"He it was who sent the snowflakes
Sifting, hissing through the forest;
Froze the ponds, the lakes, the rivers,
* * * * *
Shinbegis, the diver, feared not."
_The Song of Hiawatha_.
The first day of February was mild, and foggy, and cloudy, and in the
night I woke feeling very hot, and threw off my quilt, and heard the
dripping of soft rain in the dark outside, and thought, "There goes our
skating." Towards morning, however, I woke again, and had to pull the
quilt back into its place, and when I started after breakfast to see
what the dam looked like, there was a sharpish frost, which, coming
after a day of thaw, had given the ice such a fine smooth surface as we
had not had for long.
I felt quite sorry for Jem, because he was going in the dog-cart with my
father to see a horse, and as I hadn't got him to skate with, I went
down to the farm after breakfast, to see what Charlie and the Woods were
going to do. Charlie was not well, but Mr. Wood said he would come to
the dam with me after dinner, as he had to go to the next village on
business, and the dam lay in his way.
"Keep to the pond this morning, Jack," he added, to my astonishment.
"Remember it thawed all yesterday; and if the wheel was freed and has
been turning, it has run water off from under the ice, and all may not
be sound that's smooth."
The pond was softer than it looked, but the mill-dam was most tempting.
A sheet of "glare ice," as Americans say, smooth and clear as a
newly-washed window-pane. I did not go on it, but I brought Mr. Wood to
it early in the afternoon, in the full hope that he would give me leave.
We found several young men on the bank, some fastening their skates and
some trying the ice with their heels, and as we stood there the numbers
increased, and most of them went on without hesitation; and when they
rushed in groups together, I noticed that the ice slightly swayed.
"The ice bends a good deal," said Mr. Wood to a man standing next to us.
"They say it's not so like to break when it bends," was the reply; and
the man moved on.
A good many of the elder men from the village had come up, and a group,
including John Binder, now stood alongside of us.
"There's a good sup of water atop of it," said the mason; and I noticed
then that the ice seemed to look wetter, like newly-washed glass still,
but like glass that wants wiping dry.
"I'm afraid the ice is not safe," said the school-master.
"It's a tidy thickness, sir," said John Binder, and a heavy man, with
his hands in his pockets and his back turned to us, stepped down and
gave two or three jumps, and then got up again, and, with his back still
turned towards us, said,
"It's reight enough."
"It's right enough for one man, but not for a crowd, I'm afraid. Was the
water-wheel freed last night, do you know?"
"It was loosed last night, but it's froz again," said a bystander.
"It's not freezing now," said the school-master, "and you may see how
much larger that weak place where the stream is has got since yesterday.
However," he added, good-humouredly, "I suppose you think you know your
own mill-dam and its ways better than I can?"
"Well," said the heavy man, still with his back to us, "I reckon we've
slid on this dam a many winters afore _you_ come. No offence, I hope?"
"By no means," said the school-master; "but if you old hands do begin
to feel doubtful as the afternoon goes on, call off those lads at the
other end in good time. And if you could warn them not to go in rushes
together--but perhaps they would not listen to you," he added with a
spice of malice.
"I don't suppose they would, sir," said John Binder, candidly. "They're
very venturesome, is lads."
"I reckon they'll suit themselves," said the heavy man, and he jumped on
to the ice, and went off, still with his back to us.
"If I hadn't lived so many years out of England and out of the world,"
said the school-master, turning to me with a half-vexed laugh, "I don't
suppose I should discredit myself to no purpose by telling fools they
are in danger. Jack! will you promise me not to go on the dam this
afternoon?"
"It is dangerous, is it?" I asked reluctantly; for I wanted sorely to
join the rest.
"That's a matter of opinion, it seems. But I have a wish that you should
not go on till I come back. I'll be as quick as I can. Promise me."
"I promise," said I.
"Will you walk with me?" he asked. But I refused. I thought I would
rather watch the others; and accordingly, after I had followed the
school-master with my eyes as he strode off at a pace that promised
soon to bring him back, I put my hands into my pockets and joined the
groups of watchers on the bank. I suppose if I had thought about it, I
might have observed that though I was dawdling about, my nose and ears
and fingers were not nipped. Mr. Wood was right,--it had not been
freezing for hours past.
