A KISS THAT MIGHT HAVE LINGERED ON HIS LIPS WHILE SEEKING ENTRANCE AT
THE GATE OF HEAVEN.
At the foot of the cliff whereon Mrs. Joe had erected a monument to the
Great Serpent in the form of a castle, the ocean beats in calm weather
with a sullen persistence which increases with the rising wind from
spiteful lashing into furious pounding against the unshaken crag,
accompanied by a roar of futile rage. Stormpoint affords no nook of
shelter for a distressed craft, and the rocks, submerged beneath the
vexed waters, render the coast hereabout even more dangerous than does
the sheer wall of stone which appals the mariner caught in the storm and
driven shoreward. Once around the point, the little harbor of
Easthampton offers safety, but it has happened that vessels, unable to
weather Stormpoint, have been dashed against the rocks and human beings
have been tossed about in the seething foam beneath the crags; or men
have clung to wreckage in sight of wailing wives and mothers, and of
children to be orphaned in the rush of the next black billow.
From the rocks hereabout no lifeboat can be launched at times when
lifeboats are needed, therefore the coast-guard station is nearer the
harbor, where there is a beach upon which the waves slide upward,
spending their strength, and where even in the storm they can be ridden
by resolute men; but no boat can live among the rocks in the raging
waters beneath the cliff. And so, Mrs. Joe, with the approval of the
authorities, had built on the ledge of the cliffside (enlarged and
widened for the purpose) a house, in which were kept appliances for
casting lines athwart wrecked craft. There were plenty to ridicule the
benevolent lady, some on the score of the futility of preparing for an
improbable disaster (less than a dozen ships had been lost there in a
century; and probably not, in all that time, a hundred lives); others
because while yet another ship might be driven thither, no human effort
could then avert her doom. Mrs. Joe, notwithstanding these arguments,
carried out her intention, and waited, hoping that she would never be
justified by the event.
One day Natalie and Leonard were in the "wreck house," as the structure
had come to be called; a high wind, constantly increasing, was blowing,
and from their position they saw all the grandeur of the ocean, rolling
in majesty toward the wall of rock, an assailing mass, seeming inspired
with malevolent intelligence and boundless strength, but, caught by the
sunken rocks, the onset would be broken, and, bellowing with rage, each
mighty billow would recede, only to be followed by another, as angry and
as awful of aspect as the last.
It was a sight before which human passion was cowed and human pride was
humbled. As Leonard watched Natalie, silently contemplating the grandeur
of the scene, her dark hair blowing back from the smooth white brow,
beneath which eyes, as unfathomable as the ocean itself, looked
yearningly out into the storm, he had a clear perception that the
emotions he had harbored and nourished as to this woman were unworthy of
the soul in her fathomless eyes. In the presence of nature, feebly
stirred as yet, but with a promise of the mighty strength restrained,
and perhaps, too, his nobler self responding unconsciously to the purity
of the woman at his side, the grosser passion that had vexed him was
subdued; desire for the woman was lost in desire to share the woman's
heart.
The darkening heavens sinking into the gloom of the ocean, where in the
distance the rolling masses of cloud and water seemed to meet, the
roaring wind, the waves booming on the cliff, and the boiling cauldron
of death beneath their feet--in the presence of these things words could
not utter thoughts unutterable; they stood long silent.
"Who, then, is this, that He commandeth even the winds and the water,
and they obey Him?" Leonard heard her murmur these words.
"Who, indeed?" he said. "How can man deny God in the face of this?"
"In the face of anything?"
"Or deny His Revelation? Natalie, it is true."
"Is it true?"
"As true as the waters or the sky--Natalie, Natalie, it is true."
His tone trembled with a tenderness deeper than the tenderness of
passion. She looked and saw his eyes with a sheen of tears upon them; no
gleam of earthly desire looked out of them, but the yearning for a soul.
In the presence of the Majesty of God the nobler spirit had awakened and
answered to the longing of the girl to know the secret of the waves, the
rocks, the skies; the secret of herself and of the man beside her--the
eternal truth, hidden always, yet always half revealed to questioning
man.
"Religion is very dear to you, Leonard?"
"Dearer than all but God Himself. Dearer than riches, honors--dearer,
Natalie, than the love I bear for you."
It was said without the usual intent of lover's vows, and so she
understood it. She made no answer.
And then they saw a sight which made them forget all else--a
fellow-creature, driving helplessly to destruction beneath their feet.
