On the coast of Angleshire the weather in the early days of September had
been stormy. With the south-west wind had come deluges of rain, not a
common thing for the time of year on the east coast. Stephen, whose
spirits always rose with high wind, was in a condition of prolonged
excitement. She could not keep still; every day she rode long distances,
and found a wonderful satisfaction in facing the strong winds. Like a
true horsewoman she did not mind the wet, and had glorious gallops over
the grassy ridge and down the slopes on the farther side, out on the open
road or through the endless grass rides amid the pine woods.
On the Tuesday morning the storm was in full sweep, and Stephen was in
wild spirits. Nothing would do her but to go out on the tower of the
castle where she could walk about, and leaning on the crenellated parapet
look over all the coast stretching far in front and sweeping away to the
left and right. The prospect so enchanted her, and the fierce sweep of
the wind so suited her exalted mood, that she remained there all the
morning. The whole coast was a mass of leaping foam and flying spray,
and far away to the horizon white-topped waves rolled endlessly. That
day she did not even ride out, but contented herself with watching the
sea and the storm from the tower. After lunch she went to her tower
again; and again after tea. The storm was now furious. She made up her
mind that after dinner she would ride down and see its happenings close
at hand.
When she had finished dinner she went to her room to dress for her ride.
The rush and roar of the storm were in her ears, and she was in wild
tumultuous spirits. All her youth seemed to sweep back on her; or
perhaps it was that the sickness of the last two years was swept away.
Somewhere deep down in Stephen's heart, below her intention or even her
consciousness, was a desire to be her old self if only for an hour. And
to this end externals were of help. Without weighing the matter in her
mind, and acting entirely on impulse, she told her maid to get the red
habit she had not worn for years. When she was dressed she sent round to
have out her white Arab; while it was getting ready she went once more to
the tower to see the storm-effect in the darkening twilight. As she
looked, her heart for an instant stood still. Half-way to the horizon a
great ship, ablaze in the bows, was driving through the waves with all
her speed. She was heading towards the little port, beyond which the
shallows sent up a moving wall of white spray.
Stephen tore down the turret stair, and gave hurried directions to have
beds prepared in a number of rooms, fires everywhere, and plenty of
provisions. She also ordered that carriages should be sent at once to
the fishing port with clothing and restoratives. There would, she felt,
be need for such help before a time to be measured by minutes should have
passed; and as some of her servants were as yet strange to her ways she
did not leave anything to chance. One carriage was to go for the doctor
who lived at Lannoy, the village over the hill, whence nothing could be
seen of what was happening. She knew that others within sight or hailing
would be already on their way. Work was afoot, and had she time, or
thought of it, she would have chosen a more sedate garb. But in the
excitement no thought of herself came to her.
In a few seconds she was in the saddle, tearing at full speed down the
road that led to the port. The wind was blowing so strongly in her face
that only in the lulls could she hear the hoof-strokes of the groom's
horse galloping behind her.
At first the height of the road allowed her to see the ship and the port
towards which she was making. But presently the road dipped, and the
curving of the hill shut both from her sight; it was only when she came
close that she could see either again.
Now the great ship was close at hand. The flames had gained terribly,
and it was a race for life or death. There was no time do more than run
her aground if life was to be saved at all. The captain, who in the gaps
of the smoke could be seen upon the bridge, knew his work well. As he
came near the shoal he ran a little north, and then turned sharply so as
to throw the boat's head to the south of the shoal. Thus the wind would
drive fire and smoke forward and leave the after part of the vessel free
for a time.
The shock of her striking the sand was terrific, though the tinkle of the
bell borne in on the gale showed that the engines had been slowed down.
The funnels were shaken down, and the masts broke off, falling forward. A
wild shriek from a hundred throats cleft the roaring of wind and wave.
The mast fell, the foremast, with all its cumbering top-hamper on the
bridge, which was in an instant blotted out of existence, together with
the little band of gallant men who stood on it, true to their last duty.
As the wind took the smoke south a man was seen to climb on the wreck of
the mast aft and make fast the end of a great coil of rope which he
carried. He was a huge man with a full dark beard. Two sailors working
with furious haste helped him with the rope. The waves kept raising the
ship a little, each time bumping her on the sand with a shock. The
people on deck held frantically to the wreckage around them.
Then the bearded man, stripping to his waist and cutting off his trousers
above the knee, fastened an end of the rope round his waist. The sailors
stood ready one behind the other to pay it out. As a great wave rolled
under the ship, he threw himself into the sea.
In the meantime the coastguard had fixed Board of Trade rocket-apparatus,
and in a few seconds the prolonged roar of a rocket was heard. It flew
straight towards the ship, rising at a high angle so as to fall beyond
it. But the force of the wind took it up as it rose, and the gale
increased so that it rose nearly vertically; and in this position the
wind threw it south of its objective, and short of it. Another rocket
was got ready at once, and blue lights were burned so that the course of
the venturous swimmer might be noted. He swam strongly; but the great
weight of the rope behind kept pulling him back, and the southern trend
of the tide current and the force of the wind kept dragging him from the
pier. Within the bar the waves were much less than without; but they
were still so unruly that no boat in the harbour--which was not a
lifeboat station--could venture out. Indeed, in the teeth of the storm
it would have been a physical impossibility to have driven one seaward.
