An Awkward Fix
Mr. Selincourt was not the man to let the grass grow under his feet
when he had any sort of project in hand. He was so rich, too, that
his schemes never had to suffer delay from want of means to carry
them through. Directly he had made up his mind that he meant to
have a fish-curing establishment at Seal Cove, he had the plans
drawn for the buildings, work which fell to Jervis and Mary; then,
when these were ready, Astor M'Kree was set to work, with as many
helpers as could handle a hammer or a saw with any degree of
dexterity.
Never had there been such a summer of work at Seal Cove; everyone
who could do anything was pressed into service. Some of the
Indians, tempted by wages, were set to work, and although they were
no good at carpentry, or things of that sort, they did very well at
cod-splitting, or, as it was termed, "flaking", and spreading the
fish to dry on the flakes, as the structures were called which had
been erected on a sunny headland, after the fashion of the
fish-flakes at St. John's, Newfoundland, whence the idea was taken.
Already Mr. Selincourt was in treaty for the purchase of land on
both sides of the river. He wanted to possess the river frontage
on each bank of the water, from the bay up to the first portage;
but the drawback to this was that 'Duke Radford owned nearly three
quarters of a mile of frontage close to the store, so it was not
likely that the owner of the fishing fleet would get all the ground
into his own hands.
Mary had a fancy for geology, and when her father had no need of
her help in forwarding his schemes she spent long days in tramping
about the woods and the shore, armed with a hammer and a specimen
bag, and accompanied by one or two of the big dogs from the store.
True to her resolve, she had lost no time in making friends with
the great, fierce creatures, which roamed as they pleased in
summer, as a sort of holiday compensation for the hard work they
had to do in winter, when stores had to be transported by sledges.
She had done her work so thoroughly that the dogs became, not
merely her friends, but her abject slaves, and were ready at any
time to swim the river at her call.
The coast of the bay to the northward was flat and swampy, but
southward from Seal Cove it stretched in bold headlands and
precipitous rocks for mile on mile, until the mouth of the next
river spread acres of swamp 'twixt land and sea. Beyond the
headland on which Mr. Selincourt had erected his fish-flakes there
extended miles of broken ground, with split rocks and riven cliffs
which might have been the result of volcanic upheaval, but were
probably only the product of the intense frost of centuries. This
was Mary's happy hunting ground, a place full of scientific
surprises, and full of dangers too. For the rocks were slippery,
the heights tremendous, and a fall in many places must have meant
certain death.
Jervis Ferrars had been in his boat one morning along the coast to
a certain bay or inlet much beloved of the black-headed gulls.
These birds were valuable either for their plucked feathers, or for
their skins with the feathers left on. They frequented the inlet
in their tens of thousands, and it had occurred to him that it
might be good business to secure a couple of thousand skins, and
get them dry for packing by the time the next boat arrived,
probably in the middle of August.
He had beached his boat, and spent an hour or more wandering round
the crags, and planning the campaign against the luckless gulls,
which dozed in sleepy content on the sunny slopes of the inlet.
Then, taking to his boat again, he pulled himself back towards Seal
Cove, maturing his plans on the way. He was passing a rocky
promontory just before reaching the fish-flakes, when he heard a
yelping noise, and, looking up, saw a big dog running to and fro on
the rocks in evident distress. But there were so many big dogs
running loose in the woods and the wilds at this time of the year,
and as they were mostly in distress over something or other, he
took very little notice of the creature, and, working steadily on,
arrived in due course at the fish shed.
Jervis was tired, having pulled many miles through a choppy sea
with the wind against him, and he was thinking that it would be
really pleasant to sit writing for an hour or two somewhere out of
the roaring of the wind. Entering his office, he took off his
jacket and sat down on the rough stool before the equally rough
desk where his clerical work was principally done.
But he had not entered two items in his book of takings when Mr.
Selincourt came in hastily, with a worried look on his face.
"Have you seen Mary in your travels?" he asked.
