A COLD SWIM.
IT is winter. Christmas is close at hand, and promises to be a bitterly
cold one. The ice has formed smooth and black across the Serpentine, and
a number of people are walking along by its banks, looking forward to
some grand skating if the frost does but hold two days longer. The sky
is blue, and the sun shining brightly; the wind is fresh and keen; it is
just the day when people well-clad, well-fed, and in strong health, feel
their blood dancing more freely than usual through their veins, and
experience an unusual exhilaration of spirits. Merry laughter often
rises from the groups on the bank, and the air rings with the sharp
sound made by pieces of ice sent skimming by mischievous boys over the
glassy surface, to the disgust of skaters, who foresee future falls as
the result of these fragments should a slight thaw freeze them to the
surface.
Among those walking by the edge of the ice were Frank Norris and Fred
Barkley; with them was a bright-faced girl of some fourteen years old.
Alice Hardy was cousin to both the young fellows, and was a ward of
their uncle, Captain Bayley, an old and very wealthy retired officer of
the East India Company's Service. His fortune had not been acquired in
India, but had descended to him from his father, of whom he had been the
youngest son. His elder brothers had died off one by one, all unmarried
or childless, and soon after he obtained his commission he was recalled
home to take his place as the next heir to his father's estates; then he
had married.
Soon after he succeeded to the property his wife died, leaving him a
little girl, who was called Ella after her. Captain Bayley was hot and
passionate. His daughter grew up fiery and proud. Her father was
passionately fond of her; but just when she reached the age of twenty,
and had taken her place as one of the leading belles of Worcestershire,
she disappeared suddenly from the circle of her acquaintances. What had
happened no one ever knew. That there had been some terrible quarrel was
certain. It was understood that Captain Bayley wished no questions to be
asked. Her disappearance was a nine days' wonder in Worcestershire. Some
said she had turned Roman Catholic and gone into a convent; others that
she must have eloped, although with whom no one could guess. But at last
the subject died out, until two years later Captain Bayley and his
household appeared in mourning, and it was briefly announced that his
daughter was dead.
Captain Bayley went about as before, peppery, kind-hearted, perhaps a
little harder and more cynical than before, but a very popular personage
in Worcestershire. Those who knew him best thought him the most altered,
and said that although he appeared to bear the blow lightly he felt
deeply at heart the death of his daughter. His nearest heirs now were
his two nephews, Frank Norris and Barkley, sons of his married sisters.
Alice Hardy bore no relation to him. For some years speculation had
been rife as to which of his two nephews he would select as his heir.
Two years before this story begins Alice Hardy's father and mother had
both died of typhoid fever, leaving Captain Bayley as guardian to their
daughter. Somewhat to the surprise of his friends, the old officer not
only accepted the trust, but had Alice installed at his house, there to
be educated by a governess instead of being sent to school. But although
in a short time she came to be regarded as the daughter of the house, no
one thought that Captain Bayley would make her his heiress, as she had
inherited a considerable fortune from her father; and the two lads at
Westminster were still regarded as rivals for the heirship.
Captain Bayley had never been on good terms with either of his
brothers-in-law; both had been merchants in the city, and the old
officer considered that his sisters had made mesalliances in marrying
them. Frank's father and mother had died within a few months of each
other, when he was about twelve years old; Captain Bayley's house had
since been his home. Fred was often invited to stay with his uncle down
in Worcestershire, and his London house in Eaton Square was always open
to him. Frank had never counted on the probability of his uncle leaving
him any money. Certainly he never for a moment built castles in the air
founded upon the chance of the inheritance. His father had been an
easy-going and somewhat careless man, and would sometimes laugh with the
boy in speaking of his future and predicting what he would do if he were
come into old Bayley's estates. None of the Captain's intimates
could--had they been asked--have declared a preference for the chances
of either lad. Fred was certainly the cleverest. He had gone into
college head of his year, and would have been Captain, had not one of
those of the year before him, who had got into College under age,
elected to stay a year longer at school, and therefore by right became
Captain, while Fred had to be content with the honours of head monitor.
Frank, on the other hand, had failed to get into College at all, and had
remained a town boy.
Although it could not be said of Fred that in any open way he laid
himself out to gain his uncle's favour, he was yet decidedly more
attentive than was Frank, and would give up any other engagement he
might have if Captain Bayley invited him to stay the Saturday and Sunday
in Eaton Square, while Frank went carelessly his own way. And while
there was nothing in the smallest degree servile in Fred's manner--for
this indeed Captain Bayley would have instantly noticed and
resented--there was just that slight deference which a young fellow
should exhibit in conversation with an elder, while Frank, on the other
hand, carelessly expressed his own opinion and ideas, which often
differed very widely from those of the old officer.