The first thing I looked for was the heavy man. He was so clumsy-looking
that I quite expected him to fall when he walked off on to ice only fit
for skaters. But as I looked closer I saw that the wet on the top was
beginning to have a curdled look, and that the glassiness of the
mill-dam was much diminished. The heavy man's heavy boots got good
foothold, and several of his friends, seeing this, went after him. And
my promise weighed sorely on me.
The next thing that drew my attention was a lad of about seventeen, who
was skating really well. Indeed, everybody was looking at him, for he
was the only one of the villagers who could perform in any but the
clumsiest fashion, and, with an active interest that hovered between
jeering and applause, his neighbours followed him up and down the dam.
As I might not go on, I wandered up and down the bank too, and
occasionally joined in a murmured cheer when he deftly evaded some
intentional blunderer, or cut a figure at the request of his particular
friends. I got tired at last, and went down to the pond, where I
ploughed about for a time on my skates in solitude, for the pond was
empty. Then I ran up to the house to see if Jem had come back, but he
had not, and I returned to the dam to wait for the school-master.
The crowd was larger than before, for everybody's work-hours were over;
and the skater was still displaying himself. He was doing very difficult
figures now, and I ran round to where the bank was covered with people
watching him. In the minute that followed I remember three things with
curious distinctness. First, that I saw Mr. Wood coming back, only one
field off, and beckoned to him to be quick, because the lad was
beginning to cut a double three backwards, and I wanted the
school-master to see it. Secondly, that the sight of him seemed suddenly
to bring to my mind that we were all on the far side of the dam, the
side he thought dangerous. And thirdly, that, quickly as my eyes passed
from Mr. Wood to the skater, I caught sight of a bloated-looking young
man, whom we all knew as a sort of typical "bad lot," standing with
another man who was a great better, and from a movement between them, it
just flashed through my head that they were betting as to whether the
lad would cut the double three backwards or not.
He cut one--two--and then he turned too quickly and his skate caught in
the softening ice, and when he came headlong, his head struck, and
where it struck it went through. It looked so horrible that it was a
relief to see him begin to struggle; but the weakened ice broke around
him with every effort, and he went down.
For many a year afterwards I used to dream of his face as he sank, and
of the way the ice heaved like the breast of some living thing, and fell
back, and of the heavy waves that rippled over it out of that awful
hole. But great as was the shock, it was small to the storm of shame and
agony that came over me when I realized that every comrade who had been
around the lad had saved himself by a rush to the bank, where we huddled
together, a gaping crowd of foolhardy cowards, without skill to do
anything or heart to dare anything to save him.
At that time it maddened me so, that I felt that if I could not help the
lad I would rather be drowned in the hole with him, and I began to
scramble in a foolish way down the bank, but John Binder caught me by
the arm and pulled me back, and said (I suppose to soothe me),
"Yon's the school-master, sir;" and then I saw Mr. Wood fling himself
over the hedge by the alder thicket (he was rather good at high jumps),
and come flying along the bank towards us, when he said,
"What's the matter?"
I threw my arms round him and sobbed, "He was cutting a double three
backwards, and he went in."
Mr. Wood unclasped my arms and turned to the rest.
"What have you done with him?" he said. "Did he hurt himself?"
If the crowd was cowardly and helpless, it was not indifferent; and I
shall never forget the haggard faces that turned by one impulse, where a
dozen grimy hands pointed--to the hole.
"He's drowned dead." "He's under t' ice." "He went right down," several
men hastened to reply, but most of them only enforced the mute
explanation of their pointed finger with, "He's yonder."
For yet an instant I don't think Mr. Wood believed it, and then he
seized the man next to him (without looking, for he was blind with rage)
and said,
"He's yonder, _and you're here_?"
As it happened, it was the man who had talked with his back to us. He
was very big and very heavy, but he reeled when Mr. Wood shook him, like
a feather caught by a storm.
"You were foolhardy enough an hour ago," said the school-master. "Won't
one of you venture on to your own dam to help a drowning man?"
"There's none on us can swim, sir," said John Binder. "It's a bad
job"--and he gave a sob that made me begin to cry again, and several
other people too--"but where'd be t' use of drowning five or six more
atop of him?"