As the gathered crowd saw Stephen approach they made way for her. She
had left her horse with the groom, and despite the drenching spray fought
a way against the wind out on the pier. As in the glare of the blue
light, which brought many things into harsh unnatural perspective, she
caught sight of the set face of the swimmer rising and falling with the
waves, her heart leaped. This was indeed a man! a brave man; and all the
woman in her went out to him. For him, and to aid him and his work, she
would have given everything, done anything; and in her heart, which beat
in an ecstasy of anxiety, she prayed with that desperate conviction of
hope which comes in such moments of exaltation.
But it soon became apparent that no landing could be effected. The force
of the current and the wind were taking the man too far southward for him
ever to win a way back. Then one of coastguards took the lead-topped
cane which they use for throwing practice, and, after carefully coiling
the line attached it so that it would run free, managed with a desperate
effort to fling it far out. The swimmer, to whom it fell close, fought
towards it frantically; and as the cord began to run through the water,
managed to grasp it. A wild cheer rose from the shore and the ship. A
stout line was fastened to the shore end of the cord, and the swimmer
drew it out to him. He bent it on the rope which trailed behind him;
then, seeing that he was himself a drag on it, with the knife which he
drew from the sheath at the back of his waist, he cut himself free. One
of the coastguards on the pier, helped by a host of willing hands, began
drawing the end of the rope on shore. The swimmer still held the line
thrown to him, and several men on the pier began to draw on it. Unhappily
the thin cord broke under the strain, and within a few seconds the
swimmer had drifted out of possible help. Seeing that only wild rocks
lay south of the sea-wall, and that on them seas beat furiously, he
turned and made out for sea. In the light beyond the glare he could see
vaguely the shore bending away to the west in a deep curve of unbroken
white leaping foam. There was no hope of landing there. To the south
was the headland, perhaps two miles away as the crow flies. Here was the
only chance for him. If he could round the headland, he might find
shelter beyond; or somewhere along the farther shore some opening might
present itself. Whilst the light from the blue fires still reached him
he turned and made for the headland.
In the meantime on ship and on shore men worked desperately. Before long
the end of the hawser was carried round on the high cliff, and pulled as
taut as the force at hand could manage, and made fast. Soon endless
ropes were bringing in passengers and crew as fast as place could be
found for them. It became simply a race for time. If the fire, working
against the wind, did not reach the hawser, and if the ship lasted the
furious bumping on the sandbank, which threatened to shake her to pieces
each moment, all on board might yet be saved.
Stephen's concern was now for the swimmer alone. Such a gallant soul
should not perish without help, if help could be on this side of heaven.
She asked the harbour-master, an old fisherman who knew every inch of the
coast for miles, if anything could be done. He shook his head sadly as
he answered:
'I fear no, my lady. The lifeboat from Granport is up north, no boat
from here could get outside the harbour. There's never a spot in the bay
where he could land, even in a less troubled sea than this. Wi' the wind
ashore, there's no hope for ship or man here that cannot round the point.
And a stranger is no like to do that.'
'Why not?' she asked breathlessly.
'Because, my lady, there's a wheen o' sunken rocks beyond the Head. No
one that didn't know would ever think to keep out beyond them, for the
cliff itself goes down sheer. He's a gallant soul yon; an' it's a sore
pity he's goin' to his death. But it must be! God can save him if He
wishes; but I fear none other!'
Even as he spoke rose to Stephen's mind a memory of an old churchyard
with great trees and the scent of many flowers, and a child's voice that
sounded harsh through the monotonous hum of bees:
'To be God, and able to do things!'
Oh; to be God, if but an hour; and able to do things! To do anything to
help a brave man! A wild prayer surged up in the girl's heart:
'Oh! God, give me this man's life! Give it to me to atone for the other
I destroyed! Let me but help him, and do with me as Thou wilt!'
The passion of her prayer seemed to help her, and her brain cleared.
Surely something could be done! She would do what she could; but first
she must understand the situation. She turned again to the old harbour-
master:
'How long would it take him to reach the headland, if he can swim so
far?' The answer came with a settled conviction bearing hope with it:
'The wind and tide are wi' him, an' he's a strong swimmer. Perhaps half
an hour will take him there. He's all right in himself. He can swim it,
sure. But alack! it's when he gets there his trouble will be, when none
can warn him. Look how the waves are lashing the cliff; and mark the
white water beyond! What voice can sound to him out in those deeps? How
could he see if even one were there to warn?'
Here was a hope at any rate. Light and sound were the factors of safety.
Some good might be effected if she could get a trumpet; and there were
trumpets in the rocket-cart. Light could be had--must be had if all the
fences round the headland had to be gathered for a bonfire! There was
not a moment to be lost. She ran to the rocket-cart, and got a trumpet
from the man in charge. Then she ran to where she had left her horse.