Captain Bayley's own manner evinced no shade of partiality for one
nephew over the other; and although Alice had a sort of faint suspicion
that Frank, who was certainly her own favourite, was also that of her
uncle, she could have given no reason for her belief.
In person the cousins were remarkably dissimilar. Frank was two inches
the tallest, and had a still greater advantage in width. It was clear
that he would grow into a big man, but his figure was at present loose
and unformed; he had dark brown hair, with a slight wave, and would
hardly have been called good-looking, were it not for his open, fearless
expression and merry smile.
Fred's figure, although less strongly built, was far more formed, and it
was probable that years would effect but little change in it. There was
a sinew and wire in his frame which would have told an athlete of great
latent strength in the slight figure. His hair was light, his features
clear and sharply cut, and the face a decidedly intellectual one. His
manner was somewhat cold and restrained, but pleasant and courteous to
men older than himself; both young fellows carried themselves well, with
a certain ease of bearing, and that nameless air of command which
distinguish most young men who have passed through the upper forms of a
great public school.
Both lads had their circle of friends and admirers at school, but
Frank's was by far the largest. He was indeed universally popular, which
was far from being the case with his cousin. Upon the other hand, while
Frank seemed to be a sort of common property of the School, it was
somehow esteemed by those in Barkley's set a special distinction to be
admitted to his friendship.
But the party of three young people have been left long enough walking
by the edge of the Serpentine. Presently they saw a knot of people
gathered ahead; the number increased as others ran up.
"What's up, I wonder?" Frank said. "Look out there on the ice, Alice.
You see that hole; there is something moving--there's a dog's head, I
declare. Poor brute! it has run out after a stick, I suppose, and the
ice has given under it."
"Poor little thing!" Alice exclaimed pitifully, "can't it get out? Do
you think it will be drowned, Frank? Can nothing be done for it?"
"The best thing you can do, Alice," Fred replied, as Frank stood looking
at the dog, who tried several times, but in vain, to scramble out, the
ice each time breaking with its weight, "will be to turn and walk away;
there is no use standing here harrowing your feelings by watching that
poor little brute drown."
"Can nothing be done, Frank?" Alice again asked, paying no heed to
Fred's suggestion.
"That is just what I am thinking," Frank replied. "You stop here, Alice,
with Fred. I will go on and see what they are doing."
"Can't I go with you, Frank?"
"You had better stop here," Frank replied; "the crowd is getting thick
there, and they are a roughish lot. Besides, you will not be able to see
over their heads, and can do no good; so just do as I bid you."
The girl remained obediently with her cousin Fred, while Frank went off
at a run towards the group.
"Frank orders you about just as if you were his fag," Fred said, with a
smile which had in it something of a sneer.
"I don't mind," the girl said staunchly, "it's Frank's way, and I like
it;--at any rate one always knows what Frank means, and he always means
well."
"That is as much as to say, Alice, that you don't always understand what
I mean, and that I don't always mean well," Fred Barkley said in a quiet
tone, but with a little flush of anger in his usually somewhat pale
cheeks.
"No, I don't know that I mean that," Alice said carelessly; "but I do
not always understand what you mean, though I always understand what you
say."
"I should have thought that was the same thing," Fred replied.
"Should you?" Alice rejoined. "Well I shouldn't, that's all."
As Frank Norris approached the group he began to unbutton his collar and
waistcoat.
"It will be a beastly cold swim," he grumbled to himself, "but I can't
see the poor little brute drowned, and drowned he certainly will be if
no one goes in for him. It's no distance to swim, and I should think one
could wade to within twenty yards of him; but it certainly will be
horribly cold." And he gave a shiver of anticipation as he looked at the
smooth frozen surface.
With some little difficulty Frank pushed his way through to the centre
of the group by the water's side. A little girl, poorly dressed, was
standing crying bitterly; a cripple boy in a box upon wheels was trying
to pacify her, while another who had taken off his coat and waistcoat,
and laid them in the lap of the cripple, was unlacing his boots.
"Are you going in, young un?" Frank said, as he joined them.
"Yes, sir; I am going in for Flossy. She belongs to this little girl,
who is one of our neighbours."
