little when he saw that they had got far enough away to be safe from any
arrow, supposing the men had bows and arrows with them, and he and
AEdric were laughing at the miserable plight of their pursuers.
Suddenly Corman began to row vigorously again. He had looked round, and
instantly worked as hard, or harder, than ever at the oars.
"Why, Corman, what is the matter?" said AEdric; but the monk did not
answer. AEdric looked about, puzzled; there was no other boat in sight,
and the men were still far too busy trying to get into their boat to be
thinking of any means of pursuing them, even if they had a chance of
finding any. But while AEdric was wondering what had caused these
renewed exertions of brother Corman, the raft came to a stop. It also
had run on the mud.
Their position was now singular, and very tantalising to both parties,
but especially so for Corman and AEdric, for a few strokes more or a few
inches more water and they would have been over the bank and into the
little lake that ran into the deep channel on the other side. But there
was no help for it. They could not push the logs of wood across, tied
together as they were, and they were compelled to sit patiently and
watch the struggles of the men in the other boat.
These latter had at last got in again, and a loud shout told Corman and
AEdric they had discovered that they also were aground.
"What shall we do?" asked AEdric, ruefully.
"Sit here, my son, until the Lord sends the water back again."
Poor Corman was not sorry altogether. It had been a terrible trial of
his strength, and he had pluckily answered to it; but he was very
exhausted. Fortunately he had the pitcher of water on board, which he
had put there in case AEdric should want any, or feel faint, and it now
came in very usefully. After taking a long draught, he uttered a sigh of
satisfaction, and stretched himself at full length on the raft, closing
his eyes and folding his hands together on his chest.
AEdric pushed a skin under his head, but the monk took no notice. The
boy would have liked to have talked, but he respected Corman's fatigue,
and watched the other boat's crew instead. They were doing nothing,
sitting listlessly on the sides of the boat, some with their black legs
hanging over, some with their legs inside, all looking disconsolate and
foolish. They evidently had no bows with them, or they would have tried
a shot at the raft.
The tide had now gone down a long way, and both boat and raft were left
high and dry. Corman still slept, and AEdric was beginning to be very
weary of their position, when he thought he heard some one hailing them.
He looked about, but could see no one. Thinking it was his fancy, he
was going to lie down when again he heard a voice calling, and this time
there was no doubt it was some one calling Corman. The boy instantly
awoke the monk, who sat up and rubbed his eyes with a dazed look.
"Corman, there is someone calling you."
"Is there? Where?" said Corman, sleepily.
"I don't know where. Listen, there it is again."
Corman got up and stood upon the raft, which had by this time settled
down with its weight into the mud. He looked about; the tide had got
down so low that the mud banks in places obscured a view of the water.
But as Corman looked round he caught sight of a small boat in the
Cissanceaster channel as near to him as it could get, which was about a
quarter of a mile off however. As soon as the men--for there were
two--in the boat saw Corman, they shouted to him again.
"Hullo!" cried Corman; "what dost thou want?"
A confused collection of sounds answered.
"I can't hear thee," shouted Corman. "Who art thou?"
"Wevcumfrolfrid" was all AEdric could make out.
"What does that mean?" said Corman. "Speak more clearly," he shouted.
Again the incomprehensible sound came back.
"Well, they've got very weak voices, whoever they are," said Corman.
"We've come from Wilfrid," came at last distinctly across the mud.
"They have come from Wilfrid," cried AEdric, joyously. "We shall
escape, then, after all."
"I don't know that," said Corman. "How are we to get to them, or they
to us?"
At last an idea occurred to him. He got up again.
"Hast thou any mud-pattens?" he shouted.
No answer. He yelled out his question again. This time the word "No"
reached him.
"Canst thou not get any?" he yelled.
"We'll gongetsome."
"Well, that is sensible," said Corman, as he saw the boat go off towards
the opposite shore.