"No; I didn't even know that Miss Selincourt was at Seal Cove this
morning," Jervis answered, looking up from his writing.
"She came down a good two hours before I did; said she wanted to go
over the rocks to test some ironstone formation which she
discovered the other day. She promised to be back here to meet me
when I arrived, but that is three hours ago, and she has not come
yet."
Jervis sat looking at him in an abstracted fashion, as if trying to
settle some clue which threatened to escape him; then, with a
start, he asked: "Had she a dog with her?"
"Most likely; she never moves very far without one or two of those
great brutes from the store to keep her company, and a good thing
too. I always feel more comfortable about her then, than if she
were alone."
Jervis jumped up and began to pull on his jacket with nervous
haste. He was remembering the dog he had seen on the rocks an hour
or two ago, and the creature's evident distress, which probably
meant that Miss Selincourt was in trouble also.
"What is the matter?" demanded Mr. Selincourt.
"Nothing, I hope. But as I came home a while ago from the inlet I
noticed a dog on the rocks, a big creature that seemed in trouble.
I didn't think much of it then, but of course it must have been the
animal that was with Miss Selincourt, so I am going to see if she
is all right," Jervis answered.
"I will come with you," said Mr. Selincourt.
"Please, no; I can go faster alone. And if she is not really in
difficulties we might both miss her, and have a long, anxious hunt
for no purpose at all. If you will walk over beyond the
fish-flakes, and come to the rocks from that direction, you will
either meet her or meet me," Jervis said, then hurried off to his
boat, which was drawn up on the shore at a little distance from the
fish shed.
It must have been two miles away, perhaps three, that he had seen
the dog, and now he blamed himself because he had not taken more
notice of its trouble. The worst of it was, he was not quite sure
as to where he had seen the creature. The sky was overcast, and
the weather looked so threatening that, unless he could find Miss
Selincourt soon, and hurry her home, she would scarcely escape a
very bad wetting.
Resting on his oars, he sent out a mighty shout, then waited with
every sense on the alert. One minute passed--two--and when five
minutes had gone he shouted again, following this up with a whistle
so piercing that it fetched a distant echo from the rocks.
But was it an echo?
The sound had scarcely died away when it was repeated again. A
moment later Jervis heard it yet again, and knew for a certainty
that it was no echo, but someone whistling back to him.
The breeze had freshened to a gale that roared in his ears like
thunder, as he drew his boat high up beyond reach of the tide that
was running in strongly; and when the boat was safe he set out to
climb the rocks. Up, and up, a dizzy height he went, finding
foothold with difficulty, for what looked like solid rock had a
trick of crumbling when stepped upon, just as if it were rotten
mortar.
But he reached the top at last, and paused to look about him,
holding fast with both hands, for the force of the wind at this
height was so great that he feared lest he should be blown away.
On one side was the bay, with great waves, foam-crested, rolling
in, to break with a thunderous roar on the beach. Spread out on
the other hand was the wild, rocky waste, full of dangers now, for
in the deep valleys between great rock boulders the incoming tide
was rising and making deep pools where a little before had been dry
ground.
It was these pools that Jervis feared. If Mary had slipped into one
of these deep places she might easily be caught by the rising
flood, and drowned before help could reach her.
The mere thought turned him sick, and he whistled shrilly as before.
The answering whistle came so promptly, and sounded so close, that
he started in surprise, then shouted: "Where are you?"
"Here," replied a voice that sounded so close, so audibly that he
looked round in mystification. Then he saw a deep gulch yawning
below him, and caught the flutter of a handkerchief on the far
side. But how could he reach there? Down he plunged with reckless
haste, having little or no regard for his own safety--and, indeed,
he who hesitated here was lost, for at every step the rock crumbled
and slid under his weight.
"It will be queer work getting back!" he said to himself, then
pressed onward to reach the side of the gulch, where now he could
see Mary Selincourt crouched on a narrow ledge or shelf against a
perpendicular cliff, while the water was rising higher and higher,
creeping nearer and nearer to where she sat.