She had plenty of escort, for by this time many gentlemen had arrived on
horseback from outlying distances, and all offered their services. She
thanked them and said:
'You may be useful here. When all these are ashore send on the rocket-
cart, and come yourselves to the headland as quick as you can. Tell the
coastguards that all those saved are to be taken to the castle. In the
rocket-cart bring pitch and tar and oil, and anything that will flame.
Stay!' she cried to the chief boatman. 'Give me some blue lights!' His
answer chilled her:
'I'm sorry, my lady, but they are all used. There are the last of them
burning now. We have burned them ever since that man began to swim
ashore.'
'Then hurry on the rocket-cart!' she said as she sprang to the saddle,
and swept out on the rough track that ran by the cliffs, following in
bold curves the windings of the shore. The white Arab seemed to know
that his speed was making for life. As he swept along, far outdistancing
the groom, Stephen's heart went out in silent words which seemed to keep
time to the gallop:
'Oh, to be God, and be able to do things! Give me this man's life, oh,
God! Give me this man's life, to atone for that noble one which I
destroyed!'
Faster and faster, over rough road, cattle track, and grassy sward; over
rising and falling ground; now and again so close to the edge of the high
cliff that the spume swept up the gulleys in the rocks like a snowstorm,
the white Arab swept round the curve of the bay, and came out on the high
headland where stood the fisher's house. On the very brink of the cliff
all the fisher folk, men, women and children, stood looking at the far-
off burning ship, from which the flames rose in leaping columns.
So intent were all on the cliff that they did not notice her coming; as
the roar of the wind came from them to her, they could not hear her voice
when she spoke from a distance. She had drawn quite close, having
dismounted and hung her rein over the post of the garden paling, when one
of the children saw her, and cried out:
'The lady! the lady! an' she's all in red!' The men were so intent on
something that they did not seem to hear. They were peering out to the
north, and were arguing in dumb show as though on something regarding
which they did not agree. She drew closer, and touching the old
fisherman on the shoulder, called out at his ear:
'What is it?' He answered without turning, keeping his eyes fixed:
'_I_ say it's a man swimmin'. Joe and Garge here say as it's only a
piece o' wood or sea-wrack. But I know I'm right. That's a man
swimmin', or my old eyes have lost their power!' His words carried
conviction; the seed of hope in her beating heart grew on the instant
into certainty.
'It _is_ a man. I saw him swim off towards here when he had taken the
rope on shore. Do not turn round. Keep your eyes on him so that you may
not lose sight of him in the darkness!' The old man chuckled.
'This darkness! Hee! hee! There be no differ to me between light and
dark. But I'll watch him! It's you, my lady! I shan't turn round to do
my reverence as you tell me to watch. But, poor soul, it'll not be for
long to watch. The Skyres will have him, sure enow!'
'We can warn him!' she said, 'when he comes close enough. I have a
trumpet here!' He shook his head sorrowfully:
'Ah! my lady, what trumpet could sound against that storm an' from this
height?' Stephen's heart sank. But there was still hope. If the
swimmer's ears could not be reached, his eyes might. Eagerly she looked
back for the coming of the rocket-cart. Far off across the deep bay she
could see its lamp sway as it passed over the rough ground; but alas! it
would never arrive in time. With a note of despair in her voice she
asked:
'How long before he reaches the rocks?' Still without turning the old
man answered:
'At the rate he's going he will be in the sweep of the current through
the rocks within three minutes. If he's to be saved he must turn seaward
ere the stream grips him.'
'Would there be time to build a bonfire?'
'No, no! my lady. The wood couldn't catch in the time!'
For an instant a black film of despair seemed to fall on her. The
surging of the blood in her head made her dizzy, and once again the
prayer of the old memory rang in her brain:
'Oh to be God, and able to do things!'
On the instant an inspiration flashed through her. She, too could do
things in a humble way. She could do something at any rate. If there
was no time to build a fire, there was a fire already built.
The house would burn!
The two feet deep of old thatch held down with nets and battened with
wreck timber would flare like a beacon. Forthwith she spoke:
'Good people, this noble man who has saved a whole shipload of others
must not die without an effort. There must be light so that he can see
our warning to pass beyond the rocks! The only light can be from the
house. I buy it of you. It is mine; but I shall pay you for it and
build you such another as you never thought of. But it must be fired at
once. You have one minute to clear out all you want. In, quick and take
all can. Quick! quick! for God's sake! It is for a brave man's life!'
The men and women without a word rushed into the house. They too knew
the danger, and the only hope there was for a life. The assurance of the
Countess took the sting from the present loss. Before the minute, which
she timed watch in hand, was over, all came forth bearing armloads of
their lares and penates. Then one of the younger men ran in again and
out bearing a flaming stick from the fire. Stephen nodded, he held it to
the northern edge of the thatch. The straw caught in a flash and the
flame ran up the slope and along the edge of the roof like a quick match.
The squeaking of many rats was heard and their brown bodies streamed over
the roof. Before another minute had passed a great mass of flame towered
into the sky and shed a red light far out over the waste of sea.
It lit up the wilderness of white water where the sea churned savagely
amongst the sunken rocks; and it lit too the white face of a swimmer, now
nearly spent, who rising and falling with each wave, drifted in the sea
whose current bore him on towards the fatal rocks.