*CHAPTER XV.*
*"THE CRUEL CRAWLING FOAM, THE CRUEL HUNGRY FOAM."*
"Well, AEdric, if we can once get over to the other shore we shall be
all safe, for Wilfrid is feared by all these South Saxons in a way that
I never could understand."
"But who dost thou think they are who are pursuing us?"
"It must be the Eorldoman Berchthune."
Corman had now stretched himself out again, and was preparing to have
his doze out. Fortunately, the weather was fine. Their situation was
uncomfortable enough with fair weather; it would have been deplorable
had it rained. The little raft lay stranded on a wide-stretching bank
of mud; all round little rivulets washed their muddy courses out of the
soft ooze. On one side, but at some distance, a belt of shingle, marked
with a long brown streak, the boundary of the sea at high water, was
surmounted by a brown growth of wind-blown bushes, relieved here and
there by a weird oak-tree, whose blighted growth appealed in
outstretched leafless branches to the north-east to protect it from the
violent treatment it always received at the hands of its tormentor, the
south-west wind; above, a grey sky, windless and still, while all the
world below looked sodden, and muddy, and brown. On this world of mud a
sea-gull or two were having an eager feast, not unaccompanied by an
occasional fight over some succulent crab or juicy winkle, while a
curlew dipped its curved beak among the brown sludge, or plaintively
cried to its more fortunate mate. Overhead a heron winged its way,
looking sardonically down on the dot of the raft and the somewhat larger
speck of the boat. It was a dull, dreary scene--a world of mud, a world
of wood, a world of grey and brown.
AEdric looked at it all wearily enough. He began to feel sleepy too.
It seemed so odd to be so close to their enemies, doing nothing, and yet
perfectly safe. They were not more than five hundred yards off, and in
the perfect quiet he could hear the voices of the men as they
occasionally spoke.
Gradually he dozed off. The seagulls came nearer, the crabs crawled up
on to the edges of the raft, and the lobworms busily raised their piles
all round. So passed an hour. But what is it that causes the crabs to
sidle away, and the gulls to get up on circling wings, screaming the
while?
"Wake up, Corman, wake up, AEdric, and see what your pursuers are
doing," the wild birds seemed to cry.
Weary of doing nothing, the idea had occurred to Berchthune to make a
movable kind of platform of planks, by which two men could approach the
raft. By laying down one set of boards and then standing on them, they
were able to lay another set ahead, then getting on these, they were
able to pull up the others, and slide them past and place them ahead
again, and so they were able to make laborious but sure way up to their
prey. In this way they had already advanced about fifty yards, and were
getting more adroit in moving the boards.
Heavily Corman was sleeping, and AEdric was far away in dreamland.
Nearer and nearer the boards were being pushed; not without much noise
and mirth from those in the boat, however. Several times the two
adventurous ones had, in the confidence of their skill, gone too much to
the side of their treacherous platform, with the result that they had
slipped into the fathomless mud, and had to crawl ignominiously back
upon their fickle plank, blacker and humbler men. Each of these checks
to their pride had evoked shouts of laughter from their comrades and
showers of abuse from Berchthune, who was fretting at the delay.
AEdric was dreaming blissfully, and Corman still snored.
Nearer and nearer the men approached, when a shout from their comrades
urged them to more activity. The other boat had been seen returning
from the Selsea shore. It ran on the mud at the nearest point to the
raft, and a man was seen to get out and walk over the slippery surface
towards Corman and AEdric.
"Why, he's got boards on his feet!" said the begrimed and weary South
Saxon, as he squatted on his precarious plank to look at the strange
spectacle, disgusted at the mean advantage of the other man.
Quite safely the man slithered his way over the mud, carrying four flat
boards in his hands. He had already gone nearly half the distance, and
this in about five minutes; while the enterprising South Saxons had
taken nearly an hour to get over an equal space.
