When Wal Jessop reached Edgar Foster--for it was our hero who had been
so miraculously saved from sudden death--he found him sitting with his
back to the rock, and gazing out to sea with wistful eyes. Edgar smiled
faintly as he approached, and held out his hand, which Wal Jessop
seized in a hearty clasp. Edgar began to talk, but Wal Jessop told him
not to excite himself, and to leave anything he had to say until they
were safe and sound on the top of the rocks.
‘The little one is safe,’ said Wal. ‘It was easy enough to take her up,
but it will be more difficult with you, and I shall want you to help me
all you can.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Edgar, ‘but I feel very weak. What an awful
night it was!’ And he shuddered as he spoke.
‘You’ll be able to tell me about it later on,’ said Wal Jessop. ‘Try
and walk a bit; put your arm round my neck, and lean on me heavily.’
Edgar managed to stand on his feet, but he felt so weak he almost fell
down again. However, he succeeded in dragging along, with Wal Jessop’s
assistance, as far as the dangling rope. Edgar saw how long it was, and
said:
‘Will it bear us both? You ought not to run any risk.’
It’s strong enough to hold an elephant,’ said Wal; ‘and there’s plenty
of good sturdy fellows on top to haul us up.’
Without further delay he proceeded to make preparations for the ascent.
He tied the rope firmly under Edgar’s arms, then made a loop lower down
in which he could fix his feet. When Wal had put his feet in the loop,
Edgar put his feet on the top of Wal Jessop’s, and, facing each other,
they were ready to be hauled up. Wal Jessop also had his arms round
Edgar, in case the rope was not sufficient support for him.
‘Do you feel firmly fixed?’ said Wal.
‘Yes,’ replied Edgar; ‘but it will be a stiffish pull for those on the
top.’
‘Never you fear!’ said Wal. ‘They’ll manage it. It’s what they have
been at all their lives, hauling in ropes either on board or ashore.’
He gave the signal, and they commenced slowly to ascend.
It was with a hearty cheer the men hauled them out of danger, and when
Wal Jessop and Edgar stood on the top of the rock the good fellows
capered with delight like so many schoolboys. They surrounded Edgar,
and were so boisterous in their expressions of goodwill towards him,
that Wal Jessop felt he ought to interpose, or else the excitement
would be too much for the lad.
‘Hold hard, boys!’ he shouted, forcing them back. ‘This is my prize,
and I’m going to carry him off home. A rest will do him good, and we
shall hear all about his escape later on.’
‘What ship was it?’ asked one of the men.
‘The _Distant Shore_,’ said Edgar sadly.
‘And the skipper?’
‘Lost--all lost, I am afraid, but myself and the little one,’ said
Edgar.
Good-natured Wal Jessop, wishing to prevent more painful questions,
hurried Edgar Foster away from the scene as quickly as he could walk.
‘Where are we going to?’ asked Edgar.
‘My cottage,’ said Wal. ‘The wife has taken the young one, and has
probably put her in bed ere this.’
‘You are very kind to us,’ said Edgar.
‘I shouldn’t be much of a man if I didn’t do all I could for you,’ said
Wal. ‘I’ll bet you’d have done as much for me.’
‘I should have done my best,’ said Edgar.
‘I know it, lad, and therefore there is all the more pleasure in
helping you. Mind the path here, it’s a bit rough and steep,’ said Wal.
When they reached Wal Jessop’s cottage, Edgar felt exhausted, and sank
helplessly into the easy-chair Mrs. Jessop placed ready for him. Tears
stood in her eyes as she looked at Edgar’s youthful face, and thought
of those who would mourn him as lost until they learned the truth.
‘Poor lad!’ she said in a whisper to Wal. ‘He’s worn out, and no
wonder. You must get him into bed, and I’ll make something hot for him.’
‘He’ll be best there,’ said Wal. ‘Here goes!’
He lifted Edgar out of the chair, and carried him into a small bedroom.
