THE NICK OF TIME
On the return journey to St. Gaved Madeline lagged painfully behind. Her
strength was completely spent. She was as eager as any of the others to
know if the fishermen had rescued Rufus Sterne, but her limbs refused to
render obedience to her will. But for her intense desire to know the
fate of the man who had rescued her, she would have laid down on the
spongy turf, fearless of all consequences.
What her friends at the Hall might think of her absence had never once
occurred to her. The events of the afternoon had been so painful and
startling that all minor matters had been driven out of her mind. Hence
when the voice of Sir Charles sounded close to her ear she looked up
with a start of mingled inquiry, and surprise.
"Madeline, Madeline," he exclaimed. "What have you been doing with
yourself? We've been hunting all over the place for you."
"Oh, I am so sorry," she answered, wearily. "I'd forgotten all about
you. I've had such a--a--such a terrible adventure."
"Such a terrible adventure," he exclaimed, with a note of alarm in his
voice. "Has anyone dared----"
"No, no," she interrupted. "No one would molest me in these parts, but I
have come near losing my life," and she sank to the ground, feeling she
could not go a step further.
Sir Charles blew a policeman's whistle which he carried in his pocket,
and a few minutes later several of the Hall servants came running up.
"Miss Grover has met with an accident!" he explained. "One of you go and
fetch the brougham at once, and another run into St. Gaved and fetch the
doctor."
Madeline was too exhausted to protest. She was barely conscious where
she was or what had happened. The events of the afternoon seemed more
like a dream to her than a reality. She heard other voices speaking near
her, Beryl's among the rest, but she was too utterly exhausted to pay
any attention. She found herself lifted into a carriage at length, and
after that she remembered no more until she opened her eyes and
discovered that she was lying snug and warm in her own bed.
Meanwhile the little quay had become black with people waiting the
return of Sam Tregarrick's boat. Sam had been the first to grasp the
purport of Constable Greensplat's message, and without waiting to ask
questions or consult with his neighbours, he and his son Tom had bent to
their oars and pulled with all possible haste in the direction
indicated.
Rounding St. Gaved point they hugged the coast as closely as possible,
keeping a sharp look out all the time for any moving figure on the dark
line of rocks. The beach was completely under water by the time they had
rounded the point.
"It's us or nobody, father," Tom said to his father, as he gave to his
oar a swifter stroke.
"What do you mean by that, sonny?" Sam asked, staring hard at the coast
line.
"I mean that those who've gone over the downs will never be able to get
round Penwith Cove way in time."
"It looks like it, sartinly," Sam answered.
"Why the tide is two foot up the cliffs already," Tom protested. "And
Greensplat ain't the sort to wet his feet, if he knows it."
"Fortunately there ain't no sea running," the elder man remarked after a
pause. "So if he can drag hisself up the rocks a bit, he may come to
nothing worse than a bit of a fright."
"Rufus Sterne ain't the sort of chap they make cowards of," Tom replied,
doggedly. "And if he's got to drown he'll drown, and he won't make no
fuss 'bout it, nuther."
"Nobody wants to drown, sonny, afore his time," Sam answered, mildly.
"It's aisy enough to talk 'bout dying when you're safe and sound and out
of danger; but when you're face to face with it--well, a man is on'y a
man at best."
"I say nothing agin that, father," Tom answered; "but heaps of folks
squeal afore they're hurt, and send for the parson to pray with 'em
afore the doctor's had time to feel their pulse. But Rufus Sterne don't
belong to that class."
"I fear he wouldn't send for the parson in no case," Sam answered,
thoughtfully; "but do you see anything, sonny, just to the right of that
big rock?"
Tom slackened his oar for an instant; then he shouted at the top of his
voice, "Ahoy there! Ahoy!"
A moment later a white handkerchief was fluttered feebly for an instant,
and then allowed to drop.
"It's he sure 'nough," Tom said, excitedly; "but he's got to the far
end. If we don't pull like blazes, father, we shall be too late."
From that moment father and son wasted no more of their breath in talk.
They felt as though they were engaged in a neck to neck race with death.
