the gunwale too.
"Now!" he shouted; "can you hold on?"
There was no answer from either, and Macey hesitated for a few moments,
but, seeing how desperate a grip both now had, he seized one of the
recovered sculls, thrust it out over the rowlock, and pulled and paddled
first at the side, then over the stern till, by help of the current, he
guided the boat with its clinging freight into shallow water where he
leaped overboard, seized Gilmore, and dragged him right up the sandy
shallow to where his head lay clear. He then went back and seized Vane
in turn, after literally unhooking his cramped fingers from the side,
and dragged him through the shallow water a few yards, before he
realised that his fellow-pupil's other hand was fixed, with what for the
moment looked to be a death-grip, in Distin's clothes.
This task was more difficult, but by the time he had dragged Vane
alongside of Gilmore, the latter was slowly struggling up to his feet;
and in a confused, staggering way he lent a hand to get Vane's head well
clear of the water on to the warm dry pebbles, and then between them
they dragged Distin right out beyond the pebbles on to the grass.
"One moment," cried Macey, and he dashed into the water again just in
time to catch hold of the boat, which was slowly floating away. Then
wading back he got hold of the chain, and twisted it round a little
blackthorn bush on the bank.
"I'm better now," gasped Gilmore. And then, "Oh, Aleck, Aleck, they're
both dead!"
"They aren't," shouted Macey fiercely. "Look! Old Weathercock's moving
his eyes, but I'm afraid of poor old Colonist. Here, hi, Vane, old man!
You ain't dead, are you? Catch hold, Gil, like this, under his arm.
Now, together off!"
They seized Vane, and, raising his head and shoulders, dragged him up on
to the grass, near where Distin lay, apparently past all help, and a
groan escaped from Gilmore's lips, as, rapidly regaining his strength
and energy, he dropped on his knees beside him.
"It's all right," shouted Macey, excitedly, when a whisper would have
done. "Weathercock's beginning to revive again. Hooray, old Vane!
You'll do. We must go to Distie."
Vane could not speak, but he made a sign, which they interpreted to
mean, go; and the next moment they were on their knees by Distin's side,
trying what seemed to be the hopeless task of reviving him. For the
lad's face looked ghastly in the extreme; and, though Macey felt his
breast and throat, there was not the faintest pulsation perceptible.
But they lost no time; and Gilmore, who was minute by minute growing
stronger, joined in his companion's efforts at resuscitation from a few
rather hazy recollections of a paper he had once read respecting the
efforts to be made with the apparently drowned.
Everything was against them. They had no hot flannels or water-bottles
to apply to the subject's feet, no blankets in which to wrap him,
nothing but sunshine, as Macey began. After doubling up a couple of wet
jackets into a cushion and putting them under Distin's back, he placed
himself kneeling behind the poor fellow's head, seized his arms, pressed
them hard against his sides, and then drew them out to their full
stretch, so as to try and produce respiration by alternately compressing
and expanding the chest.
He kept on till he grew so tired that his motions grew slow; and then he
gave place to Gilmore, who carried on the process eagerly, while Macey
went to see how Vane progressed, finding him able to speak now in a
whisper.
"How is Distin?" he whispered.
"Bad," said Macey, laconically.
"Not dead!" cried Vane, frantically.
"Not yet," was the reply; "but I wouldn't give much for the poor
fellow's chance. Oh, Vane, old chap, do come round, and help. You are
so clever, and know such lots of things. I shall never be happy again
if he dies."
For answer to this appeal Vane sat up, but turned so giddy that he lay
back again.
"I'll come and try as soon as I can," he said, feebly. "All the
strength has gone out of me."
"Let me help you," cried Macey; and he drew Vane into a sitting
position, but had to leave him and relieve Gilmore, whose arms were
failing fast.
Macey took his place, and began with renewed vigour at what seemed to be
a perfectly hopeless task, while Gilmore went to Vane.
