"HILD UNDER HELM."
As one after another their resources seemed to fail, the courage of
more than one of the lads sank; but there was no daunting Yaspard, and
he began to talk of lighting a big tire, or setting up the sail as a
signal--of one and all of the devices which castaways use for
attracting attention, till Bill cut him short by saying, "We can do all
that by-and-by, when the sea falls enough to allow a boat to come here
if our signals were seen. It isn't any good just now, for all the
people are in their beds, and will be for hours, and while they are
sleeping we are starving."
At that moment Pirate came running from the farther side of the Stack
carrying a dead rabbit, which he proudly laid at his master's feet. He
had been amusing himself almost all the time since the landing with
hunting rabbits, and had at last caught one.
"You needn't starve now. See, Bill!" and Yaspard picked up the rabbit;
"a fine fat beast, thanks to Pirate. Ah, my dog, if you had Thor's
wings you would use them for me, not for yourself, I know."
Harry Mitchell looked admiringly at the noble dog; and when the others
moved away to collect wood for a fire (plenty of spars on Swarta Stack)
he fell into a reverie with his eyes fastened on Pirate.
Before long a fire was burning and the rabbit was roasting in an oven
of mud. The skin was not removed, for those old young campaigners knew
the best way to cook meat when the kitchen appliances were beyond
reach. While Lowrie watched the roast and Gloy fed the fire, Gibbie
went to the shore to secure some shell-fish and Bill went in search of
plovers' eggs, for all were agreed that, until absolutely driven to it,
they would not kill a sheep.
Yaspard, having set them all thus to work, returned to his place by
Tom, who had fallen into a sort of stupor more alarming than even the
restlessness and raving of the previous evening.
"In a brown study still, Harry?" the Viking asked, as he sat down and
looked sorrowfully at the invalid.
"I have an idea," was Harry's answer. "You see the wind is falling
already, and falling fast. It never lasts long at this season. But
there is a heavy sea that may not run off for a couple of days. And no
one lives on the part of Burra Isle facing Swarta Stack. Any signal we
make will not be seen by the folk of Burra Isle, and not likely noticed
by any one on Lunda, which is so much farther away. It really wouldn't
matter for any of us except Tom; but he must be seen to soon, if his
life is to be saved. If he were all right, we could camp here as long
as you please; so don't think me impatient or funking."
"No, no! I know that. What is your idea?"
"Your boat can't float, Yaspard, but your dog can swim."
Yaspard sprang to his feet and caught Harry's hands in his joyous
excitement. "That will do," he cried. "That will be better than Thor,
for I can go with Pirate. I can swim like a fish; and if he sees me
try it, he will go too--we could not expect him to fully understand
what we wanted if I did not do so. I'll be off as soon as it's
possible."
"Burra Isle is three-quarters of a mile from here," answered Harry
gravely.
"I'm good for it," was Yaspard's answer; "good for that, and a lot
more, in such an emergency as the present."
Harry's face dropped quickly, and he had some difficulty in keeping
back the tears, as a swift thought went back to his brother Frank, who
had given his life to save another. Just as Yaspard looked had Frank
stood, smiling like a hero, when he plunged into Wester-voe to save
cripple Bartle. But even that gallant deed had less risk in it than
this which Yaspard contemplated, for the distance Frank had to swim was
not half as far, and the sea was quite calm.
"It will be a fearful thing to do, Yaspard," Harry said after a pause;
"ten chances to one against your reaching the other shore. Yet--I will
not say _don't_--because--I'll try too. Did you ever hear of--what
our--Frank did?"
"Yes, I heard. It was remembering what he did made me want to do this
for poor Tom."
"Well, old man, we will make a try with Pirate when the weather falls a
little more."
"Not you, Harry. Only myself and Pirate. It would never do to leave
Tom with those duffers. And besides, poor chaps, they'd be all at sea
if we failed and no relief came. With _you_ still here _something_
would be thought of that had sense in it."
Harry was obliged to own the wisdom of Yaspard's words, knowing full
well how little Bill was able to take his place as director of affairs.
The Harrisons and Gloy were not to be depended upon for anything beyond
willing service and obedience to a guiding head. Yet Harry wished to
share Yaspard's responsibility, his peril, and his daring. "Let's cast
lots," he suggested.