"Can any of you run if you can't swim?" said the school-master. "Get a
stout rope--as fast as you can, and send somebody for the doctor and a
bottle of brandy, and a blanket or two to carry him home in. Jack! Hold
these."
I took his watch and his purse, and he went down the bank and walked on
to the ice; but after a time his feet went through as the skater's head
had gone.
"It ain't a bit of use. There's nought to be done," said the bystanders:
for, except those who had run to do Mr. Wood's bidding, we were all
watching and all huddled closer to the edge than ever. The school-master
went down on his hands and knees, on which a big lad, with his hands in
his trouser-pockets, guffawed.
"What's he up to now?" he asked.
"Thee may haud thee tongue if thee can do nought," said a mill-girl who
had come up. "I reckon he knows what he's efter better nor thee." She
had pushed to the front, and was crouched upon the edge, and seemed very
much excited. "GOD bless him for trying to save t' best lad in t'
village i' any fashion, say I! There's them that's nearer kin to him and
not so kind."
Perhaps the strict justice of this taunt prevented a reply (for there
lurks some fairness in the roughest of us), or perhaps the crowd, being
chiefly men knew from experience that there are occasions when it is
best to let a woman say her say.
"Ye see he's trying to spread hisself out," John Binder explained in
pacific tones. "I reckon he thinks it'll bear him if he shifts half of
his weight on to his hands."
The girl got nearer to the mason, and looked up at him with her eyes
full of tears.
"Thank ye, John," she said. "D'ye think he'll get him out?"
"Maybe he will, my lass. He's a man that knows what he's doing. I'll say
so much for him."
"Nay!" added the mason sorrowfully. "Th' ice 'll never hold him--his
hand's in--and there goes his knee. Maester! maester!" he shouted, "come
off! come off!" and many a voice besides mine echoed him, "Come off!
come off!"
The girl got John Binder by the arm, and said hoarsely, "Fetch him off!
He's a reight good 'un--over good to be drownded, if--if it's of no
use." And she sat down on the bank, and pulled her mill-shawl over her
head, and cried as I had never seen any one cry before.
I was so busy watching her that I did not see that Mr. Wood had got back
to the bank. Several hands were held out to help him, but he shook his
head and said--"Got a knife?"
Two or three jack-knives were out in an instant. He pointed to the alder
thicket. "I want two poles," he said, "sixteen feet long, if you can,
and as thick as my wrist at the bottom."
"All right, sir."
He sat down on the bank, and I rushed up and took one of his cold wet
hands in both mine, and said, "Please, please, don't go on any more."
"He must be dead ever so long ago," I added, repeating what I had heard.
"He hasn't been in the water ten minutes," said the school-master,
laughing, "Jack! Jack! you're not half ready for travelling yet. You
must learn not to lose your head and your heart and your wits and your
sense of time in this fashion, if you mean to be any good at a pinch to
yourself or your neighbours. Has the rope come?"
"No, sir."
"Those poles?" said the school-master, getting up.
"They're here!" I shouted, as a young forest of poles came towards us,
so willing had been the owners of the jack-knives. The thickest had
been cut by the heavy man, and Mr. Wood took it first.
"Thank you, friend," he said. The man didn't speak, and he turned his
back as usual, but he gave a sideways surly nod before he turned. The
school-master chose a second pole, and then pushed both before him right
out on to the ice, in such a way that with the points touching each
other they formed a sort of huge A, the thicker ends being the nearer to
the bank.
"Now, Jack," said he, "pay attention; and no more blubbering. There's
always plenty of time for giving way _afterwards_."
As he spoke he scrambled on to the poles, and began to work himself and
them over the ice, wriggling in a kind of snake fashion in the direction
of the hole. We watched him breathlessly, but within ten yards of the
hole he stopped. He evidently dared not go on; and the same thought
seized all of us--"Can he get back?" Spreading his legs and arms he now
lay flat upon the poles, peering towards the hole as if to try if he
could see anything of the drowning man. It was only for an instant, then
he rolled over on to the rotten ice, smashed through, and sank more
suddenly than the skater had done.