"It's no good," muttered Macey, whose heart was full of remorse; and a
terrible feeling of despair came over him. "It's of no use, but I will
try and try till I drop. Oh, if I could only bring him to, I'd never
say an unkind word to him again!"
He threw himself into his task, working Distin's thin arms up and down
with all his might, listening intently the while for some faint
suggestion of breathing, but all in vain; the arms he held were cold and
dank, and the face upon which he looked down, seeing it in reverse, was
horribly ghastly and grotesque.
"I don't like him," continued Macey, to himself, as he toiled away; "I
never did like him, and I never shall, but I think I'd sooner it was me
lying here than him. And me the cause of it all."
"Poor old Distie!" he went on. "I suppose he couldn't help his temper.
It was his nature, and he came from a foreign country. How could I be
such a fool? Nearly drowned us all."
He bent over Distin at every pressure of the arms, close to the poor
fellow's side; and, as he hung over him, the great tears gathered in his
eyes, and, in a choking voice, he muttered aloud:--
"I didn't mean it, old chap. It was only to give you a ducking for
being so disagreeable; indeed, indeed, I wish it had been me."
"Oh, I say," cried a voice at his ear; "don't take on like that, old
fellow. We'll bring him round yet. Vane's getting all right fast."
"I can't help it, Gil, old chap," said Macey, in a husky whisper; "it is
so horrible to see him like this."
"But I tell you we shall bring him round. You're tired, and out of
heart. Let me take another turn."
"No, I'm not tired yet," said Macey, recovering himself, and speaking
more steadily. "I'll keep on. You feel his heart again."
He accommodated his movements to his companion's, and Gilmore kept his
hand on Distin's breast, but he withdrew it again without a word; and,
as Macey saw the despair and the hopeless look on the lad's face, his
own heart sank lower, and his arms felt as if all the power had gone.
But, with a jerk, he recommenced working Distin's arms up and down with
the regular pumping motion, till he could do no more, and he again made
way for Gilmore.
He was turning to Vane, but felt a touch on his shoulder, and, looking
round, it was to gaze in the lad's grave face.
"How is he?"
"Oh, bad as bad can be. Do, pray, try and save him, Vane. We mustn't
let him die."
Vane breathed hard, and went to Distin's side, kneeling down to feel his
throat, and looking more serious as he rose.
"Let me try now," he whispered, but Gilmore shook his head.
"You're too weak," he said. "Wait a bit."
Vane waited, and at last they were glad to let him take his turn, when
the toil drove off the terrible chill from which he was suffering, and
he worked at the artificial respiration plan, growing stronger every
minute.
Again he resumed the task in his turn, and then again, after quite an
hour of incessant effort had been persisted in; while now the feeling
was becoming stronger in all their breasts that they had tried in vain,
for there was no more chance.
"If we could have had him in a bed, we might have done some good," said
Gilmore, sadly. "Vane, old fellow, I'm afraid you must give it up."
But, instead of ceasing his efforts, the lad tried the harder, and, in a
tone of intense excitement, he panted:--
"Look!"
"At what?" cried Macey, eagerly; and then, going down on his knees, he
thrust in his hand beneath the lad's shirt.
"Yes! you can feel it. Keep on, Vane, keep on."
"What!" shouted Gilmore; and then he gave a joyful cry, for there was a
trembling about one of Distin's eyelids, and a quarter of an hour later
they saw him open his eyes, and begin to stare wonderingly round.
It was only for a few moments, and then they closed again, as if the
spark of the fire of life that had been trembling had died out because
there had been a slight cessation of the efforts to produce it.
But there was no farther relaxation. All, in turn, worked hard, full of
excitement at the fruit borne by their efforts; and, at last, while Vane
was striving his best, the patient's eyes were opened, gazed round once
more, blankly and wonderingly, till they rested upon Vane's face, when
memory reasserted itself, and an unpleasant frown darkened the Creole's
countenance.
"Don't," he cried, angrily, in a curiously weak, harsh voice, quite
different from his usual tones; and he dragged himself away, and tried
to rise, but sank back.
