FOOTSTEPS IN THE SAND
Jim had a shooting-punt built, and now and then when the tide served at
night, paddled up the creeks and shot a goose or duck, although he did
not use a big punt-gun. He liked to pick out his birds and not throw a
pound of shot into a flock. In the meantime, he pushed on the draining
of the marsh, and although he spent anxious hours counting the cost,
resolved to hold out until the job was done. As a rule, he was
preoccupied and quiet, and Evelyn often found him dull. His talk about
dykes and sluices did not amuse her.
By and by he found it needful to engage some drain-cutters, and one
afternoon Jake, taking Carrie with him, started for a village on the
other side of the bay. It was a long way round the sands and when they
were near the village the car stopped and Jake found a valve had
broken. He engaged the men he wanted and afterwards resolved to leave
the car and walk back across the sands. The few cottages were very
small and their occupants had no room for strangers, but the bay got
narrow near its mouth and the distance across the sands was scarcely
three miles. Jake did not expect to find much water in the channels,
and when he had borrowed a pair of fishermen's waders for Carrie, and
they had got a meal at a cottage, they set off.
It was dark and fog drifted in from sea, but the moon shone between
slowly-moving clouds. The throb of the surf was unusually loud and a
fisherman told Jake to get across as soon as he could. He said there
was wind outside and the tide often turned before its proper time when
a fresh breeze was coming.
When dusk fell Jim returned from the marsh and found Mrs. Winter in the
hall. There was nobody else about, and he thought the hall looked
lonely. He was tired after a day's hard work and sat down in an
easy-chair when Mrs. Winter asked if he would like some tea.
"I'll wait until Carrie comes," he said. "Jake ought to have brought
her back by now. The house feels empty when they're not here."
Mrs. Winter mused. Although Jim had rather unwillingly agreed when
Evelyn insisted that nobody should be told about their engagement, he
took much for granted when he imagined that nobody knew. Mrs. Winter
was not deceived by his silence and knew that Carrie understood.
"When do you reckon you'll finish the dykes, Jim?" she asked presently.
"I don't know," he said. "It looks like a long job and money's getting
short. Anyhow, I have got to put it over, because I can't stand for
losing the sum I've already spent. But why do you ask?"
"Because we must go back when you have no more use for Jake."
"Oh," said Jim, smiling, "I'll always have some use for Jake, and
Langrigg wouldn't be the same if he took you away. You and Carrie make
the old house feel like home."
Mrs. Winter felt troubled. Jim was obviously sincere, and she had
liked him from the beginning. She had been happy at Langrigg; after
the strain of hard work and poverty, it was nice to rest and control
the well-ordered English household. Carrie, too, had been happy, but
Mrs. Winter imagined she was not happy now. Although the girl had grit
and would play her part well, Mrs. Winter did not mean to let her wait
for Jim's wedding.
"You know we can't stay very long," she said.
"I don't see why it's impossible."
"You may get married."
"Well?" said Jim. "Suppose I do? There's plenty of room at Langrigg
and my wife would be kind to my friends when she knew how much I owe
them."
"The plan wouldn't work. When you marry, your wife will have first
claim on you. I reckon she'll have all the claim there is and won't
want to share it with anybody else."
Jim frowned. Perhaps Mrs. Winter was justified. Now he came to think
of it, he had once or twice got a hint that Evelyn did not altogether
understand his friendship for Carrie.
"I hate to think of your going," he declared. "Anyhow, you must stay
for some time yet. Jake promised to help me finish the draining
scheme, and I may go broke. Then I'd need him more."
He got up and was silent for a few moments. If he lost his money, his
engagement to Evelyn must be broken off. This was obvious, but if he
had, for example, meant to marry Carrie, his embarrassments would not,
in one sense, matter much. Carrie would meet their troubles with a
smile and help him to make good. Still he must not indulge thoughts
like this.
"I think I'll take the punt and paddle up the big creek," he said.
"You can tell Carrie she ought to have come back to give me tea. Since
she hasn't come, I'll wait for dinner."
He went off and Mrs. Winter mused. Jim generally knew what he wanted,
but his attitude was puzzling now. Although he meant to marry Evelyn
and imagined he loved her, Mrs. Winter doubted. She wondered whether
Evelyn had, so to speak, dazzled him by her grace and beauty. Jim was
resolute and practical, but not clever. Mrs. Winter sighed and
imagined she had been foolish to let Carrie stay so long, but she could
not see her way. Jim would not be married until he had drained the
marsh and Jake would not go before the work was finished. Mrs. Winter
admitted that he could not go.
