THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE.
The six weeks passed only too rapidly, but Dot and I were equally
delighted when Miss Ruth petitioned for a longer extension of absence,
to which dear mother returned a willing consent.
A little note was enclosed for me in Miss Ruth's letter.
"Make your mind quite easy, my dear child," she wrote, "we are getting
on very well, and really Jack is improving, and does all sorts of
little things to help me; she keeps her room tidier, and I have not had
to find fault with her for a week.
"We do not see much of Carrie; she comes home looking very pale and
fagged; your uncle grumbles sometimes, but I tell him words are wasted,
the Smedley influence is stronger than ever.
"But you need not think I am dull, though I do miss my bright, cheery
Esther, and my darling Frankie. Jack and I have nice walks, and Uncle
Geoffrey takes me sometimes on his rounds, and two or three times Mr.
Lucas has sent the carriage to take us into the country; he says the
horses need exercise, now his sister is away, but I know it is all his
kindness and thought for us. I will willingly spare you a little
longer, and am only thankful that the darling boy is deriving so much
benefit from the sea air."
Dear, unselfish mother, always thinking first of her children's
interest, and never of her own wishes; and yet I could read between the
lines, and knew how she missed us, especially Dot, who was her constant
companion.
But it was really the truth that the sea air was doing Dot good. He
complained less of his back, and went faster and faster on his little
crutches; the cruel abscesses had not tried him for months, and now it
seemed to me that the thin cheeks were rounding out a little. He looked
so sunburned and rosy, that I wished mother could have seen him. It was
only the color of a faintly-tinged rose, but all the same it was
wonderful for Dot. We had had lovely weather for our holiday; but at
the beginning of September came a change. About a week after mother's
letter had arrived, heavy storms of wind and rain raged round the coast.
Miss Ruth and Dot were weather-bound, neither of them had strength to
brave the boisterous wind; but Flurry and I would tie down our hats
with our veils and run down the parade for a blow. It used to be quite
empty and deserted; only in the distance we could see the shiny hat of
the Preventive man, as he walked up and down with his telescope.
I used to hold Flurry tightly by the hand, for I feared she would be
blown off her feet. Sometimes we were nearly drenched and blinded with
the salt spray.
The sea looked so gray and sullen, with white curling waves leaping up
against the sea wall; heaps of froth lay on the parade, and even on the
green enclosure in the front of the houses. People said it was the
highest tide they had known for years.
Once I was afraid to take Flurry out, and ran down to the beach alone.
I had to plant my feet firmly in the shingles, for I could hardly stand
against the wind. What a wild, magnificent scene it was, a study in
browns and grays, a strange colorless blending of faint tints and
uncertain shading.
As the waves receded there was a dark margin of heaped-up seaweed along
the beach, the tide swept in masses of tangled things, the surge broke
along the shore with a voice like thunder, great foamy waves leaped up
in curling splendor and then broke to pieces in the gray abyss. The sky
was as gray as the sea; not a living thing was in sight except a lonely
seagull. I could see the gleam of the firelight through one of the
windows of the cottage. It looked so warm and snug. The beach was high
and dry round me, but a little beyond the Brambles the tide flowed up
to the low cliffs. Most people would have shivered in such a scene of
desolation, for the seagull and I had it all to ourselves, but the
tumult of the wind and waves only excited me. I felt wild with spirits,
and could have shouted in the exuberance of my enjoyment.
I could have danced in my glee, as the foamy snowflakes fell round me,
and my face grew stiff and wet with the briny air. The white manes of
the sea-horses arched themselves as they swept to their destruction.
How the wind whistled and raved, like a hunted thing! "They that go
down to the sea in ships, and do their business in the deep waters,"
those words seemed to flash to me across the wild tumult, and I thought
of all the wonders seen by the mariners of old.
"Oh, Esther, how can you be so adventurous?" exclaimed Miss Ruth, as I
thrust a laughing face and wet waterproof into the room; she and the
children were sitting round the fire.