Vane quitted his place, and made way for Macey, whose turn it would have
been to continue their efforts, but Distin gave himself a jerk, and
fixed his eyes on Gilmore, who raised him by passing one hand beneath
his shoulders.
"Better?"
"Better? What do you mean? I haven't--Ah! How was it the boat upset?"
There was no reply, and Distin spoke again, in a singularly irritable
way.
"I said, how was it the boat upset? Did someone run into us?"
"You rowed right upon one of the old posts," replied Gilmore, and Distin
gazed at him fixedly, while Macey shrank back a little, and then looked
furtively from Vane to Gilmore, and back again at Distin, who fixed his
eyes upon him searchingly, but did not speak for some time.
"Here," he said at last; "give me your hand. I can't sit here in these
wet things."
"Can you stand?" said Gilmore, eagerly.
"Of course I can stand. Why shouldn't I? Because I'm wet? Oh!"
He clapped his hands to his head, and bowed down a little.
"Are you in pain?" asked Gilmore, with solicitude.
"Of course I am," snarled Distin; "any fool could see that. I must have
struck my head, I suppose."
"He doesn't suspect me," thought Macey, with a long-drawn breath full of
relief.
"Here, I'll try again," continued Distin. "Where's the boat? I want to
get back, and change these wet things. Oh! my head aches as if it would
split!"
Gilmore offered his hand again, and, forgetting everything in his desire
to help one in pain and distress, Vane ranged up on the other side, and
was about to take Distin's arm.
But the lad shrank from him fiercely.
"I can manage," he said. "I don't want to be hauled and pulled about
like a child. Now, Gil, steady. Let's get into the boat. I want to
lie down in the stern."
"Wait a minute or two; she's half full of water," cried Macey, who was
longing to do something helpful. "Come on, Vane."
The latter went to his help, and they drew the boat closer in.
"Oh, I say," whispered the lad, "isn't old Dis in a temper?"
"Yes; I've heard that people who have been nearly drowned are terribly
irritable when they come to," replied Vane, in the same tone. "Never
mind, we've saved his life."
"You did," said Macey.
"Nonsense; we all did."
"No; we two didn't dive down in the black pool, and fetch him up. Oh, I
say, Vane, what a day! If this is coming out for pleasure I'll stop at
home next time. Now then, together."
They pulled together, and by degrees lightened the boat of more and more
water, till they were able to get it quite ashore, and drain out the
last drops over the side. Then launching again, and replacing the oars,
Macey gave his head a rub.
"We shall have to buy the miller a new boat-hook," he said. "I suppose
the iron on the end of the pole was so heavy that it took the thing
down. I never saw it again. Pretty hunt I had for the sculls. I got
one, but was ever so long before I could find the other."
"You only just got to us in time," said Vane, with a sigh; and he looked
painfully in his companion's eyes.
"Oh, I say, don't look at a fellow like that," said Macey. "I am
sorry--I am, indeed."
Vane was silent, but still looked at his fellow-pupil steadily.
"Don't ever split upon me, old chap," continued Macey; "and I'll own it
all to you. I thought it would only be a bit of a lark to give him a
ducking, for he had been--and no mistake--too disagreeable for us to put
up with it any longer."
"Then you did keep on telling him which hand to pull and steered him on
to the pile?"
Macey was silent.
"If you did, own to it like a man, Aleck."
"Yes, I will--to you, Vane. I did, for I thought it would be such a
game to see him overboard, and I felt it would only be a wetting for us.
I never thought of it turning out as it did."
He ceased speaking, and Vane stood gazing straight before him for a few
moments.
"No," he said, at last, "you couldn't have thought that it would turn
out like it did."
"No, 'pon my word, I didn't."
"And we might have had to go back and tell Syme that one of his pupils
was dead. Oh, Aleck, if it had been so!"
"Yes, but don't you turn upon me, Vane. I didn't mean it. You know I
didn't mean it; and I'll never try such a trick as that again."
"Ready there?" cried Gilmore.