"Can you swim well?" Frank asked, "for the water will be bitterly cold."
"Yes," the boy answered confidently, "I goes regularly for a swim above
Vauxhall Bridge in the summer, and keeps on until the water gets too
cold. I can do that fast enough. I suppose the ice will break right
enough," and he looked up inquiringly at Frank.
"Yes, it will break with your weight easily enough; you will have to
raise yourself a little so as to break it before you. You will have to
put some weight on, for it is nearly half an inch thick; I expect there
is a thin place where the dog has fallen in--a spring underneath, most
likely, so a mere skin has formed.
"Look here, young un, I was going in if you hadn't. I shall get my boots
ready to kick off now, so don't you be frightened if you get numbed with
the cold, or a touch of cramp; just sing out and I will be with you in a
minute."
The cripple looked with pleasure up into Frank's face.
"It is very good of you, sir, for you don't know the dog as Evan does.
Ah! I know your face, sir," he broke off, "I saw you in the fight down
by our place at Westminster, when Evan ran up and fetched some more of
your chaps--and just in time they were too."
"Oh! was it your brother who brought that news?" Frank said quickly;
"then I owe him one, and if I go in to fetch him out we shall be only
quits."
Evan had by this time entered the water, breaking the ice before him as
he went.
"My eye, ain't it cold!" he said, half-turning round, "seems to nip
one's legs up regular. All right, Flossy," he shouted to the dog, as he
continued his way out, in answer to a pitiful whine of the struggling
animal.
[Illustration: THE RESCUE FROM THE SERPENTINE.]
For the first few paces Evan's progress was easy enough; but when he got
so deep that he could no longer break the ice with his foot his
difficulties began, and it was only by flinging himself down upon it
that he was able to break it. A few yards further on the water was up
to his chin. He was now breaking the ice by trying to climb upon it.
Frank was watching him closely, and noticed that he no longer proceeded
about his work deliberately, but with a hurried and jerky action, as if
he felt his strength failing him. Frank pulled off his coat and
waistcoat, and handed them to the cripple, kicked off his boots, and
stood in readiness to plunge in.
The crowd had at first cheered the lad as he made his way from the
shore; some still uttered shouts of encouragement, others saw that he
was getting exhausted, and called to him to return. Suddenly the boy
seemed to lose his power altogether, held on to the edge of the ice, and
cast a despairing look towards the shore. Then gradually his head
disappeared under the water; but Frank was already half-way towards him.
A few strides had taken him through the shallow water, and he swam with
vigorous strokes through the floating fragments to the end of the line
of broken water; then he too disappeared for a moment. A dead silence
reigned through the crowd; but when two heads appeared above the water
together, a ringing cheer broke out. Carrying his senseless companion,
Frank swam back to shore.
"Take off his wet clothes," he said, as he handed his burden to some of
the men. "Wrap him up in my coat and his own, and then run with him up
to the Humane Society's House, they will bring him round in no time; it
is cold, not drowning."
Then he looked again across the water. The little dog was swimming
feebly now, its nose scarcely above the surface. It had given a
plaintive cry of despair as it saw those who had approached so near turn
back, for there were but some five yards between the spot where the
boy's strength had failed and the circle which it had broken in its
efforts to climb out.
"I can't be colder than I am," Frank said to himself, "so here goes."
Accordingly he again dashed into the water and swam to the end of the
narrow passage; a few vigorous strokes broke the intervening barrier of
ice. He seized the little dog, put it on the ice, and with a push sent
it sliding towards the shore, and then turned and swam back again.
It was only just where the dog had fallen in that the ice was too weak
to bear its weight, and, after lying for two or three minutes utterly
exhausted, it scrambled to its feet and made its way to the bank, where
it was soon wrapped in the apron of its delighted mistress.
Frank, on reaching the shore, was scarcely able to stand, so benumbed
were his legs by the cold. His cousins had made their way through the
crowd to the spot.
"O Frank," Alice exclaimed, "what a mad thing for you to do. Oh! I am so
pleased you did it--but oh, you do look cold! What will you do?"
"I am all right, Alice," Frank said, as cheerfully as his chattering
teeth would allow him to speak. "You go home with Fred; I shall get a
hot bath and have my clothes dried at the receiving-house, and shall be
as right as a trivet in half an hour. There, good-bye!"
Frank walked stiffly at first, but was presently able to break into a
run, which he kept up until he reached the establishment of the Royal
Humane Society. His first question, as he entered, was for the boy.