"Oh, it was delicious," I returned. "It intoxicated me like new wine;
you cannot imagine the mighty duet of the sea and wind, the rolling
sullen bass, and the shrill crescendo."
"It must have been horrible," she replied, with a little shiver. The
wild tempestuous weather depressed her; the loud discordance of the
jarring elements seemed to fret the quiet of her spirit.
"You are quite right," she said to me as we sat alone that evening,
"this sort of weather disturbs my tranquillity; it makes me restless
and agitates my nerves. Last night I could not sleep; images of terror
blended with my waking thoughts. I seemed to see great ships driving
before the wind, and to hear the roaring of breakers and crashing of
timbers against cruel rocks; and when I closed my eyes, it was only to
see the whitened bones of mariners lying fathoms deep among green
tangled seaweed."
"Dear Miss Ruth, no wonder you look pale and depressed after such a
night. Would you like me to sleep with you? the wind seems to act on me
like a lullaby. I felt cradled in comfort last night."
"You are so strong," she said, with a little sadness in her voice. "You
have no nerves, no diseased sensibilities; you do not dread the evils
you cannot see, the universe does not picture itself to you in dim
terrors."
"Why, no," I returned, wonderingly, for such suggestions were new to me.
"Sleep your happy sleep, my dear," she said, tenderly, "and thank God
for your perfect health, Esther. I dozed a little myself toward
morning, before the day woke in its rage, and then I had a horrible
sort of dream, a half-waking scare, bred of my night-terrors.
"I thought I was tossing like a dead leaf in the gale; the wind had
broken bounds, and carried me away bodily. Now I was lying along the
margin of waves, and now swept in wide circles in the air.
"The noise was maddening. The air seemed full of shrieks and cries, as
though the universe were lost and bewailing itself, 'Lamentation and
mourning and woe,' seemed written upon the lurid sky and sea. I thought
of those poor lovers in Dante's 'Inferno,' blown like spectral leaves
before the infernal winds of hell; but I was alone in this tumultuous
torrent.
"I felt myself sinking at last into the dim, choking surge--it was
horribly real, Esther--and then some one caught me by the hair and drew
me out, and the words came to me, 'for so He bringeth them to the haven
where they would be.'"
"How strange!" I exclaimed in an awed tone, for Miss Ruth's face was
pale, and there was a touch of sadness in her voice.
"It was almost a vision of one's life," she returned, slowly; "we drift
hither and thither, blown by many a gust of passion over many an unseen
danger. If we be not engulfed, it is because the Angel of His
Providence watches over us; 'drawn out of many waters,' how many a life
history can testify of that!"
"We have our smooth days as well," I returned, cheerfully, "when the
sun shines, and there are only ripples on the waters."
"That is in youth," she replied; "later on the storms must come, and
the wise mariner will prepare himself to meet them. We must not always
be expecting fair weather. Do you not remember the lines of my favorite
hymn:
"'And oh, the joy upon that shore
To tell our shipwrecked voyage o'er.'
"Really, I think one of the great pleasures in heaven will be telling
the perils we have been through, and how He has brought us home at
last."
Miss Ruth would not let me sleep with her that night; but to my great
relief, for her pale, weary looks made me anxious, the wind abated, and
toward morning only the breaking surge was heard dashing along the
shore.
"I have rested better," were the first words when we met, "but that one
night's hurly-burly has wrecked me a little," which meant that she was
only fit for bed.
But she would not hear of giving up entirely, so I drew her couch to
the fire, and wrapped her up in shawls and left Dot to keep her
company, while Flurry and I went out. In spite of the lull the sea was
still very unquiet, and the receding tide gave us plenty of amusement,
and we spent a very happy morning. In the afternoon, Miss Ruth had some
errands for me to do in the town--wools to match, and books to change
at the library, after which I had to replenish our exhausted store of
note-paper.