It was a lad, ignorant, it would seem, of the management of the frail
vessel in which he was the sole passenger. Even in the hands of an
experienced sailor the little boat, intended for smooth water only,
would have been unsafe; now, unskilfully fitted with a mast and sail,
managed by ignorant hands, and driven toward a coast that had no
shelter, the storm rising each moment, the outlook was desperate for the
voyager.
Leonard seized a trumpet from the appliances with which the wreck-house
was furnished, and leaning far out of the window, bawled in stentorian
tones, some order, which, whether heard by the boy or not, was unheeded.
Indeed, the desperate situation seemed to have paralyzed him; he clung
to the tiller with the proverbial clutch of the drowning man, utterly
incapable of other action, if indeed other action could prevail.
Seizing a line, Leonard ran down the stairway to a platform built
against the cliff and not many feet above the water. Natalie followed.
The wind was rising every moment, the tide running higher with each
succeeding wave, and now, as she noticed, even reaching the platform.
Leonard noticed, too. "It is not safe here," he shouted to her, for the
wind howled in their ears and the noise of the surge emulated the noise
of the wind. At the same time he pointed to the stairway, signifying
that she should return, but took no further heed of her. His one thought
was to do the thing that would save the life in peril. She did not know
what he was about to do, but watched him, ready to lend assistance,
though without taking her eyes from the boy in the boat. Thus far it had
escaped the sunken rocks, but it could not long escape the shore. The
wind had blown the sail from its fastenings and it tossed upon the
waves. Only the whirlpool formed by the sunken rocks and the sullenly
receding waters, which had but a moment before been hurled against the
cliff, stayed the wreck of the craft. It needed no experienced eye to
recognize the imminence of the peril of the boy, and the sight of the
solitary being, helpless and exposed to the rude mercy of the waves, was
pitiful. Natalie wrung her hands and prayed in French, and while the
infidel prayed the clergyman acted.
He had intended to cast the weighted end of the line across the boat and
so give its passenger communication with the shore; even so, the case of
the lad would have been but slightly bettered, since, though fast to the
rope, to avoid being dashed against the rocks would be barely possible;
but Leonard, almost in the act of throwing, saw that his intention was
impracticable. He must wait until the boat had come a little nearer.
Natalie, with alarm that was almost horror, saw him remove his coat and
boots; she would have remonstrated, but she felt that remonstrance was
useless. He stood a waiting hero, his whole being absorbed in the task
before him. That task involved his plunging into the boiling surf, the
very abyss of death. Who can say that some premonition of the future was
not upon him, as, with uplifted head and watching eyes, he stood
statue-like awaiting the supreme moment? Who knows but he was warned
that better for him the whirlpool below than the woman at his side!
Keenly watching the boat, his hands had still been busy, and from the
line he had fashioned a loop, which now he fitted over his head and
beneath his armpits. The other end of the line he secured to a ring in
the platform, and then, having said nothing to Natalie, but now taking
her hand in his own, and holding it tightly, he waited.
Not long. As in a flash she saw the boat in fragments, the boy in the
water, and in the same instant Leonard plunged in.
She seized the line, but let it have play. Leonard had reached the boy
in one stroke, had him in his very grasp, when a huge receding wave tore
them asunder, and both were lost to Natalie.
She pulled with all her strength. She knew that the boy was drowned and
had no hope for Leonard; her hold of the rope aided in his rescue, as
she was able to prevent his being carried away; but had it not been that
the next wave swept him upon the platform, where he was instantly seized
and dragged far backward by Natalie, who herself barely escaped being
swept off, he must have been either drowned or dashed dead against the
rocks.
For some minutes she believed him drowned. She had dragged him to a
place of comparative safety and he lay quite still with his head in her
lap. But after awhile he sighed and looked into her eyes, and at last
sat up. "The boy?" he said.
"Gone," she sobbed.
After some moments he arose, and feebly enough, assisted her to rise,
and they sat upon the stairway, and after awhile got into the
wreck-house. Here Leonard knew where to find restoratives, as well as a
huge blanket, in which he wrapped himself and Natalie.
And so they sat side by side, enveloped in one covering, both quite
silent, until he said: "Natalie, I have been praying."
"Teach me, Leonard."
"While I live," he answered, and he turned his face and kissed her.
It was the second time that he had kissed woman, but this was a kiss
that might have lingered on his lips while seeking entrance at the gate
of heaven.