The "Rescue" gallantly made her way amid the dark foam-crested seas,
which rolled in from the westward, each appearing heavier than its
predecessor.
Uncle Reuben kept gazing out ahead in anxious search of his little
vessel, now encouraging his crew with the hopes that they would soon
reach the spot which she must have reached, feeling his own heart,
however, sink within him as he sought in vain to find her across the
wildly tossing waters. The men needed no encouragement: they knew as
well as he did that every moment was precious, and yet that after all
they might arrive too late. Eban pulled as hard as the rest; he would
do his utmost to save the crew of the "Sea-Gull," yet he darkly hoped
that their efforts might be vain.
On they pulled; often Reuben had to turn the boat's head to breast a
threatening sea which, caught on the broadside, might have hurled her
over. Now again he urged his crew to redoubled efforts during a
temporary lull.
For some time he had been silent, keeping his eye on a dark spot ahead.
It must be the "Sea-Gull." She was already fearfully near the rocks.
The water there was too deep to allow her anchor to hold long, if
holding it was at all. Another fierce wave came rolling towards them.
Eager as Uncle Reuben was to make his way onward, he was compelled to
put the boat's head towards it, and to give all his attention to avoid
being buried beneath the foaming billows. The boat rose safely to its
summit. A glance seaward told him that now was the time once more to
make way to the south. He looked eagerly for his little vessel; the
same sea had struck her. He caught but one glimpse of her hull as she
was dashed helplessly against the rocks. Still some of those on board
might escape. Every effort must be made to save them. Though Reuben
told his crew what had happened, none hesitated to pull on.
The boat approached the rock, her crew shouted to encourage those who
might be clinging to it.
The "Sea-Gull" had struck on the northernmost point, within which the
sea, though surging and boiling, was comparatively quiet; and Reuben was
thus enabled to get nearer to the rock than he could have ventured to do
on the outside, where it broke with a fury which would quickly have
overwhelmed the boat.
Two men were distinguished through the gloom clinging to the rock, at
the foot of which fragments of the hapless "Sea-Gull" were tossing up
and down in the foaming waves. Another sea such as that which wrecked
their vessel might at any moment wash the men from their hold. A rope
was hove to them, they fastened it round their waists and were dragged
on board. They proved to be Reuben's two sons.
The father's heart was relieved, but he thought of his brave young
captain.
"Where is Michael, where are the rest?" he exclaimed.
"Gone, gone, father, I fear!" was the answer.
"No, no! I see two more clinging to a spar!" shouted one of the men.
"The sea is carrying it away, but the next will hurl it back on the
rocks, and Heaven protect them, for the life will be knocked out of
their bodies."
To approach the spot in the boat, however, was impossible without the
certainty of her being dashed to pieces.
"Here, hand the bight of the rope to me," shouted Eban, starting up; "I
am the best swimmer among you--if any one can save them I can."
As he uttered the words he sprang overboard, and with powerful strokes
made his way towards the drowning men, while the rest, pulling hard,
kept the boat off the rocks, to which she was perilously near.
"Here, here, take him, he is almost gone," said one of the men in the
water, as Eban approached them. "I can hold on longer."
Eban, grasping the man round the waist and shouting to those in the
boat, was hauled up to her stern with his burden. Reuben, assisted by
the man pulling the stroke oar, lifted the rescued man into the boat,
and Eban once more dashed off to try and save the other.
"Who is it? who is it?" asked the crew, with one voice, for the darkness
prevented them from distinguishing his countenance.
No one replied. Reuben hoped it might be Michael--but all his attention
was required for the management of the boat, and the rescued man,
exhausted, if not severely injured, was unable to reply himself.
Eban was gallantly striking out towards the man who still clung to the
spar, but he had miscalculated his strength--he made less rapid way than
at first. A cry reached him, "Help, mate! help!" He redoubled his
efforts; but before he could reach the spot he saw a hand raised up, and
as he grasped the spar he found that it was deserted. The brave fellow,
whoever he was, had sacrificed his own life to save that of his drowning
companion.
Eban, feeling that his own strength was going, shouted to those in the
boat to haul him on board, and he was himself well-nigh exhausted when
lifted over the side. One of Reuben's sons took his oar.
All further search for their missing friends proved in vain, and though
thankful that some had been saved, with sad hearts they commenced their
perilous return to the harbour.
Reuben's younger son, Simon Lanaherne, had gone aft and sat down by the
side of the rescued man.
"He is coming to, I believe."
"Which of the poor lads is he, Simon?" asked his father.
Simon felt the man's face and dress, bending his head down to try and
scan his features.
"I cannot quite make out; but I am nearly sure it is Michael Penguyne,"
answered Simon.
"I am main glad if it be he, for poor Nelly's sake," said Reuben. "Pull
up your starboard oars, lads, here comes a sea," he shouted, and a
tremendous wave came curling up from the westward.
The attention of every one was engaged in encountering the threatened
danger.