"Get on with ye, sluggards, or they will escape yet!" shouted
Berchthune, stamping with rage at the idea of his game getting away,
after all the hours of waiting on the mud, and the certainty of its
falling into his hands at last, on which he had consolingly counted. The
two South Saxons now realised that they must make the most desperate
exertions if they hoped to get to the raft before the other man. They
tugged at their boards--splash they went, into the mud ahead; quickly
they got upon them--splash came the last ones they had trodden on out of
the mud behind; they toiled at them to put them into their places, then
jumped upon them, and once more heaved at their last resting-place.
They had no time to look up, splash--slosh--heated work; grimy, filthy,
slimy toil--and all the time the crew shouted to them, cheering them on,
and encouraging them to fresh exertions. Brother Corman was well
avenged for the trouble they had given him in the morning. The men were
a great deal nearer the raft than the other man was; but he was going on
steadily, and well. And in spite of all the South Saxons could do, the
boards would stick in the mud, and their labour was terrific. Their
plight was piteous: the perspiration rained off their foreheads, and
formed little lanes of white down their muddy faces. And all the time
Berchthune yelled at them, and the crew hied them on. And now the men
were not more than ten yards distant, while the other man was about the
same. The excitement on board the boat became intense, for their men,
going as they were in a line from them, seemed to be much nearer than
the other man, whose whole distance was visible.
"Make a jump for it!" roared Berchthune. "By Woden's beard, I'll have
ye flayed alive if ye don't beat that 'nithing' there."
The men tugged amain, but, alas for their success! they could not get
their last resting-place up; they had, in their eagerness, placed the
board they were standing on too far away from the one they had just
left. They leant over the mud, they stretched themselves, they gasped,
they dripped, but all to no purpose, and, worse than all, their last
standing place began slowly to increase its distance.
They had placed their boards on the slippery brow of one of the many
little rivulets which drained the mud-banks, and as they leant over to
get at the other planks left behind, all their weight, being on one
side, caused the boards to lift at the other end, and begin slowly to
slide down into the little gully.
One of the men had reached over so far that, as the board receded, he
fell forward on his face in the mud, clutching desperately to the other
planks. The other man was just able to recover his balance before too
late.
"Hold on to my legs, man, can't thee?" roared the prostrate South Saxon,
as loud as he was able, for his mouth was very near the mud. The other
man did as he was told. The situation was now too ludicrous, even for
the man who was hastening, as fast as his awkward mud-pattens would
allow him, to rescue Corman and AEdric. He stopped still and begun to
roar with laughter.
By this time Corman was beginning to be aware that there were other
existences besides his own. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, looked about
him, and could scarcely take in the situation. When he did he also
burst out laughing, and AEdric, waking up, was astonished to see Corman
sitting on the raft, his mouth wide open, and peals of laughter shaking
him from head to foot.
The unfortunate South Saxons were not nearly so much amused; the
wretched one, who was now acting as a kind of animated tow-rope to the
other planks, was hanging on grimly to the tenacious boards, while his
comrade held on fast to his ankles and all the time the other boards
were slowly slipping over the ooze. Neither man dare let go, and yet
there was no hope of being able to pull the obstinate boards out of the
mud, as there was no purchase by which they could be raised, and they
were besides slimy with mud.
For a minute the tension lasted; then slowly the man's hands slipped off
the greasy planks, and he lay spread out, face downwards, on the ooze.
The other South Saxon still held on to his legs, and the two, now that
his comrade had let go of the firmly-imbedded planks, glided more
speedily into the bed of the little rivulet. There was no danger of the
prostrate man sinking into the mud provided he did not attempt to walk.
The long weed-like grass that spread over the surface kept him up, so
long as he lay outstretched; but he wanted to get on the boards on which
his comrade was seated, and the difficulty was how to do it. He
wriggled and twisted, and sank his knees into the slime, but at last he
succeeded in rolling himself down sideways on to the plank; and there
the two men sat, disconsolate and helpless, within six yards of Corman
and AEdric.
