CAUGHT
The evening had closed in heavy rain, and towards morning a gusty wind
arose, buffeting the walls of Corranmore and making wild noises in the
ruin.
Marjorie awoke and sat up in bed. A moment's hearkening convinced her
that what the islanders most dreaded had become reality; a westerly
gale had arisen while Neil was still in the caves.
She sprang to the window; and the grey light showed her an angry sea,
with the white horses leaping and hurrying towards the Corrachin
headland.
The tide was rising, and was being driven eastward with terrific force
by the gale.
Marjorie ran to her brother's room; but a glance showed her an empty
bed.
'No time to lose,' said Marjorie to herself; 'perhaps he has gone to
warn Neil, and perhaps he hasn't; in any case I'd better go too.'
She hurried on some clothing and ran out of doors. The wind had swept
the clouds towards the east, and an angry dawn was breaking above the
hills. Marjorie sped over the drenched grass and heather, the wind was
lifting her nearly off her feet, and blowing her frock in front of her
like a sail. There were more than three miles of rugged country
between Corranmore and the headland. It was a race between herself and
the tide; and the tide seemed to be gaining.
Marjorie ran on and on. Neither Hamish nor any other living creature
was in sight. The sheep had left the moors and the gulls were taking
refuge inland.
At last the headland came in view. A glance showed Marjorie that the
waves had not yet reached high-water mark. Mechanically she chose the
road by the shore.
Now the wind was partly against her, and at times threatened to pin her
against the cliff; but Marjorie struggled forward. Soon the rocks were
frowning above her head, while the breakers were coming closer, rising
in solid walls which thundered as they fell. Showers of spray were
flung shoreward; and looking up at the wet glistening cliffs Marjorie
wondered whether foothold would be possible upon them, and what her
feelings would be were she to find herself caged between the cliffs and
the breakers.
Yet she did not feel frightened, only excited.
At the caves she had only time to make a dash before a huge breaker
fell; and some of the water swirled after her into the opening.
'Neil!' she cried; 'Neil!'
Neil was lying watching the flood quite calmly, as though it did not
concern him in the least.
Catching sight of Marjorie he looked up in amazement; then sprang to
his feet.
'Is Hamish here?' shouted Marjorie.
Her voice was drowned in the thunder of waves and wind.
Neil led her to a small chamber in the rocks, lighted from above, and
where the tumult was softened into a dull roar; and she repeated her
question.
'No, Miss Marjorie, I hef not seen him,' answered Neil. Their voices
sounded strangely muffled, the force of the breakers making the walls
of the little cavern tremble.
'Then, Neil, you must leave this at once; the caves will be flooded in
another minute, and I've come all this way to warn you.'
'Did you, Miss Marjorie? Did you indeed? You came to warn me. No,
indeed; I cannot let you stay here.'
'How are we to get out, Neil? I think the tide is at the foot of the
cliffs now?'
As she spoke a stream of water broke in and ran along the floor of
their little shelter.
'It iss too late to get out that way now, Miss Marjorie,' said Neil;
'and in any case it would be too slippery that the cliffs would be. I
will pe knowing an opening leading to the moor, where it's not
difficult to climb up. Come this way.'
He helped her along the passages. Soon they were in total darkness.
The flood was gaining upon them, and the noise rendered it impossible
to exchange a word. Sometimes the water hissed and gurgled at their
heels, and sometimes they plunged ankle-deep into pools.
They slipped and scrambled along, Marjorie clinging to her guide; and
presently a glimmer of light came from above.
'Here we are, Miss Marjorie,' said Neil. 'If you could be managing to
climb up here we would come out on the moor.'
The ascent was broken and dangerous, and was in some places only very
imperfectly lighted. Neil, with his sailor's training, swung himself
from point to point, sometimes drawing Marjorie up to a ledge, and
sometimes instructing her where to set her feet. At last the welcome
daylight burst upon them, and grasping the tufts of heather, they drew
themselves on to firm ground.
'At last,' said Marjorie, throwing herself down on the heather, and
blinking in the sun. 'Now you can go to the lighthouse, Neil.'
'Hullo,' said a voice; and Marjorie looked up to see the laird and Mr.
Graham, who had come all this way to watch the storm at the Corrachin
Caves, and were very much astonished at this sudden encounter.
'Run, Neil,' gasped Marjorie; but Neil drew himself together.
'It iss no use,' he said; 'they will be watching wherever I will go,
and I hev not a chance.'
Then to Mr. Stewart he said, 'I am not for trying to escape. I know I
shall be taken. I'd rather give myself up to you than to any one else.
If you wass not to be letting my mother know it iss grateful to you I
will be, sir.'
The laird looked greatly distressed.
'Neil, my lad,' he said, 'I have no warrant for arresting you. It's
none of my business. You may go away if you like; I shall not try to
prevent you.'
Neil shook his head.
'It iss no use, sir,' he said; 'I would rather yield of my own accord
than be taken, and I have no chance of escaping now. I had nothing to
do with the theft of the letters, but it iss no matter. My mother hass
not long to live, and she need neffer know if things go against me.
Keep it from her if you can.'
Marjorie stood by, white and trembling, and nearer to shedding tears
than she could have believed possible.
'You can come with me for the present, Neil,' said the laird; 'we'll
see what can be done.'
A pony cart was chartered from the nearest farmhouse. Marjorie got in
with the others and a sorrowful party set out across the moors.
When they reached Ardnavoir, the ill news seemed to have preceded them,
for Reggie looked stormily from an upper window and then came into the
hall where Allan and the Grahams were already waiting, and Mrs. Stewart
came downstairs accompanied by Tricksy, whose eyes were very big and
dark with dismay.
Neil dropped into the chair that was offered him, and leant his head on
his hand, while the others gathered silently around him. Allan and
Reggie were nearest, one on either side, and Reggie put his hand
protectingly on his friend's shoulder. In the background, Mr. Stewart
fidgeted with the things that had been carried in from the pony cart,
and Tricksy was silently shedding tears, poor little girl, leaning
against her mother.
The only one who could think of anything to do was Laddie, who came in,
planted himself in front of Neil, and endeavoured to express his
sympathy by slipping his nose under the lad's disengaged hand. Almost
without knowing that he was doing it, Neil put out his hand and
caressed the dog's smooth head, and the two remained thus in a silent
understanding.
Every one was feeling very miserable when there came a sound of wheels;
a gig drew up at the door, and several persons sprang down and burst
into the hall.