"Michael Penguyne! have I saved him?" muttered Eban Cowan, with a deep
groan. "He was destined to live through all dangers, then, and Nelly is
lost to me. Fool that I was to risk my life when I might have lot him
drown. No one could have said that I was guilty of his death."
Human ear did not listen to the words he uttered, and a voice came to
him, "You would have been guilty of his death if you could have saved
him and would not."
He had recovered sufficiently to sit up, and, as he gazed at the angry
sea around, his experienced eye told him that even now he and all with
him might be engulfed beneath it ere they could reach the shore.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nelly and her grandmother stood with the group of anxious watchers near
the beacon-fire, straining their eyes in a vain endeavour to pierce the
gloom which hung over the ocean. They could hear the sea's savage roar
as it lashed the rocks at their feet and sent the spray flying over
them; but they could only see the white crests of the waves as they rose
and fell, and every instant it seemed to their loving hearts that these
fierce waves came in with greater force than heretofore.
Could the "Rescue," stout and well-formed as she was, live amid that
fierce tumult of waters? Might not those who had bravely gone forth to
save their fellow-creatures, too probably perish with them?
Still, notwithstanding their fears, they listened hoping to hear the cry
which those in the boat would raise as they drew near the shore, should
success have attended their efforts. Again and again they asked each
other, if the boat would not now be returning? Oh! how long the time
seemed since they went away! A short half-hour had often sufficed to go
to the Gull Rock and back. An hour or more had elapsed since the
"Rescue" left the harbour, and no sign of her could be discerned.
"We must take into account the heavy seas she will have to meet; they
will keep her busy for a goodish time with her bows towards them,"
observed an old fisherman. "Uncle Reuben knows what he is about, and if
there is a man can steer the `Rescue' on a night like this he can. A
worse sea, in which a boat might live, I never saw. There is little
likelihood of its getting better either, by the look of the sky."
The last remark was not encouraging; still, while a possibility remained
of the return of the boat, none among the anxious group would, in spite
of the rain and spray and fierce wind, leave the point.
At length a sharp-eyed youngster darted forward to the extreme end of
the rock, at the risk of being washed off by the next breaker which
dashed against it.
"I see her! I see her!" he shouted.
There was a rush forward. Dame Lanreath held her granddaughter back.
"You cannot bring them in sooner, Nelly," she said, "and, my child,
prepare your heart for what God may have ordered. Seek for strength,
Nelly, to be able to say, `Thy will be done!'"
"I am trying," groaned Nelly; "but O granny, why do you say that?"
"It is better to be prepared for bad tidings before they come," answered
the dame; "but it maybe that God has willed that Michael should be
saved, and so let us be ready with a grateful heart to welcome him; but
whichever way it is, remember that it is for the best."
The dame herself, notwithstanding what she said, felt her own heart
depressed.
A simultaneous shout arose from the men and boys who had gone to the end
of the point.
"The boat! the boat! It is her, no doubt about it," they cried out, and
then most of them hurried away to the landing-place to welcome their
friends and assist them on shore.
The dame and Nelly followed them. Some still remained at the point,
knowing that there was yet another danger to be passed at the very
entrance of the harbour, for a cross sea breaking at its mouth might
hurl the boat, in spite of the efforts of the rowers, against the rocks,
and those who had toiled so long, worn out with fatigue, would require
assistance, for, unaided, their lives might be lost.
As the boat drew near her crew raised a shout in return to the greeting,
of their friends. Perfect silence followed as the "Rescue" neared the
dangerous point. In an instant it was passed, though a sea breaking
over her deluged the crew.
"Are they all saved?" shouted several voices.
"Some, but not all; but our boys are here: tell my dame," shouted Reuben
as the boat glided by.
Nelly heard the answer. With trembling knees she stood on the
landing-place supported by Dame Lanreath, while the light of several
lanterns fell on the boat and the figures of those in her as she came
alongside.
Eager hands were ready to help the well-nigh exhausted crew on shore.
Nelly tried to distinguish the countenances of the men--the light
falling on her pale face as she stooped over.
"He is here, Nelly; Michael is safe," cried Uncle Reuben, and Simon,
with two or three others, speedily assisted Michael on shore.
Nelly, regardless of those around, threw her arms round his neck, and
kissed his lips and cheeks, while the dame with others helped him to
move away from the quay.
"I shall soon be strong again, Nelly," he whispered. "God be praised
for His mercies to us. My sorest thought was, as I felt myself in the
breakers, that you and granny would be left without me to help you."
At the moment that Nelly's arms were about her betrothed, a man in the
boat, refusing the aid of others, sprang on shore. As he passed, Dame
Lanreath caught a glimpse of the haggard features of Eban Cowan. He
rushed on without stopping to receive the greetings of any of those
gathered on the quay, and was quickly lost to sight as he made his way
up the glen.