All this time the Eorldoman Berchthune was shouting himself hoarse with
abuse at the wretched adventurers, and Corman and AEdric were enjoying
the sport.
Their rescuer had now waddled up to them. Corman knew how to use
mud-pattens, but the difficulty was how to carry AEdric. He could use
one leg, and they managed by putting one mud-patten on his foot, and
holding him between them, to get him off the raft.
The South Saxons, seeing their prey escaping them, when they had so
nearly grasped it, and urged on by the abuse of Berchthune, determined
to make one more effort. Profiting by his experience of the buoyant
nature of the mud, if only its properties were clearly understood, the
South Saxon who had wriggled on to the planks beside his comrade
determined to try the plan again. It was only six yards--only three
times his own length--and the mud-pattens were not yet adjusted.
Throwing himself forward on to the mud, he began to wriggle over it
towards the raft. The other man, not to be out-done, began doing the
same.
"Quick, AEdric, or we shall be too late after all," cried Corman.
The South Saxons were just reaching the raft as Corman and their
deliverer assisted AEdric off between them. Wildly their pursuers flung
themselves upon it. The others were only a few paces off. Without
hesitating a moment, the first South Saxon reared himself erect on the
raft, and sprang fiercely after the retreating figures. He just managed
to reach the skirts of Corman's frock, and plunged knee-deep in the mud.
He held on to the poor, old worn gown of the monk, who struggled to
wrench it out of his grasp, while AEdric and the other man pulled at
Corman. Suddenly there was a crack, and the torn handful of Corman's
garment remained in the South Saxon's hand, who sank deeper in the
yielding mud with the recoil.
The other South Saxon had been more prudent; he stood upon the raft and
looked at the now secure Corman and AEdric, and at his miserable
comrade--for miserable he was, far more so than at first sight appeared.
He wriggled and struggled to get out; plunged his hands and arms up to
their elbows in the mud. The more he strove, the more hopeless his
position became. Deeper--deeper, down he sank--the mud was now up to
his waist. If only he could get one leg out, or throw himself flat upon
the mud again; but the suction of the mud was upon him. Its awful grasp
had got sure hold of him.
"For the love of Valhalla, lend me a hand!" he roared.
"I can't, man. I can't reach thee!" cried the other.
"Give me that oar--give me them both. Quick!"
The oars were flung to him; he placed them under his armpits, and so low
had he sunk that he rested on them. For a time they bore him up, but
the slight sticks, only roughly flattened at the end, began to sink too;
and the pain in his shoulders was acute. His situation was desperate,
for although he was being only very slowly engulfed now, yet none the
less was the progress very sure. The tide had begun to rise--it was
coming in rapidly. Would there be time for the raft to float before he
was suffocated, or would the sea flow over his head first before there
was water enough to float it? It was a desperate hope.
Meanwhile, Corman and AEdric were safe in the boat Wilfrid had sent for
them, and were far away on the other side.
[Illustration: How ye South Saxon was held by ye mud, and naught could
save him:]
Up and up flowed the tide. The sea gulls had had their feast of crabs,
and were screaming overhead. The wretched man's eyeballs were starting
from his head; his head was sunk between his shoulders. Up and up crept
the tide. The lobworms had ceased to pile their little heaps; the crabs
were playfully scampering to meet the crawling froth, pushed further and
further with each succeeding wavelet.
No hope! the water has reached his chin; the slimy froth and scum of the
mud forms a collar round the doomed man's neck. One more prodigious
effort, one despairing, gasping heave. No good! The hands are clasped
over the mouth, with the instinct of self-preservation, even in
inevitable death; but the water knows no barrier. The froth bubbles up,
it is on a level with the lower lip, each wave and ripple washes higher,
now the mouth is covered. With a desperate wrench, the gasping man
raises his mouth above the water, but, unable to keep up the strain, his
head sinks again, and this time the cruel water has reached the nose.