"Yes; all right," shouted Macey. Then, in a whisper, "Don't tell
Distie. He'd never forgive me. Here they come."
For, sallow, and with his teeth chattering, Distin came toward them,
leaning on Gilmore's arm; but, as he reached the boat, he drew himself
up, and looked fixedly in Vane's face.
"You needn't try to plot any more," he said, "for I shall be aware of
you next time."
"Plot?" stammered Vane, who was completely taken aback. "I don't know
what you mean."
"Of course not," said Distin, bitterly. "You are such a genius--so
clever. You wouldn't set that idiot Macey to tell me which hand to
pull, so as to overset the boat. But I'll be even with you yet."
"I wouldn't, I swear," cried Vane, sharply.
"Oh, no; not likely. You are too straightforward and generous. But I'm
not blind: I can see; and if punishment can follow for your cowardly
trick, you shall have it. Come, Gil, you and I will row back together.
It will warm us, and we can be on our guard against treachery this
time."
He stepped into the boat, staggered, and would have fallen overboard,
had not Vane caught his arm; but, as soon as he had recovered his
balance, he shook himself free resentfully and seated himself on the
forward thwart.
"Jump in," said Gilmore, in a low voice.
"Yes, jump in, Mr Vane Lee, and be good enough to go right to the
stern. You did not succeed in drowning me this time; and, mind this, if
you try any tricks on our way back, I'll give you the oar across the
head. You cowardly, treacherous bit of scum!"
"No, he isn't," said Macey, boldly, "and you're all out of it, clever as
you are. It was not Vane's doing, the running on the pile, but mine. I
did it to take some of the conceit and bullying out of you, so you may
say and do what you like."
"Oh, yes, I knew you did it," sneered Distin; "but there are not brains
enough in your head to originate such a dastardly trick. That was Vane
Lee's doing, and he'll hear of it another time, as sure as my name's
Distin."
"I tell you it was my own doing entirely," cried Macey, flushing up;
"and I'll tell you something else. I'm glad I did it--so there. For
you deserved it, and you deserve another for being such a cad."
"What do you mean?" cried Distin, threateningly. "What I say, you
ungrateful, un-English humbug. You were drowning; you couldn't be
found, and you wouldn't have been here now, if it hadn't been for old
Weathercock diving down and fetching you up, and then, half-dead
himself, working so hard to help save your life."
"I don't believe it," snarled Distin.
"Don't," said Macey, as he thrust the boat from the side, throwing
himself forward at the same time, so that he rode out on his chest, and
then wriggled in, to seat himself close by Vane, while Gilmore and
Distin began to row hard, so as to get some warmth into their chilled
bodies.
They went on in silence for some time, and then Macey leaped up.
"Now, Vane," he cried; "it's our turn."
"Sit down," roared Distin.
"Don't, Aleck," said Vane, firmly. "You are quite right. We want to
warm ourselves too. Come, Gil, and take my place."
"Sit down!" roared Distin again; but Gilmore exchanged places with Vane,
and Macey stepped forward, and took hold of Distin's oar.
"Now then, give it up," he said; and, utterly cowed by the firmness of
the two lads, Distin stepped over the thwart by Vane, and went and
seated himself by Gilmore.
"Ready?" cried Macey.
"Yes."
"You pull as hard as you can, and let's send these shivers out of us.
You call out, Gil, and steer us, for we don't want to have to look
round."
They bent their backs to their work, and sent the boat flying through
the water, Gilmore shouting a hint from time to time, with the result
that they came in sight of the mill much sooner than they had expected,
and Gilmore looked out anxiously, hoping to get the boat moored unseen,
so that they could hurry off and get to the rectory by the fields, so
that their drenched condition should not be noticed.
But, just as they approached the big willows, a window in the mill was
thrown open, the loud clacking and the roar of the machinery reached
their ears, and there was the great, full face of the miller grinning
down at them.
"Why, hallo!" he shouted; "what game's this? Been fishing?"
"No," said Vane, quietly; "we--"