The distance seemed no more than a stone's throw, and yet though they
pulled with might and main it appeared to grow no less. Tom was stroke,
and the elder man bravely kept time.
The wide Atlantic swell rocked them gently. Now the grey speck on the
face of the cliffs disappeared as they sank into a hollow, and now it
came into full view again as they rose on the gently heaving tide.
"Ahoy!" Tom called once or twice as they drew nearer, but there was no
response, and both men began to fear that they were too late. Moreover,
as they neared the cliffs they had to pick their way. Hidden rocks
showed their dark pinnacles for a moment in all directions.
There was no time, however, for excess of caution. If they were to
succeed they must be daring, even to the point of recklessness.
They could see Rufus now, reclining against a rock; he appeared to be
clutching it tightly with both hands. Now and then the swell of the tide
surged almost up to his neck.
"Pull like blazes, father," Tom shouted, excitedly, and they ran the
boat, defying all risks, close up to Rufus' side.
"Hold tight, mate," Tom called, encouragingly; "father and I'll do the
job, if you keep a steady nerve."
"I'll try," was the feeble response.
"Leave the getting him in to me, dad," Tom said, turning to his father.
"You keep on this side, or we shall capsize in two jiffeys."
The elder man obeyed. The boat drifted almost broadside on. Tom laid his
oar aside and watched his opportunity. It was clear enough that Rufus
had no strength left. Nevertheless his brain was clear still.
Tom explained the _modus operandi_ which he proposed, and Rufus smiled
approvingly. It was a ticklish operation, the boat was not large, and an
inch too near the rocks might prove the destruction of all.
At a signal from Tom, Rufus let go his hold of the rocks and reached out
his hands to his rescuer. The next moment he felt himself floating on
the tide. Sam, with his oar, pushed into deeper water, and then began
the delicate operation of getting a half drowned man, handicapped by a
broken leg, into the boat.
To Rufus it was torture beyond anything he had ever felt or imagined. He
felt so sick that he feared he would lose consciousness altogether; even
pain at that moment was better than oblivion. Now that life was in sight
again, the passion for existence seemed to burn with a stronger flame
than ever.
Tom dragged him over the side of the boat as tenderly as he was able. It
was a breathless moment for the two fishermen. The little craft came
within an ace of being capsized, and nothing but the skill of the older
man saved her from turning turtle. Rufus was too far gone to realise the
danger. The sickening torture was more than he could endure, and
unconsciousness mercifully intervened.
Father and son laid him in as easy a position in the bottom of the boat
as they knew how, then they took their oars again and pulled for home.
It was growing rapidly dark by this time, and a cool and grateful breeze
was sweeping across the wide expanse of sea.
They saw the little harbour black with people when they rounded the
point, accompanied by a dozen other boats that had come too late upon
the scene to be of any service.
A shout went up that could be heard at the far end of the village when
it became known that Rufus Sterne had been rescued alive, for though
many people regarded him as "a cut above his station," as they expressed
it, yet he was with the majority of the villagers exceedingly popular.
Besides, it had got to be known by this time that the accident which had
brought him into a position of such imminent peril had been caused by
trying to save the life of another.
In what that effort consisted was as yet by no means clear. But
sufficient had been told by the lady visitor at the Hall to leave no
doubt that it was through helping her he had met with his accident.
Hence, for the moment, Rufus was regarded in the light of a hero, and
some people went so far as to suggest that if there was such a thing as
gratitude in the world, Sir Charles Tregony would do something handsome
for him.
It was fortunate, perhaps, for Rufus that he heard none of the
irresponsible chatter that went on round him while he was being conveyed
from the quay to Mrs. Tuke's cottage. Momentary glimmers of
consciousness came back to him, but accompanied by such insufferable
torture, that his very brain seemed to stagger under the shock.
Dr. Pendarvis had just returned from a long round in the country, and
was listening to a more or less incoherent story told him by his wife,
when there came a violent ring at the surgery bell.
"You say that Chester has gone to the Hall to see Miss Grover?" the
Doctor questioned.
"That is as I understand it," his wife replied; "though I confess the
story is a bit complicated."
