"Not in this case, Ern," I said. "He would say it did not concern me,
and you know nothing moves him when he determines on a thing. You'll
have to reconcile yourself to losing Laddie, I'm afraid."
Ernest's tow-coloured head went down on Laddie's neck again, and I,
deciding that there was no use in saying anything more, proceeded
towards the shore, which was about a mile from Uncle Richard's house.
The beach along his farm and for several farms along shore was a
lonely, untenanted one, for the fisher-folk all lived two miles
further down, at Rowley's Cove. About three hundred yards from the
shore was the peculiar formation known as Island Rock. This was a
large rock that stood abruptly up out of the water. Below, about the
usual water-line, it was seamed and fissured, but its summit rose up
in a narrow, flat-topped peak. At low tide twenty feet of it was above
water, but at high tide it was six feet and often more under water.
I pushed Uncle Richard's small flat down the rough path and rowed out
to Island Rock. Arriving there, I thrust the painter deep into a
narrow cleft. This was the usual way of mooring it, and no doubt of
its safety occurred to me.
I scrambled up the rock and around to the eastern end, where there was
a broader space for standing and from which some capital views could
be obtained. The sea about the rock was calm, but there was quite a
swell on and an off-shore breeze was blowing. There were no boats
visible. The tide was low, leaving bare the curious caves and
headlands along shore, and I secured a number of excellent snapshots.
It was now three o'clock. I must wait another hour yet before I could
get the best view of the "Hole in the Wall"--a huge, arch-like opening
through a jutting headland to the west of me. I went around to look at
it, when I saw a sight that made me stop short in dismay. This was
nothing less than the flat, drifting outward around the point. The
swell and suction of the water around the rock must have pulled her
loose--and I was a prisoner! At first my only feeling was one of
annoyance. Then a thought flashed into my mind that made me dizzy with
fear. The tide would be high that night. If I could not escape from
Island Rock I would inevitably be drowned.
I sat down limply on a ledge and tried to look matters fairly in the
face. I could not swim; calls for help could not reach anybody; my
only hope lay in the chance of somebody passing down the shore or of
some boat appearing.
I looked at my watch. It was a quarter past three. The tide would
begin to turn about five, but it would be at least ten before the rock
would be covered. I had, then, little more than six hours to live
unless rescued.
The flat was by this time out of sight around the point. I hoped that
the sight of an empty flat drifting down shore might attract someone's
attention and lead to investigation. That seemed to be my only hope.
No alarm would be felt at Uncle Richard's because of my
non-appearance. They would suppose I had gone to Uncle Adam's.
I have heard of time seeming long to a person in my predicament, but
to me it seemed fairly to fly, for every moment decreased my chance of
rescue. I determined I would not give way to cowardly fear, so, with a
murmured prayer for help, I set myself to the task of waiting for
death as bravely as possible. At intervals I shouted as loudly as I
could and, when the sun came to the proper angle for the best view of
the "Hole in the Wall," I took the picture. It afterwards turned out
to be a great success, but I have never been able to look at it
without a shudder.
At five the tide began to come in. Very, very slowly the water rose
around Island Rock. Up, up, up it came, while I watched it with
fascinated eyes, feeling like a rat in a trap. The sun fell lower and
lower; at eight o'clock the moon rose large and bright; at nine it was
a lovely night, dear, calm, bright as day, and the water was swishing
over the highest ledge of the rock. With some difficulty I climbed to
the top and sat there to await the end. I had no longer any hope of
rescue but, by a great effort, I preserved self-control. If I had to
die, I would at least face death staunchly. But when I thought of my
mother at home, it tasked all my energies to keep from breaking down
utterly.
Suddenly I heard a whistle. Never was sound so sweet. I stood up and
peered eagerly shoreward. Coming around the "Hole in the Wall"
headland, on top of the cliffs, I saw a boy and a dog. I sent a wild
halloo ringing shoreward.
The boy started, stopped and looked out towards Island Rock. The next
moment he hailed me. It was Ernest's voice, and it was Laddie who was
barking beside him.
"Ernest," I shouted wildly, "run for help--quick! quick! The tide will
be over the rock in half an hour! Hurry, or you will be too late!"
Instead of starting off at full speed, as I expected him to do, Ernest
stood still for a moment, and then began to pick his steps down a
narrow path over the cliff, followed by Laddie.
"Ernest," I shouted frantically, "what are you doing? Why don't you go
for help?"
Ernest had by this time reached a narrow ledge of rock just above the
water-line. I noticed that he was carrying something over his arm.
"It would take too long," he shouted. "By the time I got to the Cove
and a boat could row back here, you'd be drowned. Laddie and I will
save you. Is there anything there you can tie a rope to? I've a coil
of rope here that I think will be long enough to reach you. I've been
down to the Cove and Alec Martin sent it up to your uncle."
I looked about me; a smooth, round hole had been worn clean through a
thin part of the apex of the rock.
"I could fasten the rope if I had it!" I called. "But how can you get
it to me?"
For answer Ernest tied a bit of driftwood to the rope and put it into
Laddie's mouth. The next minute the dog was swimming out to me. As
soon as he came close I caught the rope. It was just long enough to
stretch from shore to rock, allowing for a couple of hitches which
Ernest gave around a small boulder on the ledge. I tied my camera case
on my head by means of some string I found in my pocket, then I
slipped into the water and, holding to the rope, went hand over hand
to the shore with Laddie swimming beside me. Ernest held on to the
shoreward end of the rope like grim death, a task that was no light
one for his small arms. When I finally scrambled up beside him, his
face was dripping with perspiration and he trembled like a leaf.
"Ern, you are a brick!" I exclaimed. "You've saved my life!"
"No, it was Laddie," said Ernest, refusing to take any credit at all.
We hurried home and arrived at Uncle Richard's about ten, just as they
were going to bed. When Uncle Richard heard what had happened, he
turned very pale, and murmured, "Thank God!" Aunt Kate got me out of
my wet clothes as quickly as possible, put me away to bed in hot
blankets and dosed me with ginger tea. I slept like a top and felt
none the worse for my experience the next morning.
At the breakfast table Uncle Richard scarcely spoke. But, just as we
finished, he said abruptly to Ernest, "I'm not going to sell Laddie.
You and the dog saved Ned's life between you, and no dog who helped do
that is ever going to be sold by me. Henceforth he belongs to you. I
give him to you for your very own."
"Oh, Mr. Lawson!" said Ernest, with shining eyes.
I never saw a boy look so happy. As for Laddie, who was sitting beside
him with his shaggy head on Ernest's knee, I really believe the dog
understood, too. The look in his eyes was almost human. Uncle Richard
leaned over and patted him.
"Good dog!" he said. "Good dog!"