The mill-girl jumped up with a wild cry and rushed to the water, but
John Binder pulled her back as he had pulled me. Martha, our housemaid,
said afterwards (and was ready to take oath on the gilt-edged Church
service my mother gave her) that the girl was so violent that it took
fourteen men to hold her; but Martha wasn't there, and I only saw two,
one at each arm, and when she fainted they laid her down and left her,
and hurried back to see what was going on. For tenderness is an acquired
grace in men, and it was not common in our neighbourhood.
What was going on was that John Binder had torn his hat from his head
and was saying, "I don't know if there's aught we _can_ do, but I can't
go home myself and leave him yonder. I'm a married man with a family,
but I don't vally _my_ life if----"
But the rest of this speech was drowned in noise more eloquent than
words, and then it broke into cries of "See thee!--It is--it's t'
maester! and he has--no!--yea!--he _has_--he's gotten him. Polly, lass!
he's fetched up thy Arthur by t' hair of his heead."
It was strictly true. The school-master told me afterwards how it was.
When he found that the ice would bear no longer, he rolled into the
water on purpose, but, to his horror, he felt himself seized by the
drowning man, which pulled him suddenly down. The lad had risen once, it
seems, though we had not seen him, and had got a breath of air at the
hole, but the edge broke in his numbed fingers, and he sank again and
drifted under the ice. When he rose the second time, by an odd chance it
was just where Mr. Wood broke in, and his clutch of the school-master
nearly cost both their lives.
"If ever," said Mr. Wood, when he was talking about it afterwards, "if
ever, Jack, when you're out in the world you get under water, and
somebody tries to save you, when he grips _you_, don't seize _him_, if
you can muster self-control to avoid it. If you cling to him, you'll
either drown both, or you'll force him to do as I did--throttle you, to
keep you quiet."
"Did you?" I gasped.
"Of course I did. I got him by the throat and dived with him--the only
real risk I ran, as I did not know how deep the dam was."
"It's an old quarry," said I.
"I know now. We went down well, and I squeezed his throat as we went. As
soon as he was still we naturally rose, and I turned on my back and got
him by the head. I looked about for the hole, and saw it glimmering
above me like a moon in a fog, and then up we came."
When they did come up, our joy was so great that for the moment we felt
as if all was accomplished; but far the hardest part really was to come.
When the school-master clutched the poles once more, and drove one under
the lad's arms and under his own left arm, and so kept his burden
afloat whilst he broke a swimming path for himself with the other, our
admiration of his cleverness gave place to the blessed thought that it
might now be possible to help him. The sight of the poles seemed
suddenly to suggest it, and in a moment every spare pole had been
seized, and, headed by our heavy friend, eight or ten men plunged in,
and, smashing the ice before them, waded out to meet the school-master.
On the bank we were dead silent; in the water they neither stopped nor
spoke till it was breast high round their leader.
I have often thought, and have always felt quite sure, that if the heavy
man had gone on till the little grey waves and the bits of ice closed
over him, not a soul of those who followed him would--nay, _could_--have
turned back. Heroism, like cowardice, is contagious, and I do not think
there was one of us by that time who would have feared to dare or
grudged to die.
As it was, the heavy man stood still and shouted for the rope. It had
come, and perhaps it was not the smallest effect of the day's teaching,
that those on the bank paid it out at once to those in the water till it
reached the leader, without waiting to ask why he wanted it. The grace
of obedience is slow to be learnt by disputatious northmen, but we had
had some hard teaching that afternoon.
When the heavy man got the rope he tied the middle part of it round
himself, and, coiling the shorter end, he sent it, as if it had been a
quoit, skimming over the ice towards the school-master. As it unwound
itself it slid along, and after a struggle Mr. Wood grasped it. I fancy
he fastened it round the lad's body; and got his own hands freer to
break the ice before them. Then the heavy man turned, and the long end
of the line, passing from hand to hand in the water, was seized upon the
bank by every one who could get hold of it. I never was more squeezed
and buffeted in my life; but we fairly fought for the privilege of
touching if it were but a strand of the rope that dragged them in.
And a flock of wild birds, resting on their journey at the other end of
the mill-dam, rose in terror and pursued their seaward way; so wild and
so prolonged were the echoes of that strange, speechless cry in which
collective man gives vent to overpowering emotion.
It is odd, when one comes to think of it, but I know it is true, for two
sensible words would have stuck in my own throat and choked me, but I
cheered till I could cheer no longer.