JIM'S ENLIGHTENMENT
Jim waited for some time behind a bowlder by the salt-water pond, and
then shot a duck. The report echoed among the belts of fog and after
the noise died away the roar of the advancing tide was ominously loud,
but Jim thought he heard something else. He listened, and in a few
moments a cry came faintly across the sands. Somebody was calling for
help, and Jim began to run. He might have to go some distance and his
punt would soon float.
After a few minutes he plunged into a belt of mist. The sand was soft
and his waders and heavy gun embarrassed him, but he heard the call
again and thought he knew the voice. He labored on, breathing hard,
until by and by the tog melted and he saw two figures not far off.
"Jake!" he shouted. "Is it you and Carrie?"
Jake answered, and Jim was conscious of a relief that shook him when
the others came up. Carrie was splashed by mud and breathless with
haste.
"What are you doing on the sands?" he asked.
"Car broke down; we tried to get across," Jake replied. "Saw the
Langrigg hill when we started and then the fog came on. They told us
to head for some stake-nets, but we couldn't find them. Then we met
the water and reckoned we were lost. Is your punt about?"
"She is not far off," said Jim, who turned to Carrie. "We must hustle.
Can you run?"
Carrie said she would try and they set off, but when they had gone a
few hundred yards a wave of thick fog rolled up, blotting out the
moonlight.
"This is awkward," Jim gasped, taking Carrie's arm and helping her on.
"Still, if we keep going, we'll soon strike the gutter."
The roar of the surf gave him some guidance, but sound is puzzling in a
fog; there was very little wind, and he could not see the moon. He
knew the tide was now running up the channel and hoped he was heading
the right way. Shortly afterwards a dull report rolled across the
sands.
"A ten-bore!" he exclaimed. "Mordaunt uses a twelve. I expect Dick's
shooting, and since the water's rising, he's on the shore flat. Where
do you locate the shot?"
"A little to the left," said Jake.
They swerved and presently heard the gun again.
"That's for us," gasped Jim. "Dick has found the punt; I reckon she's
afloat."
"Let me go, Jim," said Carrie. "Hurry on and get the punt."
Jim pressed her arm and urged her forward. "I'm going to stick to you
until you're safe on board."
"Water!" shouted Jake, from a few yards in front; and something
glimmered in the fog, which was getting thin again.
They could see for a short distance, but when they stopped at the edge
of the channel the punt was not about. She was, however, painted an
inconspicuous gray, and Jim thought she was not far off. While he
hesitated, wondering which way to turn, a heavy report came out of the
melting fog.
"Hallo!" Jake shouted. "Where's our punt?"
"On your side," somebody answered. "Saw her five minutes since and
then the water drove me back."
The voice came from their left and after running a short distance they
stopped. A low, indistinct object floated about thirty yards off, and
Jim, dropping Carrie's arm, stood for a moment with his hands clenched.
The wave-lined sand was level, and this meant much, because the bank of
the gutter was steep. The tide had filled the hollow and he could not
see across. He was not disturbed about the depth, but the current
rippled across the sand, carrying along clumps of weed and flakes of
foam that showed how fast it went.
"Give me your knife," he said to Jake, as he pulled off his oilskin.
"I've got to swim. You must stay with Carrie; I swim better."
He slit the waders and tore them off with his canvas shoes; then he ran
along the sand, heading up stream, and when he judged he had gone far
enough plunged in. After he had taken a few steps the water frothed
about his waist, and next moment swept him off his feet. He swam
savagely, swinging his left arm out and steering obliquely against the
current that carried him along. The water was horribly cold and cut
his breathing and cramped his muscles, but if he missed the punt he
might be swept some distance up the channel before he could land. He
must not miss the punt, because he would be too exhausted to try again
and did not think Jake could reach her.
After a minute or two he saw the punt; she was swinging about in the
rush of tide and seemed to forge towards him. A rippling line marked
her painter. He stopped swimming and let himself drift. He must not
be carried past; and presently he made a quick stroke and felt a
triumphant thrill when his numbed fingers clutched the craft's low
side. For all that, he had not conquered yet. He was tired, and it is
hard to get on board a floating punt.