"He will do, sir," the attendant answered, "we popped him at once into
a hot bath we had ready, and he has opened his eyes, and is able to
speak; we have just got him into bed between warm blankets, and now it's
your turn."
In another minute Frank was in the bath from which the boy had just been
taken, for there was no time to prepare another. For the first minute or
two he felt an intense pain as the blood flowed back into his chilled
limbs, then a delightful sensation of warmth and comfort stole over him;
a glass of hot brandy and water completed his cure, and a few minutes
later he felt that he was fast going off to sleep in the warm blankets
between which he was laid.
Before the crowd whom the incident on the Serpentine had gathered broke
up, one or two of those present went among the rest and collected a
subscription for the lad who had gone in after the dog. Nearly two
pounds were collected in silver and coppers, and handed over to the
cripple to give to his brother. Fred Barkley dropped in five shillings,
and Alice Hardy the same sum. Then after walking to the receiving-house,
and hearing that Frank and the lad had both recovered from the effects
of the cold, and would probably be all right after a few hours' sleep,
they returned home, Alice in a high state of excitement over the
adventure which she had witnessed, Fred silent and gloomy.
He accompanied Alice to Eaton Square, and was present when she related
to her uncle the story of the lad going in to rescue the dog, and of
Frank going in to rescue the boy, and of his afterwards returning to set
free the dog. Upon the way home he had appeared to Alice to take the
matter exceedingly quietly, but he now, somewhat to her surprise,
appeared almost as enthusiastic as herself, and spoke in terms of high
admiration of Frank's conduct. Captain Bayley, as was usually the case
with him, took a view of the matter entirely opposed to that of the
speakers.
"Stuff and nonsense!" he said. "You call that a gallant action? I call
it a foolish boy's trick. What right has Frank to risk getting rheumatic
fever, and being laid up as a cripple for life, merely to save a dog?"
"But he went in to save a boy, uncle," Alice said indignantly.
"Pooh, pooh!" the old officer exclaimed, "the boy would never have gone
in if he hadn't encouraged him. That makes the case all the worse. Frank
not only risking catching rheumatism himself, but he risked the life of
that boy by encouraging him to do such a foolish action. It was a
hair-brained business altogether, sir; and I am glad you had the wisdom,
Fred, to keep out of it. The idea of two lives being risked to save that
of a wretched cur is too absurd; if you had offered the girl who owned
it five shillings to buy another it would have been more sensible."
"I don't believe you mean what you say a bit, Uncle Harry," Alice
exclaimed indignantly. "I believe if you had been there, and had heard
that poor little dog's cries as we did, you would have gone in yourself.
I am sure I would if I had been a man."
"I always observe, my dear," Captain Bayley said sarcastically, "that
women would do wonderful things if they had only been born men. Nature
appears to be always making mistakes by putting the dauntless and heroic
spirits into female bodies, and _vice versa_."
"I don't like you when you talk like that, Uncle Harry--that is, I
shouldn't like you if I thought you meant it; but you only talk so out
of contradiction. If I had said I thought Frank was very foolish for
having gone into the water, you would have taken the opposite side
directly."
"You are an impudent puss, Miss Alice," her uncle retorted, "and I shall
have to tell Miss Lancaster that unless she can keep you in better order
I shall have to send you to school. You appear to have been born without
the bump of veneration."
"I would venerate you ever so much, Uncle Harry," the girl replied,
laughing, "if you would always be good and reasonable; but I cannot
venerate you when you are contrary and disagreeable, and say things you
don't mean."
As Fred Barkley walked home, he wondered again and again to himself
whether Captain Bayley had meant what he said, and whether this act of
Frank's would raise him in his opinion or the contrary; but he flattered
himself that, at any rate, no harm had been done, for his own advocacy
of his cousin could not but have placed him in the most favourable
light.
Fred Barkley was shrewd, but his power of reading character was, as yet,
by no means perfect, and his uncle's changing moods baffled the power of
analysis. He would not have been pleased had he known that at that very
moment the old officer was walking up and down his library, muttering to
himself, "I would give a good deal if there were a glass window at that
boy Fred's heart, that I could see what it is really made of. His head
is strong enough; nature has given him a fair share of brains, but,
unless I am greatly mistaken, there is a very grievous deficiency in his
allowance of heart.