"In which way?"
"Well, late this afternoon Miss Grover rushed into the town considerably
dishevelled and in a state of breathless excitement, and told the first
man she saw, which happened to be Greensplat, that Rufus Sterne was
lying at the foot of the cliffs near Penwith Cove with a broken leg, and
that if he wasn't rescued quickly he would be drowned."
"And has he been rescued?"
"I don't know. But some considerable time after one of the Hall servants
came hurrying here for you, saying that you were wanted at once as Miss
Grover had met with an accident, and as you were not at home, of course,
Mr. Chester went."
"I don't see how the two things hang together," Dr. Pendarvis said, with
knitted brows.
"Neither do I," replied his wife; "but there goes the surgery bell
again."
Five minutes later Dr. Pendarvis was hurrying down the long main street
in the direction of Mrs. Tuke's cottage. He found Rufus in a state of
collapse, and with the broken limb so swollen that he made no attempt to
set the bone.
"We will have to get the swelling down first," he explained in his
old-fashioned way. "Meanwhile, we must make the patient as comfortable
as possible."
What he said to himself was, "This is a case for Chester. These young
men, with their hospital practice and their up-to-date methods, can make
rings round the ordinary G.P."
When he got back to his house he found his assistant waiting for him.
"So you have been to the Hall, I understand?" he questioned. "Nothing
serious, I hope?"
"Oh, no! an attack of nerves mainly. A few cuts and bruises, but they
are scarcely more than skin deep. She's evidently had a narrow squeak
though."
"Ah! I tried to get something out of Sterne, but he's in too much pain
to be very communicative."
"What was troubling Miss Grover most when I got there," Chester replied,
"was the fear that he had not been rescued."
"An attachment between them already?" the elder man queried, with a
twinkle in his eye.
"I don't think so," was the reply, "though naturally if a man saves a
woman's life she becomes interested in him."
"Unless he happens to be a doctor, eh?"
"Oh! well, doctors do not count," Chester said, with a laugh.
"Perhaps women have no faith in our ability to save life," Dr. Pendarvis
questioned.
"Oh, yes, I think they have," the younger man replied, slowly; "but then
you see, we do it professionally. There is no touch of romance about it,
and we are not supposed to take any risks."
"We take the fees instead," the older man laughed.
"When we can get them. But do you know in what relationship Miss Grover
stands to the Tregony family?"
"Not the ghost of an idea. Sir Charles is as close as an oyster on the
subject, and as far as I can make out, the girl is not in the habit of
talking about herself."
"She's distinctly American," Chester said, thoughtfully.
"And therefore piquant and interesting?"
"I prefer English girls myself; that is, in so far as girls interest me
at all."
"You think you are proof against their wiles?"
"I hope I am, though it is a matter on which one does not like to
boast."
"Better not," Pendarvis laughed, "better not. I've heard many men boast
in my time, and seen them go down like ninepins before the whirlwind of
a petticoat."
"It's a bit humiliating, don't you think?"
"It all depends on how you look at it. You see, we have to take human
nature as it is, and not how we would like it to be. It is just because
we are men that women triumph over us."
"Then you admit that they are our masters?"
"Not the least doubt of it. Of course, we keep up the pretence of being
the head and all that. But a woman who knows her business can twist a
man round her finger and thumb."
"I believe you, and for that reason I do not intend to get entangled in
the yoke of bondage."
"Be careful," the older man laughed. "There are bright eyes and pretty
frocks in an out-of-the-way place like St. Gaved. But let us get back to
something more practical. I want you to call round and see Sterne first
thing to-morrow morning."
"He has broken his leg, I suppose?"
"I fear it's a very bad fracture, and being tumbled about so much since
the accident has not tended to mend matters. I hope by to-morrow morning
the swelling will have subsided."
"It seems very unfortunate for him, for I understand he has some big
scheme on hand which he is labouring to complete."
"So it is said. But I have no faith in these big schemes. Young men
should keep to their legitimate work. It may be a mercy for him if his
scheme is knocked on the head." Saying which he bade his assistant
good-night and retired to his own room.