The current swept his legs under the boat, and when he tried to lift
himself she rolled down with his weight and threatened to capsize. But
he must not be beaten. He was fighting for Carrie's life, and
remembering this gave him extra strength. Sliding his hands along the
side of the punt, he let the current take him aft, and then with a
desperate effort lifted the upper of his body above the pointed stern.
Next moment, he fell forward on the deck and crawled to the well. He
had won. He tried to shout, but could not. His heart beat like a
hammer and he choked.
Pulling himself together, he seized the line at the bow, and in a few
moments the anchor was on board and he picked up the pole. The punt
drifted fast up channel while he headed for the bank, but he saw Jake
running along the sand and presently threw the light anchor as far as
he could. Jake caught the line and Jim, springing overboard, ran
through the water and picked up Carrie.
He felt her tremble and kissed her as she put her arms round his neck.
It did not matter it Jake saw or not. After putting her on board he
jumped in and grasped the pole.
"Shove us off," he said to Jake. "I'll come back for you."
They lost the bank in the fog, and soon the pole did not touch bottom
and Jim used the paddle. After a few minutes, he saw an indistinct
figure, apparently in the water; and then his paddle struck sand.
Jumping over, he held out his arms and did not put Carrie down until he
had carried her some distance from the channel. He had afterwards a
hazy notion that he kissed her again. When he turned back Dick was
pushing off the punt.
"I'll bring Jake; you have had enough," he said.
Jim shoved him back. "It's my job; he's my partner. Look after
Carrie. Start for the marsh."
He got on board and when the punt vanished in the fog Dick turned to
Carrie. "They may be ten minutes; the tide's running fast. You are
wet and perhaps we had better get off."
"No," said Carrie. "I won't move until they're safe across."
Dick gave her a quick glance. She looked resolute; her voice had a
strange exultant note. He was anxious to start, since he thought they
might find some water in a gutter between them and land, but it was
obvious that Carrie could not be persuaded. Presently the punt came
across and the others got out.
"Have you been here long?" Jim asked when he had driven the anchor into
the sand.
"No," said Dick. "I fired the gun as soon as I arrived. The punt was
on your side, I imagined you were about, and I can't swim much. I'd
seen the punt before. I went to meet Jake and Carrie, but met the
water. No doubt, they crossed the channel that stopped me, farther up."
Jim nodded. "Looks like that. It was a big relief when we heard you
shoot. But I'm puzzled: the punt was some distance from the bank and
the anchor was covered. I thought I'd carried it far enough back."
"Then you didn't move her after you pulled her up?"
"Certainly not," Jim rejoined, with some surprise. "If I'd wanted her
to float, I wouldn't have bothered to drag her up over the steep mud."
"Oh, well, we must get off," said Dick, who did not want to talk about
the punt. "The tide's running fast across the flats; I think we'll
make for the shell ridge."
Although the fog was thick, they reached the marsh, where Dick left
them. He was wet and it was some distance to Whitelees, but he would
not go to Langrigg and put on dry clothes. When Jim got calm he might
feel curious about the punt. Dick was not ready to satisfy his
curiosity yet. He was disturbed and wanted to get away.
The others went on, and when they came down to dinner nobody looked
much the worse. Jim, however, was quiet and although Carrie talked and
sometimes laughed, he imagined her cheerfulness was forced. Jake alone
seemed to have a good appetite and Jim was annoyed when Mrs. Winter
remarked that he did not eat much. She declared the dinner was pretty
good, although it had been served an hour or two late. When it was
over, Jim looked at the clock and proposed that they should play cards.
He would sooner have gone off to the library by himself, but Jake might
speculate about this and so long as they were occupied he need not
talk. The others would go to bed soon, and then he could grapple with
an awkward situation.