"I don't believe the boy ever spoke spontaneously from the time he
learned to talk, but that every word he says is weighed before it passes
through his lips, and its effect calculated; whereas Frank never thinks
at all, but just blurts out the words which come to hand. It is curious
how much more Alice takes to him than to Fred, for he bullies her and
orders her about as if she were one of his fags, while Fred is as
courteous and polite to her as if she were a young Countess. I suppose
it is instinct, for children's opinions about people are seldom far
wrong. I thought when I brought Alice here that she would help me to
settle the problem."
Frank and Evan Holl woke at about the same time, after sleeping for some
hours; their clothes had been dried for them, and they at once began to
dress.
"How do you feel now, young un?" was Frank's first inquiry as they sat
up in their beds.
"I dunno how I feels," Evan replied. "I hardly knows where I am, or how
I got here, though I do seem to remember something about this 'ere place
too. Oh yes!" he exclaimed suddenly, "I was trying to fetch out poor
little Flossy, and the ice would not break, and I got colder and colder,
and then I don't seem to remember any more except somehow that I was
here with people standing round me, and I swallowed something hot and
went off to sleep. Ah yes! you were the gentleman as said you would come
in after me if I sang out."
"And I did come in," Frank said smilingly, "and only just in time I was,
for you did not sing out, but went right down without a word. It was
lucky you did not get under the ice."
"And Flossy," the boy said suddenly, "did she go down too?"
"No," Frank answered, "I went in again and got her out, after I had
brought you back to shore."
"Well, you are a brick!" the boy said, "a regular downright un, and no
mistake. I wonder how Harry got back; it would be a job for him to wheel
hisself all the way back to Westminster."
"Oh, I expect he got some one to help him," Frank said; "and the little
girl would be able to help shove him along."
"Yes, she would," Evan replied, "she can shove him by herself along a
pavement, and I expect that he and she atween them would be able to get
along. Lor! how them things of yours have shrunk, to be sure."
"They have, a bit," Frank said, looking down at his trousers, which were
half-way up to his knees; "but it don't matter much, it's getting dark
now, and I can take a cab when I get out of the Park. Your clothes don't
seem to have suffered so much, they seem plenty large enough for you
now."
"Yes," Evan said, with a satisfied air, "and a good job too; mother
always will have my clothes so big, cos of my growing. She always seems
to think one will grow sudden into a man afore one's things wear out."
Frank and the lad walked together as far as Albert Gate; here they
separated, Frank taking a cab home, while Evan, whistling a popular air
in a high key, took his way to Westminster. On arriving home he was
greeted with enthusiasm by Harry, but Mrs. Holl was not inclined to view
his adventure favourably.
"It's all very well to care for dogs, Evan, and I ain't a-saying as
Carrie Hill's dog ain't a nice little critter; but when it comes to
getting into the freezing water arter it, I don't hold to it no way.
Then you might have gone and got drowned--and you would have got drowned
too, Harry tells me, if that young gent hadn't been and gone after you;
and then this blessed minute I should have been breaking my heart about
you, and you down underneath the ice in the bottom of the Serpentine.
There ain't no reason in it, my boy. Harry here thinks different about
it, and will have it that I ought to be proud of yer; but he ain't a
mother, and so can't understand a mother's feelings--and your clothes
pretty nigh spoilt too, I'll be bound."
"Well, mother, if they are," Harry said cheerfully, "Evan can buy some
more. Here, Evan; here are thirty-eight shillings and ninepence
halfpenny, and it's all your own."
"Crikey!" Evan gasped, looking in astonishment at the pile of money in
Harry's lap. "Why, where did all that 'ere money come from?"
"That was collected in the crowd, Evan, after you were carried away, and
they gave it to me to give to you. I did not quite like your taking
money for doing such a thing, but of course as it was given for you I
had nothing to say to it."
Evan burst into a wild dance expressive of delight. He had none of his
brother's scruples in respect to the money.
"My eye!" he exclaimed at last, "thirty-eight bob and some coppers to do
just as I likes with. I am a rich man, I am; I shall have to get some
'igh collars and come the swell. I suppose it won't run to a carriage
and pair, mother, or to a welvet gownd for you,--that would be
splendatious. Just fancy, mother, a gownd all over welvet, and just the
same colour as the sodgers' coats. My eye! won't that be grand?"
"And a nice sight I should look in it," Mrs. Holl said, laughing at the
thought of herself in scarlet robes. "When dad comes home we will talk
over with him what's the best way of laying out this money. It's yours
to do as you likes with, but I ain't a-going to have it fooled away, so
don't you make any mistake about that."
[Illustration]