It was Saturday, and we had decided the pony carriage must go alone to
the station to meet Mr. Lucas. He generally arrived a little before
six, but once he had surprised us walking in with his portmanteau, just
as we were starting for our afternoon's walk. Flurry begged hard to
accompany me; but Miss Ruth thought she had done enough, and wished her
to play with Dot in the dining-room at some nice game. I was rather
sorry at Miss Ruth's decision, for I saw Flurry was in one of her
perverse moods. They occurred very seldom, but gave me a great deal of
trouble to overcome them. She could be very naughty on such occasions,
and do a vast amount of mischief. Flurry's break-outs, as I called
them, were extremely tiresome, as Nurse Gill and I knew well. I was
very disinclined to trust Dot in her company, for her naughtiness would
infect him, and even the best of children can be troublesome sometimes.
Flurry looked very sulky when I asked her what game they meant to play,
and I augured badly from her toss of the head and brief replies. She
was hugging Flossie on the window-seat, and would not give me her
attention, so I turned to Dot and begged him to be a good boy and not
to disturb Miss Ruth, but take care of Flurry.
Dot answered amiably, and I ran off, determining to be back as soon as
I could. I wished Nurse Gill could sit with the children and keep them
in good temper, but she was at work in Miss Ruth's room and could not
come down.
My errands took longer than I thought; wool matching is always a
troublesome business, and the books Miss Ruth wanted were out, and I
had to select others; it was more than an hour before I set off for
home, and then I met Nurse Gill, who wanted some brass rings for the
curtains she was making, and had forgotten to ask me to get them.
The wind was rising again, and I was surprised to find Miss Ruth in the
porch with her handkerchief tied over her head, and Dorcas running down
the garden path.
"Have you seen them, Miss Esther?" asked the girl, anxiously.
"Who--what do you mean?" I inquired.
"Miss Florence and Master Dot; we have been looking for them
everywhere. I was taking a cup of tea just now to mistress, and she
asked me to go into the dining-room, as the children seemed so quiet;
but they were not there, and Betty and I have searched the house and
garden over, and we cannot find them."
"Oh, Esther, come here," exclaimed Miss Ruth in agony, for I was
standing still straining my eyes over the beach to catch a glimpse of
them. "I am afraid I was very wrong to send you out, and Giles will be
here presently, and Dorcas says Dot's hat is missing from the peg, and
Flurry's sealskin hat and jacket."
Dot out in this wind! I stood aghast at the idea, but the next moment I
took Miss Ruth's cold little hands in mine.
"You must not stand here," I said firmly; "come into the drawing-room,
I will talk to you there, and you too, Dorcas. No, I have not seen
them," as Miss Ruth yielded to my strong grasp, and stood shivering and
miserable on the rug. "I came past the Preventive station and down the
parade, and they were not there."
"Could they have followed Nurse Gill?" struck in Dorcas.
"No, for I met her just now, and she was alone. I hardly think they
would go to the town. Dot never cared for the shops, or Flurry either.
Perhaps they might be hidden in one of the bathing machines. Oh, Miss
Ruth," with an access of anxiety in my voice, "Dot is so weakly, and
this strong wind will blow him down; it must be all Flurry's
naughtiness, for nothing would have induced him to go out unless she
made him."
"What are we to do?" she replied, helplessly. This sudden terror had
taken away her strength, she looked so ill. I thought a moment before I
replied.
"Let Dorcas go down to the bathing machines," I said, at last, "and she
can speak to the Preventive man; and if you do not mind being alone,
Miss Ruth, and you must promise to lie down and keep quiet, Betty might
go into the town and find Nurse Gill. I will just run along the beach
and take a look all around."
"Yes, do," she returned. "Oh, my naughty, naughty Flurry!" almost
wringing her hands.