At length, Jake put down his cards. "I can't make it; you have beaten
us," he said, and pushed back his chair. "If you want to see the men
start to-morrow we had better go to bed."
He brought Mrs. Winter a candle and they left the hall; but Carrie
stopped to pick up the cards, and Jim waited. He heard Jake say good
night to his mother on the landing, and their steps died away. It was
very quiet in the hall, except for the snapping of the fire; and Jim's
hand trembled as he struck a match and lighted Carrie's candle. She
heard him move and looked up. There was some color in her face, which
cut sharply against the dark oak. Jim put the candle on the carved
newel-post at the bottom of the stairs.
"I was badly scared when we found the water was round the punt," he
said. "In fact, I rather lost my control."
"You were not scared for yourself and were very cool and quick," Carrie
replied and forced a smile. "Perhaps some people do lose control when
they are strongly moved, but you are not that kind."
Jim gave her a keen glance. It looked as if she meant to persuade him
that he had acted normally, but this was ridiculous. Perhaps she meant
to hint that his rashness must not be talked about. Coolness was hard,
but he was honest and there was something to be said.
"I wonder whether you know I am going to marry Evelyn?" he remarked.
She met his glance. "Yes, Jim; I knew some time since. It doesn't
matter that you told nobody. Well, she's beautiful and very charming."
She moved, and taking the candle from the post, calmly looked back at
him. "Of course, you're going to marry Evelyn! But the others have
gone, and I'm tired. Good night."
He let her go, and when she went up the shallow stairs, crossed the
floor to the hearth. There was a looking-glass close by and he started
as he saw his face. His brows were knitted and his mouth was set.
Carrie was clever and while he talked to her he had looked like that!
He began to see what she had meant when she said he was, of course,
going to marry Evelyn.
He sat down and gazed savagely at the sinking fire. What a fool he had
been! Evelyn had moved him to romantic admiration. Her beauty, her
high cultivation and refinement had made a strong appeal, but he had
not known that they appealed mainly to his intellect, and it counted
for much that she was the first Englishwoman of her type he had met.
He knew now, and saw he had deceived himself. Enlightenment had come
when Carrie ran some risk of being drowned and he had taken her in his
arms.
Evelyn was, so to speak, a model of perfection, worthy to be admired,
but really out of his reach. In a sense, she left him cold; but Carrie
was warm and loving flesh and blood. She had worked with him and
cheered him in the lonely North; her small failings had a curious
charm. She appealed to all that was human in him; it was ridiculous
that he had imagined his love for her was brotherly.
He began to think about their last interview, when he had lighted the
candle. She had said little, but she had meant much. His kissing her
must be forgotten and he must marry Evelyn. Carrie wanted him to
understand that she saw this and was jealous for his honor. If he drew
back and broke his faith with Evelyn, she would have nothing to do with
him. Moreover, it was unthinkable that he should draw back. He sat
still for some time with his hands clenched and then got up abruptly
and went out.
The wind the surf had threatened had come and blown back the fog. Its
rude buffet braced him, the roar of the sea and wail of the trees that
rolled down the slope were soothing. The moon was bright and when he
saw the foam glitter in the bay his sense of rebellion began to melt.
Carrie was safe; he had saved her and she had shown him his duty.
Well, he was going to carry it out, and after all Evelyn's charm was
strong. He had been a fool, but only Carrie knew, and Evelyn must not
pay. By and by he went back to the house, calmed but not much
comforted.
In the meantime, Dick reached Whitelees and did not say much about his
adventure. When he had got some food he went to the smoking-room and
looked for paper and a pencil. He wanted to refresh his memory of the
footsteps about the punt and the marks left by the anchor line. It was
important that he should do so, but although he sat for an hour,
drawing rough plans of the spot, he was not satisfied. Unluckily, he
could not go back to the sands in the morning and study the ground,
because he had promised to join some friends in town for a week. All
the same, it was some relief to put off the matter and go to bed, but
he did not sleep much and felt moody when he got an early breakfast and
started for the station.