"No," said the Viking-boy decisively. "This quest is mine. Not
another word about it, Harry."
"Mother, mother!" Tom muttered, rolling his head uneasily, and the word
reached their ears as they sat by the boat under which he lay.
"You hear?" whispered Yaspard; "think of your mother. If I don't reach
land I shall go to my mother, but yours is in the Manse of Lunda, and
would break her heart if anything happened to you."
By that time the rabbit was cooked, and some plovers' eggs also
roasted, along with a large crab which had been taking an airing before
Gloy's gleg[1] vision, and was obliged to yield to fate on the instant.
The lads were very hungry, and enjoyed their meal in spite of
everything.
When every morsel was demolished, even to the bones, which fell to
Pirate's share, the lads gathered in a group beside the boat, and tried
to wile away the time with supposing a great many wonderful kinds of
rescues which might take place; and it was then that Harry told the
others of Yaspard's project.
"You can never do it, sir," Lowrie exclaimed; "I ken weel ye canno',
and my faither wad never forgive us if we let you try."
"Tom Holtum's life, or mine, to be risked! My life is my own and
God's, to be used by me, with His approval, as my judgment thinks
best," was the dignified answer, which silenced Lowrie.
After that they watched the sea, and spoke very little for some hours,
until the wind had quite subsided and the waves were less broken. By
that time Tom's condition made a desperate attempt more urgent still,
and Yaspard rose up saying, "Pirate, old boy, it is time you and I set
out. Good-bye, lads; and keep up your hearts, for if I fail the dog
won't."
They silently followed him to the low crags where they had so blithely
landed. Lowrie meekly stooped and picked up the boots Yaspard took
off, and Gibbie was heard to sob, but no one offered the smallest
remonstrance; they were in hearing of Tom's broken words and pitiful
moans, and each one thought, "I'd do the same thing if I could."
"Take care of my crew, Harry," Yaspard said, giving one glance back;
and then they called out, "God preserve you." He smiled. "Thank you!
that sounds good; now, Pirate, come!"
He plunged into the surf and struck out manfully; and the dog kept
close by him, evidently aware that his young master's life was
entrusted to his keeping in a great measure.
His companions watched their progress with burning anxiety, and hope
rose high within them as they saw how easily the dog swam; for they
were confident that while Pirate floated Yaspard was safe.
Yaspard was not so confident himself after being in the water some
time, and he frequently found himself obliged to pause and rest his
hands on the dog. They were greatly helped by the tide flowing towards
Burra Isle. Indeed, Yaspard would not have started on such a dangerous
voyage if he had not calculated that he must receive great assistance
from the sea itself. All he had to do was to keep himself afloat and
drift with the current; but, as all swimmers know, it is often as
trying to do that as to breast an opposing force.
He found infinite comfort in the companionship of his faithful dog, and
frequently spoke to him--more for the purpose of encouraging his own
heart than because Pirate needed words of cheer.
But that piece of water seemed very broad, and there seemed for ever
sounding in our hero's ears the refrain of an old song with which Mam
Kirsty used to lull Signy to sleep in her baby days--
"My cradle and my grave is the deep deep sea."
Yet Yaspard was not the least afraid, and only thought, even when those
doleful words seemed to ring like a knell through the roar of the
waves, "Tom will be saved if I reach the shore, and if I don't, Pirate
is sure to land and make his way to a house at once. That will tell as
well as any words of mine."
He was very nearly exhausted when at last he found himself in shallow
water; so, putting on a desperate spurt, he managed to reach a sandy
creek where a landing could be easily made. But as he staggered up
from the water, thanking God in his heart, a sudden weakness
overpowered him, and he fell senseless on the sand. Pirate had reached
land before his master, and was shaking himself vigorously when Yaspard
dropped. The wonderful dog-intellect at once divined that something
must be very far wrong, and he sniffed around the motionless form, with
deep anxiety expressed in every gesture and in the low whining noise he
made.
At last, when he found that Yaspard did not stir, Pirate determined
upon seeking help without further delay. With a piteous howl he turned
from the spot and bounded up the hill, making for the nearest
habitation or human being with the unerring instinct of his race.
[1] Keen.