How could he rescue her from there? One hope he had, that her
shelf might be above high-water mark, in which case patient
endurance would be all that was needed until the tide ran out
again. A glance at the wall of cliff behind Mary proved this hope
to be futile, for the mark of the water showed above her head, and
if she were not rescued speedily, he could only stand by and see
her drown.
"Are you hurt?" he called out when he had scrambled low enough to
talk to her.
"I have twisted my foot rather badly," she said in an exhausted
tone, "and I seem to have been shouting and whistling for help for
so long. I had great difficulty to make the dog leave me and go
for help, but I think it understood at last, because it went off at
such a pace."
"Well, we must get you out of this as soon as possible, for the
tide is coming up fast. Do you mind a wetting!" he asked, creeping
down to the edge of the dividing water, and wondering whether he
could wade or if he must swim.
"Mind or not mind, I shall get one, I expect," she answered, with a
nervous laugh. "Be careful, Mr. Ferrars, there is a very deep
place just below this shelf, and the water showed there before
anywhere else; it seemed to ooze up from the bottom."
"I must swim for it, then, I suppose," he said, pulling off his
jacket and his boots; then, slipping into the water, he struck out
and crossed the strip of rising tide, which lay like a river along
the bottom of the gulch.
But when he reached the shelf it was above him, and the cliff was
too steep for climbing.
"You must roll off that shelf and drop into the water," he said in
a sharp, decided tone.
"Oh, I dare not! I cannot swim, and I might be drowned!" cried
Mary, her face turning ashen white.
"You won't drown--I will catch you. But make haste, this water is
so cold that I am afraid of cramp," Jervis said, feeling his teeth
chatter. Although it was July, there was so much ice in the bay in
the shape of floating bergs that the water was of course fearfully
chill.
"I can't do it; I simply can't!" she cried, with a shudder. "Mr.
Ferrars, I would rather lie here and drown than have to roll off
into that dreadful water. All my life I have been a coward, and it
is of no use expecting me to be brave now."
"You must do as you choose, of course, as you are too high up for
me to be able to reach you," he said, keeping his voice as steady
as he could, although his teeth were chattering still; "but all the
time you stay there you keep me here, so in compassing your own
death you compass mine also."
"Go away, Mr. Ferrars, go away, and save yourself," she groaned.
"I cannot, I dare not, plunge into that dreadful water!"
"You must; there is no other way to safety. Come, be a brave girl,
and take the plunge," he urged, a note of entreaty coming into his
tone, for life was sweet to him, sweeter than it had ever been
before, and it was dreadful to think that he must throw it away
because this wilful girl refused to allow herself to be saved. But
she only covered her face with her hands, moaning and crying
because of the panic that had her in its grip.
Then Jervis felt himself lifted higher; the water was rising fast,
and now, by straining upward and reaching as far as he could, he
managed just to touch the shelf whereon Mary was crouched.
"Here I am. Now, take my hand and come," he said urgently.
She only covered her face with her hands and moaned, but would not
stir nor look up.
In that narrow gulch they were sheltered from the wind, but the
rain was beginning to pour down in torrents, and Jervis thought
grimly that she would soon be as wet as if she had taken the plunge.
He was kicking vigorously in the water, and was thankful to find
that, now he had got over the first chill, his teeth were not
chattering so miserably.
Another ten minutes, he reckoned, would put him high enough in the
water to scramble on to the ledge, and then it would have to be a
tussle of physical strength, if necessary, for he meant to save
Mary somehow, whether she would let him or not.
The minutes dragged slowly on, the rain beat down with tempestuous
violence, and in that dreary gulch it was dark, almost like night.
But the water was rising still, and putting out all his strength
Jervis dragged himself up on to the shelf of rock. Mary saw him
coming. Then she scrambled to her feet with a cry of fear, and,
before he could stretch out an arm to save her, reeled and toppled
over into the water.