He helped him off with his clothes, such as they were, all ragged and
torn, and wrapped him in the blankets. Mrs. Jessop brought him a bowl
of beef-tea and bread, and after Edgar had done justice to it, he fell
into a sound sleep.
‘Wonder who he is?’ said Mrs. Jessop. ‘He’s a fine lad.’
‘And a brave one,’ said Wal. ‘He’ll sleep a good many hours, I guess.
I’ll go up to Sydney by the boat, and give what information I can about
the wreck. I’ll hurry back as quickly as possible. If he asks for me,
tell him I shall not be long away. Where’s the child?’
Mrs. Jessop, with her finger on her lips to ensure silence, noiselessly
opened their bedroom door.
Fast asleep in his own bed Wal Jessop saw the child he had rescued from
a cruel death. How calm and peaceful she lay; not a thought of trouble
haunted her as she slept! One tiny hand peeped out from the coverlet,
and Wal Jessop could not resist covering it with his large hand. The
little one returned the pressure, but did not awake.
‘I wish she belonged to us,’ he said to his wife.
‘So do I,’ was her reply. ‘Who knows but what she may do, if she has
lost her father and mother?’
‘We shall find out all about them when I return,’ he said. ‘Rest is
what they want now, poor things. I’ll bring some clothes back for him.
You can get the little one some when you go out. It will be a bit of
fresh shopping for you,’ he added with a smile that brought the colour
into his wife’s cheeks.
When Wal Jessop reached Sydney, he found everyone in a state of
excitement about the wreck, so many different accounts having been
given by irresponsible persons. But he did not stay to gratify mere
idle curiosity. He went direct to the offices of the Marine Board, and
gave all the evidence he could about the wreck of the _Distant Shore_.
His story was listened to with rapt attention, for Wal Jessop was a man
who could be depended upon in all he did or said.
At the conclusion of his story, Captain Fife, President of the Board,
complimented him upon his bravery, and asked him to bring the youth he
had rescued to the offices of the Board as soon as he was in a proper
state to give his version of the disaster.
‘By the way, what sort of a lad is he, Jessop?’ asked Captain Fife.
‘If looks go for anything, he’s one of the right sort,’ said Wal; ‘and
that he’s brave goes without saying, after what I have told you.’
‘Then, I dare say I can find him something to do,’ said Captain Fife;
‘that is, I mean, if he has no friends out here to help him.’
‘I’m sure it is very kind of you,’ said Wal. ‘I don’t know who or what
he is, at present; but he’s been brought up a cut above me, I guess.’
‘That may be,’ said Captain Fife, smiling; ‘but if he turns out as good
a man as Wal Jessop, his father will have reason to be proud of him.’
Wal Jessop’s honest face shone with pleasure at this remark, and he
said:
‘If I can be of any use to him, he’s welcome to all I know about
Australia.’
‘And that is more than most of us,’ said Captain Fife. ‘He is in good
hands, at any rate. Bring him here as soon as you can.’
Wal Jessop made the best of his way home. He avoided the busy shipping
quarters, but was waylaid by several of his acquaintances, who knew he
could tell them more about the wreck than anyone. The pressmen were
also on his track, and, in order to quiet them, Wal Jessop gave them a
short account of what had occurred.
‘It’s not all I know,’ he said at the conclusion of his remarks; ‘but
it is quite enough for you chaps with vivid imaginations to work upon.
I reckon, when I read the accounts, they’ll be equal to anything that
could have been strung together on the spot. Some of you have fathered
stirring yarns on to me before now. Give me a rest this time, and I’ll
forgive you.’
‘We can’t let you off so easily, Wal,’ said one pressman. ‘If I don’t
get your photo for my paper I shall have to find another shop to work
in.’
‘You’ll get no photo from me,’ said Wal. ‘I’m not a particularly
good-looking man, but I draw the line at those outrages in your paper,
Billy.’
When Wal Jessop arrived home, he found Edgar had just awoke out of a
refreshing sleep, for which he felt much better.
‘I have brought you some new clothes,’ said Wal; ‘your garments were
rather knocked about with rough usage. How do you feel now, my lad?’
