"Ay, here he comes!" shouted a strange voice.
It was that of the youth of the ulster, who now stood waist-deep eagerly
stretching out his hands, towards an object with which the wild waves
seemed to sport lovingly. It was indeed little Billy, his eyes closed,
his face white, and his curly yellow hair tossing in the foam, but he
made no effort to save himself; evidently the force of the sea and
perhaps the cold had been too much for his slight frame to bear.
Twice did the young man make a grasp and miss him. To go deeper in
would have perhaps insured his own destruction. The third time he
succeeded in catching the boy's hair; the men on shore hauled them in,
and soon little Billy lay on the beach surrounded by anxious fishermen.
"Come, mates," said one, in a deep voice, "let's carry him to his
mother."
"Not so," said the young man who had rescued Billy, and who had only
lain still for a moment where he had fallen to recover breath. "Let him
lie. Undo his necktie, one of you."
While he spoke he was busy making a tight roll of his own coat which he
immediately placed under the shoulders of Billy, and proceeded at once
to attempt to restore breathing by one of the methods of resuscitating
the drowned.
The fishermen assisted him, some hopefully, some doubtfully, a few with
looks of disbelief in the process. The youth persevered, however, with
unflagging patience, well knowing that half-drowned people have been
restored after nearly an hour of labour.
"Who is he?" inquired one fisherman of another, referring to the
stranger.
"Don't you know him, mate?" asked the other in surprise.
"No, I've just come ashore, you know."
"That's Mr Dalton, the young banker, as takes such a lift o' the
temp'rance coffee-taverns an' Blue-Ribbon movement."
"He's comin'-to, sir!" exclaimed a voice eagerly.
This had reference to little Billy, whose eyelids had been seen to
quiver, and who presently heaved a sigh.
"Fetch my coat," said Dalton. "He will indeed be restored, thank God."
The big ulster was brought. Billy was carefully wrapped up in it, and
one of the stoutest among his fisher friends lifted him in his arms and
bore him off to his mother.
"Have all the others been rescued?" inquired Dalton, eagerly, when Billy
had been carried away.
No one could answer the question. All knew that some of the _Evening
Star's_ crew had been saved, but they could not say how many.
"They've bin taken to the Sailor's Home, sir," said one man.
"Then run up like a good fellow and ask if _all_ are safe," said Dalton.
"Meanwhile I will remain here and search the beach lest there should be
more to rescue."
Turning again to the foaming sea the young banker proceeded slowly along
the shore some distance, when he observed the body of a man being rolled
up on the sand and dragged back by each returning wave. Rushing forward
he caught it, and, with the aid of the fishermen, carried it beyond the
reach of the hungry waves. But these waves had already done their
worst. Dalton applied the proper means for restoration, but without
success, and again the fishermen began to look gravely at each other and
shake their heads.
"Poor woman!" they murmured, but said no more. Their feelings were too
deep for speech as they mourned for one who was by that time a widow,
though she knew it not.
At that moment some of the men came running down from the town--one, a
tall, strong figure, ahead of them. It was Joe Davidson. He had been
more exhausted than some of the others on being rescued, and had been
led to the Sailor's Home in a scarcely conscious condition. When they
began to reckon up the saved, and found that only one was missing, Joe's
life seemed to return with a bound. Breaking from those who sought to
restrain him he ran down to the beach.
He knelt beside the drowned fisherman with a wild expression in his eyes
as he laid hold of something that partly covered the drowned man. It
was his own Bethel-flag which David Bright had twisted round his body!
Joe sprang up and clasped his hands as if to restrain them from violent
action.
"Oh, David!" he said, and stopped suddenly, while the wild look left his
eyes and something like a smile crossed his features. "Can it be true
that ye've gone so soon to the Better Land?"
The words gathered in force as they were uttered, and it was with a
great cry of grief that he shouted, "Oh, David, David! my brother!" and
fell back heavily on the sand.