"Don't frighten yourself beforehand," I said, kissing her and speaking
cheerfully, though I did feel in a state about Dot; and what would
mother and Mr. Lucas say? "I daresay Dorcas or I will bring them back
in a few minutes, and then won't they get a scolding!"
"Oh, no; I shall be too happy to scold them," she returned, with a
faint smile, for my words put fresh heart in her, and she would follow
us into the porch and stand looking after us.
I scrambled over the shingles as fast as I could, for the wind was
rising, and I was afraid it would soon grow dusk. Nothing was in sight;
the whole shore was empty and desolate--fearfully desolate, even to my
eyes.
It was no use going on, I thought; they must be hiding in the bathing
machines after all. And I was actually turning round when something
gray on the beach attracted my attention, and I picked it up. To my
horror, it was one of Dot's woolen mittens that mother had knitted for
him, and which he had worn that very afternoon.
I was on their track, after all. I was sure of it now; but when I
lifted my eyes and saw the dreary expanse of shore before me, a blank
feeling of terror took possession of me. They were not in sight!
Nothing but cloudy skies and low chalky cliffs, and the surge breaking
on the shingles.
All at once a thought that was almost an inspiration flashed across
me--the smugglers' cave! Flurry was always talking about it; it had
taken a strong hold of her imagination, and both she and Dot had been
wild to explore it, only Miss Ruth had never encouraged the idea. She
thought caves were damp, dreary places, and not fit for delicate
children. Flurry must have tempted Dot to accompany her on this
exploring expedition. I was as convinced of the fact as though I had
overheard the children's conversation. She would coax and cajole him
until his conscience was undermined. How could he have dragged himself
so far on his crutches? for the cave was nearly half a mile away from
where I stood, and the wind was rising fearfully. And now an icy chill
of terror came over me from head to foot--the tide was advancing! It
had already covered the narrow strip of sand; in less than an hour it
would reach the cliffs, for the shore curved a little beyond the
cottage, and with the exception of the beach before the Brambles, the
sea covered the whole of the shingles.
I shall never, to my dying day, forget that moment's agony when my mind
first grasped the truth of the deadly peril those thoughtless babes had
incurred. Without instant help, those little children must be drowned,
for the water flowed into the cave. Even now it might be too late. All
these thoughts whirled through my brain in an instant.
Only for a moment I paused and cast one despairing glance round me. The
cottage was out of sight. Nurse Gill, and Dorcas, and Betty were
scouring the town; no time to run back for help, no hope of making
one's voice heard with the wind whistling round me.
"Oh, my God! help me to save these children!" I cried, with a sob that
almost choked me. And then I dashed like a mad thing toward the shore.
My despair gave me courage, but my progress was difficult and slow. It
was impossible to keep up that pace over the heavy shingles with the
wind tearing round me and taking away my breath.
Several times I had to stand and collect my energies, and each time I
paused I called the children's names loudly. But, alas! the wind and
the sea swallowed up the sound.
How fast the tide seemed coming up! The booming of the breakers sounded
close behind me. I dared not look--I dared not think. I fought and
buffeted the wind, and folded my cloak round me.
"Out of the depth I have cried unto Thee." Those were the words I said
over and over to myself.
I had reached the cave at last, and leaned gasping and nearly faint
with terror before I began searching in its dim recesses.
Great masses of slimy seaweed lay heaped up at the entrance; a faint
damp odor pervaded it. The sudden roar of wind and sea echoed in dull
hollowness, but here at least my voice could be heard.
"Flurry-Dot!" I screamed. I could hear my own wild shriek dying away
through the cave. To my delight, two little voices answered:
"Here we are Esther! Come along, we are having such a game! Flurry is
the smuggler, and I am the Preventive man, and Flossy is my dog,
and--oh, dear! what is the matter?" And Dot, who had hobbled out of a
snug, dry little corner near the entrance, looked up with frightened
eyes as I caught him and Flurry in my arms. I suppose my face betrayed
my fears, for I could not at that moment gasp out another word.