In the meantime, Jim launched his shooting-punt in a muddy creek. The
punt would carry two people and measured about eighteen feet long and
nearly three feet wide. She was decked, except for a short well, and
when loaded floated a few inches above the water. A bundle of reeds
was fastened across the head-ledge of the well to hide the occupant
when he lay down and used the short paddle.
Jim stood on the after-deck and drove the punt down the creek with a
pole. He could see across the bank, and the wet marsh, glistening
faintly in the moonlight, ran back into thin mist. In front, the creek
got wider until it melted into the expanse of sands. Here and there a
belt of smooth mud caught a silvery reflection, but for the most part
the sands were dark. The night was calm and the advancing surf rumbled
in the distance like a heavy train. It was a good night for shooting
and Jim wondered whether anybody else was about. Mordaunt and Dick now
and then went after the geese, and Shanks, in his shooting punt,
generally haunted the channels when the gaggles came down to feed.
It was some time after low-water when Jim reached the main channel and
stopped to listen. He thought the surf was unusually loud, but he
could not hear the geese. The wild cry of a curlew came out of the
dark and red-shanks were whistling in the distance. The water, so far
as he could see, was still, and this meant the tide had not yet entered
the channel. He thought he ought to have an hour before it did so, but
the current would run fast then. Tides rise high when high-water comes
at twelve o'clock with a full moon.
After a few minutes he set off again. There was no need for him to lie
down and he stood on deck, using the pole. It sank about a foot, but
presently the water shoaled and when the punt touched bottom he got
over and dragged her by a line. He wore a yellow oilskin, long waders,
and thin canvas shoes. At length, the punt would float no farther, and
putting her on rollers, he pulled her a short distance up the bank and
afterwards carried a small anchor as far as the line would allow. He
was a mile and a half from land, the tide would soon flow, and if the
geese were about, he might be away some time. Then, picking up his
gun, he set off up the nearly dry channel. There was a salt-water
lake, bordered by a weedy scar, not far off, and he might find some
brant geese or ducks.
In the meantime, Dick Halliday called at Langrigg, and was received by
Mrs. Winter.
"Are you all alone?" he asked.
Mrs. Winter told him where Jake and Carrie had gone, and that Jim was
shooting. Dick inquired when Jake had started and looked thoughtful
when Mrs. Winter replied.
"They ought to have been back some time since," he remarked. "The road
is very bad where it runs across the head of the bay and high tides
cover the causeway for an hour or two. I don't think Jake would wait
until dark; the car has probably broken down."
"Then they would have to stop all night?"
"I doubt if anybody could take them in. There are only a few cottages
and the mussel-gatherers and farm-hands have swarms of children. I
rather imagine Jake would walk across the sands----"
He stopped and looked at the tall clock, and then crossing the floor,
pulled back the window-curtains and opened a light. Mrs. Winter noted
that his movements were quick and thought him anxious. Dick came
rather often to Langrigg and she imagined Carrie attracted him,
although she knew the girl had not meant to use her charm.
"It's nearly full-moon," he remarked when he came back. "I don't think
Jim will mind if I borrow one of his guns. I know where they are.
Don't bother to ring."
"Are you going to shoot?" Mrs. Winter asked.
"I might get a shot," Dick replied carelessly. "Anyhow, I'll walk
across the sands. I may find Jim, or perhaps meet Jake and Carrie
coming back."
He went to the gun-room and took down a heavy ten-bore, that would make
a loud report, for the fog he had seen from the window was getting
thick. Then he put some cartridges in his pocket, and finding a pair
of waders, went back and smiled when he met Mrs. Winter's curious
glance.
"Carrie may be glad of the waders," he said. "There's sometimes a
little water in the hollows, and I don't expect Jake knows the driest
way. Now I'll get off."
Mrs. Winter let him go. She was beginning to feel alarmed, but Dick's
quick, resolute movements comforted her. He had been careful not to
hint there was a risk, but if there was, he would know the best way of
meeting it. Dick did not hurry when he went down the freshly-raked
gravel drive, but when he reached the road he walked as fast as the
heavy gun would let him. Carrie was on the sands, it was past
low-water, and Jake did not know much about the gutters through which
the tide ran up the bay. Dick did know, and had sometimes seen a
white-topped bore roll like a wall of foam across the flats when the
moon was full. To-night, when wind was coming, the tide would rise
fast.
It was rough walking across the marsh, where he was forced to jump
ditches and wind about among deep holes, and he was glad to reach the
sands. Stopping for a few moments, he took off his boots. The sand
was cold, but he meant to strike the shortest line across the bay and
in places the mud was soft. He knew one can pull one's naked foot
loose where one's boots would stick; moreover, Carrie would like the
waders dry.