‘Excepting the pain in my head, I am all right,’ said Edgar. ‘It is
very good of you to purchase me clothes. I have lost all I had on board
the ship. I put a draft in my coat-pocket, but I had to get rid of my
coat to save our lives. I must let my father know I am saved, as he
will be anxious about me when he hears of the wreck.’
‘I’ll send a cablegram,’ said Wal. ‘We can manage to advance you cash
enough,’ he added, smiling. ‘Now put on your clothes and come and have
a chat with the lassie.’
‘She’s a dear little child,’ said Edgar, ‘and the captain’s daughter.’
‘Poor Manton!’ said Wal; ‘I fancied as much. She’s got the look of her
father about her.’
When Edgar appeared in the cosy room, he saw Eva quietly sitting on
Mrs. Jessop’s knees. The child cried out, and slipping down, toddled
towards him, holding out both hands.
Edgar clasped her in his arms and kissed her fondly.
‘Poor little Eva,’ he said. ‘I promised to save you if I could, and,
now I have done so, I will look after you.’
Eva commenced to prattle in her childish way, and asked for her mother.
‘She’s gone a long way off,’ said Edgar. ‘You will stay with me, won’t
you, dear?’
‘Yes. Stay till mamma comes back,’ said Eva. ‘Where’s daddy?’
‘Gone with mamma,’ said Edgar. ‘He said you must be a good girl.’
‘Always good girl with Eddy,’ she said, snuggling up against him.
This was more than Mrs. Jessop’s motherly heart could stand, and she
beat a hasty retreat.
‘Me go too,’ said Eva; and Edgar let her patter after Mrs. Jessop.
‘Now,’ said Wal Jessop, ‘we may as well introduce ourselves. I’m Pilot
Walter Jessop, and am as well known along this coast as a good many
sailors.’
‘Edgar Foster is my name,’ said Edgar, who proceeded to relate how
it came about he was on board the _Distant Shore_. He also told Wal
Jessop about his school-days and life at home. Wal Jessop was a man who
inspired confidence, and Edgar felt it would be good for him to make a
friend of the man who had rescued him from a watery grave.
‘We had a splendid passage,’ said Edgar, ‘until we were somewhere off
the coast of Tasmania, I believe. It was then the storm commenced to
brew, and Captain Manton became anxious. We could not have had a
better skipper, and no blame can be attached to him for the loss of the
ship. It was a pure accident. The rudder chains snapped at a critical
moment, and the ship was not under control. It was a terrible time, and
I shall never forget it. Captain Manton asked me to do what I could
to save his wife and child, as he had to try and look after the ship
and those on board. The last I saw of him he was standing as cool and
collected as though sailing calmly into port. What the agony of his
mind must have been I fail to imagine. When the crash came I snatched
Eva from Mrs. Manton’s arms, and directly afterwards I was hurled
against the side of the vessel, and the support almost immediately gave
way. I was pitched into the seething waves, with the child in my arms.
For a moment I was stunned, but when the dazed feeling passed I caught
hold of a floating spar, which I managed to grasp with one hand and to
hold Eva with my other arm. The child was insensible from the shock,
and luckily for us she did not know what happened.
‘After a few minutes I scrambled on the spar, which was tossed up and
down by the waves in a fearful manner. I expected every moment would
be my last, and that we should be dashed to pieces on the rocks. How
we escaped is really marvellous, and God must have been very near us
at that time. One huge wave lifted the spar on to the rocks, and as I
felt it roll backwards I slipped off and clung to a jagged edge of
rock. Another wave came rushing over us, and must have rolled me higher
up the rocks, for I remember nothing more until I saw you bending over
me. I can hardly realize I am saved, and can still hear the roar of the
waves, and seem to feel the water dashing over me.’
‘When you see the place where you were cast up by the sea,’ said Wal,
‘you will wonder still more that you were not dashed to pieces. I see
you are tired now. In the morning we can talk over what is best to be
done.’