"Eban seems in a strange mood," observed Simon. "He might have stopped
till Michael and all of us had thanked him for his brave act; he seems
as if he was sorry he had done it, or was wishing that he was with the
other poor fellows who are lying out there among the rocks."
Michael was too weak to walk. Uncle Reuben invited him to come to his
cottage; but he wished to return home, and there was no lack of willing
arms to carry him.
"Where is David Treloar?" he asked. "If it had not been for him I
should have been washed off the spar, but he held me on till I was
hauled on board."
"David! poor fellow! he is among those who are gone," was the answer.
"If it was he who was on the spar with you, he would not, it seems, quit
it till he thought you were safe; and meantime his strength must have
gone before help could reach him."
"Then he lost his life to save mine," said Michael, deeply grieved.
"And how was I saved?"
"By that brave fellow, Eban Cowan, who jumped overboard, and brought you
on board," answered Uncle Reuben.
"Where is he, that I may shake him by the hand, and thank him?" inquired
Michael; but Eban was not to be found.
Michael hoped the next morning to be able to go to the mill and thank
Eban.
Nelly wondered at what she heard, recollecting Eban's visit to her a few
hours before; but she said nothing. Indeed, by that time, with a sail,
a litter had been rigged, on which his friends carried Michael to his
cottage, Dame Lanreath and Nelly following them.
The rest of the population of the village hastened to their homes,
several with hearts grieving for those who had been lost. They did not,
however, find any lack of friends to comfort them--for all could
sympathise where all knew that the like misfortune might some day happen
to themselves. Uncle Reuben, too, had ample cause for grief. The
little vessel on which he depended for the subsistence of his family had
gone to pieces, and it would be a hard matter to obtain another. And
honest David and the other lads in whom he was interested were gone; but
his young boys were saved, and he felt thankful for the mercies granted
him.
Michael, carefully watched over by Nelly, and doctored by the dame, soon
recovered his strength. As soon as he was strong enough, he told Nelly
that he must go and tell Eban how thankful he was to him for saving his
life.
Nelly, on this, gave him an account of what had occurred on that
eventful evening of the wreck. He was greatly astonished.
"But he is a brave fellow, Nelly; and though I cannot say what I should
have been ready to do to him had I known it before, yet he saved my
life, and risked his to do so, and I must not forget that. I must
forget all else, and go and thank him heartily."
"Go, Michael," said Nelly, "and tell him that I bless him from my heart,
and wish him every happiness; but do not ask him to come here. It is
better for his sake he should not be seeing me and fancying that I can
ever care for him."
Michael promised to behave discreetly in the matter, and set off.
The heavy gale was still blowing. He wondered as he went along how the
path was so much steeper and rougher than it used to be, not aware how
greatly his strength had decreased.
On reaching the mill he saw old Cowan standing at the door. He inquired
for Eban.
"Where is he? That's more than I can tell you, lad," he answered. "He
went away the other evening and has not since come back. I do not
inquire after his movements, and so I suppose it is all right."
Michael then told the old man of the service his son had rendered him.
"Glad he saved thy life, lad; he is a brave fellow, no doubt of that;
but it is strange that he should not have come in to have his clothes
dried and get some rest."
None of the household could give any further account of Eban.
Michael, again expressing such thanks as his heart prompted, returned
home.
Several days passed and rumours came that Eban had been seen on the way
to Falmouth: and his father, who had become anxious about him, setting
off, discovered that he had gone on board a large ship which had put in
there to seek shelter from the gale. He had left no message, and no
letter was received by any of his family to say why he had gone, or what
were his intentions for the future.
During the winter two or three seizures of smuggled goods were made;
they belonged to the band of which Eban was supposed to have been the
leader: and old Cowan, whose venture it was known they were, became
gradually downcast and desponding. His fishing-boats were unsuccessful;
he offered one for sale, which Uncle Reuben and Michael purchased
between them; another was lost; and, his mill being burned down, he died
soon afterwards broken-hearted, leaving his family in utter destitution.
In the spring Michael and Nelly married. The wedding, if not a very gay
one, was the merriest which had occurred in the village for many a day,
nor were any of the usual customs in that part of Cornwall omitted.
Dame Lanreath declared that she felt younger than she had been for the
last ten years, or twenty for that matter, and Uncle Reuben had
recovered from his rheumatism with the warm spring weather. The
pilchard harvest in that year was unusually early and abundant, and
Michael was able to increase the size of his house and improve its
appearance, while he gave his young wife many comforts, which he
declared no one so well deserved. No one disputed the point; indeed,
all agreed that a finer and happier young couple was not to be found
along the Cornish coast.
They were grateful to God for the happiness they enjoyed, and while they
prayed that it might be prolonged, and that their lives might be spared,
they did not forget that He Who had the power to give had the right to
take away. But, trusting to His mercy and loving-kindness, they hoped
that He would think fit to protect them during their lives on earth,
while they could with confidence look forward to that glorious future
where there will be no more sorrow and no more parting.