The head falls down, a few bubbles, a little brown patch, hardly to be
distinguished from seaweed, around which the yellow froth laps in the
ripple, is all that marks where a strong man has died. Soon even that
will have disappeared, and the place that knew him shall know him no
more.
The sea had been washing round the raft for some minutes, but the
water-soaked logs were heavy, and had been sucked into the mud. The
drowned man's head had been entirely covered before the awkward
structure showed any signs of lifting. Indeed, the water was nearly
floating over it, and the South Saxon had begun to dread a similar death
to that of his comrade, when the raft gave a lurch, and once more was
afloat. The man had no oars, or anything to propel it with; but as the
other boat would be afloat also before many minutes, they would come and
pick him up.
Presently the idea occurred to him to push the raft with one leg on the
bottom; in this way, and with a favouring tide he was enabled at last to
reach his companions.
The Eorldoman Berchthune was very sullen, and greeted the man with
violent abuse for not having made more haste at first; and this was all
the misguided ceorl got for having volunteered on a perilous enterprise:
for having been face to face with death, and that almost the slowest,
most lingering, which could happen to man. But then in those days what
were men made for but for death?
The tide had now risen high enough to float the boat. Berchthune was
about to give orders to shove her off the bank, when a horseman
galloping hastily down the shingle on the shore, and riding his horse as
far out as he dared, shouted to the boat:
"Caedwalla has been made king of Wessex, and is marching upon us."
There was now no thought of pursuing AEdric. Orders were instantly given
to turn the boat's head towards Boseham again, and it was not long
before they reached its little quay. There the horseman met them,
having ridden his horse at full speed, and then Berchthune learnt fuller
particulars of the startling news.
Caedwalla was only a day's march distant, advancing with a powerful
force of West Saxon eorls, and his own veteran band of faithful
followers, no longer outlaws, but honoured friends of the king. He was
burning to avenge his last defeat and reassert his claim to the throne
of the South Saxons.
This was grave news. Berchthune mounted his horse and rode off at once
towards Cissanceaster, directing his followers to come after him as soon
as possible.
But all this time AEdric and Corman were making the best of their way to
Wilfrid. Corman, indeed, when he saw that AEdric was safe, intended
going back to look after Father Dicoll, but Wilfrid's men advised him
not, and as there was no boat, for they would not lend him theirs, he
was compelled to go on. He cast one more lingering, sad look at
Boseham, and mourned over his dearly-loved friend, Father Dicoll.
But AEdric was delighted; he should not now have to live at Selsea among
perfect strangers. After a long ride over a drearily flat country, they
came to a clearing amid the gorse and bush; on the other side of this
clearing a building, that to Corman and AEdric looked immense, towered
aloft over a hamlet of low thatched houses and a few farm buildings.
The smell of the sea was all round, and stacks of seaweed filled the air
with their peculiar odour.
What struck Corman and AEdric, however, was the order and tidiness of
everything. The thatched cottages were well thatched, the walls looked
well built, and the few people they met all looked better fed and
happier than those about Cissanceaster and Boseham. As they got nearer
to the large building a solemn sound rose and fell in measured cadence.
AEdric had never heard a sound like it, at least not produced by
artificial means; it was to him like the wind playing among the tall
trees and the sea rolling on the shore mingled with the deep mutter of
thunder on the horizon.
"What is it, Corman? is it an enchantment?"
"No, my son; it is the service of vespers in the new church Wilfrid has
been building. He has brought over from Rome new wind instruments; and
Gregory, the celebrated bishop of Rome, who sent Augustine, the monk,
hither, has set new music to the canticles of the church. Thou wilt now
be able to see how Christians perform their service of the voice and
heart to God."
"It is very grand," said AEdric, who had never heard any music more
beautiful than the harp, and no singing in combination more than a
chorus to some interminable gleeman's tale in verse.