Dick began to think about Carrie as he set out across the flats. He
liked her much, and admitted that it cost him an effort not to fall in
love with her; Carrie had made him feel that this could not be allowed.
Sometimes he wondered why, and sometimes he thought he knew; but then
he suspected that Jim would marry Evelyn. Dick approved Jim, but
doubted if he was altogether the man for Evelyn. Perhaps, however,
when he came to think about it, he really meant that Evelyn was not the
girl for Jim. There was a difference----.
He pulled himself up. He was fond of Evelyn, although he knew her
faults; besides, the fog was thick and he must keep his proper course.
He ought to strike the big gutter soon and was anxious about the tide:
it would soon run up the hollows in the flats. He wondered where
Mordaunt was, because Lance had told him he was going out on the sands
and he had not heard his gun.
Shortly afterwards, Dick went down the bank of the gutter and began to
wade across. The water did not come much above his ankles; but it was
moving; slowly yet, although it would soon run fast. He got across and
saw Jim's punt on the muddy sand. The fog was low and drifted about in
belts, clearing now and then, and when he stopped by the punt the moon
shone through.
Dick was puzzled. The punt had been moved since Jim pulled her up the
bank. It was prudent to leave her where one could get on board when
the tide rose, but Dick could not see why Jim had afterwards moved her
down. He had, however, done so, because the rollers he used had made a
rut in the sand in advance of her present position. Then the anchor
had been carried up to higher ground, for one could see where the line
had dragged, although it now lay close to the punt. Dick began to
examine the footsteps about the spot. He was something of a naturalist
and a good wildfowler and had studied the tracks of animals and birds.
Jim had obviously come up the gutter and another man had joined him.
The other was barefooted and the marks seemed to indicate that he had
helped Jim to run down the punt. Then a third man had arrived and Dick
thought this was Lance, because he wore nailed fishing brogues. Lance
often used brogues; he was cautious and did not like soft mud. Dick
imagined Lance had reached the spot after the others and was somewhere
about; he would not go far from the gutter when the tide was rising.
The thing was strange, but since Jim had moved the punt back, there was
no reason why Dick should meddle. Jim had probably gone to the scar
and no doubt knew how long he could stay. Moreover, Dick's business
was to find Carrie, and he set off again.
He followed a small creek that joined the big gutter. Its channel was
narrow and cut rather deep into the sand. Although a belt of fog
rolled up he could see fifty or sixty yards, and presently
distinguished a hazy figure near a bend of the creek. He thought it
was about Lance's height, and shouted; but the fellow did not answer
and vanished next moment. It looked as if the fog had rolled nearer
and hidden him, although he might have gone down into the creek. Dick
went to the edge, but saw nobody, although he crossed a row of steps.
This was puzzling. He imagined the other had heard his shout and was
in the hollow, where his shooting-clothes would melt into the
background. The sand, however, was soft and the marks had begun to
fill up. Dick did not see why he should follow them, since the man
might have meant to hide until the geese flew over. He gave it up and
pushed on.
The fog crept towards him and did not look as if it would soon roll
away. For all that, he knew the sands and had the noise of the
advancing surf for a guide, which was lucky because speed was
important. A stream ran through the flats near the other shore, and if
Carrie and Jake had started they would have crossed its channel and now
be on the long peninsula of sand that went up the middle of the bay.
When the water rose they could not get across the main gutter, and it
would be hard to reach the land from the end of the peninsula because
it was traversed by a number of little creeks, up which the tide forced
its way.
After a time, Dick stopped and fired the gun. He heard nothing but the
echoes that rolled across the waste and the roar of the sea. The
latter was ominously loud and he began to run. When he had gone some
distance, he tried another shot and disturbed two black-backed gulls
that made a noise like hoarse laughter as they flew overhead. This was
all, and he felt that the gulls were mocking him. He was getting
anxious, and ran on until he was forced to stop for breath, as the fog
began to lift. It rolled back before a little puff of wind, the moon
shone through, and he saw glittering water in front.
Dick began to run the other way. He could do no more, and it looked as
if Jake and Carrie were not on the middle sand. After all, he had not
much ground for imagining they had meant to cross the bay; if there was
no room at the village, they might have walked to a station four or
five miles off and gone to the market town. He must save himself, and
since he hardly thought he could reach Jim's punt before she floated,
he headed up the middle sand. One could cross the gutter farther on,
if one knew the right spot, but it would mean wading some distance and
he must be quick. He got through, and then ran back along the edge of
the channel. He wanted to see if Jim had returned to the punt.