FREE.
The foreyard was pointed, and the gear of the mainsail hauled up, while
Richard Sparkes, with the aid of five hands, swung the lifeboat into
its davits. On the poop deck there was terrible confusion. The married
ladies crowded round poor Mrs Leyton, who was half swooning from her
anxiety and fear; Alice, refusing all assistance from Captain Lovell or
anybody else, stood with clenched teeth and strained eyeballs watching
the two black specks that bobbed up and down like corks upon the
water; and the rest of the passengers pressed against the taffrail,
talking in loud and excited tones to each other, whilst they watched
the fight for life or death.
In a few minutes the boat was pushed off, and the sturdy sailors made
the oars bend beneath the weight of their arms. Mr Sparkes held the
tiller, and kept cheering on the men, whilst he eagerly watched the
objects ahead of them.
What a long, long time it seemed. The boat did not appear to gain a
dozen yards, as it plunged and tossed against the billows. But the
seamen had muscles that had been developed by climbing and hauling. All
their sinews were like springs of steel. Each man, with one foot firmly
planted against the thwart in front of him, lay back upon his oar,
with a long, sweeping, steady English stroke, till his head was nearly
parallel with his companion’s knee--a stretch that would have made a
Dutchman look on with awe, mingled with admiration, and a pull that
sent the boat’s stem through the rollers, cutting them like a knife,
and plumping her down with a heavy bump on the other side. Vernon
Blythe and the child were now fully a mile astern. He had managed to
grasp the life-buoy, which was a good thing for both of them, for poor
little Winnie clung convulsively round his throat, entirely impeding
his swimming, whilst she sobbed and gasped, as she tried to recover her
breath after the nauseous doses of salt water she had swallowed.
She was a pretty little creature, and just at that age when children
become quaint and interesting. Her brown hair--which curled naturally,
like that of her elder sister--now hung in a wet clinging mass about
her face and shoulders. The gay ‘granny’ bonnet was gone: it had
floated far away to leeward. The velvet cloak still hung tightly about
her, and added considerably to her weight. Her little fat and shapely
legs, enveloped in long Hessian boots, now shuddering and almost stiff
with cold, rested on Jack Blythe’s hips. It was a hard struggle for him
to keep her above water, for the terrified child nearly choked him,
and he was exhausted from swimming in the boisterous, choppy sea, that
kept on breaking in a remorseless lather over his head and face, and
prevented him from breathing freely.
‘Don’t--cry--baby. There’s--a--boat--coming,’ he gasped; but the little
one did not answer him, except by a heart-rending sob, and a tighter
pressure on his throat.
Swish--h--h went the lifeboat, as the dripping oars were lifted,
feathered, and dipped again. The shellbacks, in regular time, gave a
muffled deep sigh, as they are wont to do after the tremendous exertion
of a stiff pull. Click-clack went the rollocks, as they shied and
swerved in their sockets--a long whirr-r--the order given ‘_Rowed
all_’--a rumbling noise, as the oars were shipped on the thwarts, and
the baby and her preserver were lifted by strong arms from the embrace
of the treacherous ocean, and hauled safely into the boat.
‘Now, give way, lads, merrily,’ said Sparkes, as Vernon Blythe seated
himself with the youngster on his knee, and the wiry saltfish, with
a cheer for the second officer, set themselves with renewed vigour
to their task. They had warmed to their work by this time. The
perspiration stood in large beads upon their foreheads, and their
blades went forward in clock-work time. Little Winifred, with her head
resting upon Vernon’s breast, gave vent to plaintive sobs, burying her
face in the wet folds of the young sailor’s shirt, and at intervals
peeping out as the _Pandora_ hove-to in the distance.
‘Ship--wouldn’t--wait--for baby,’ she said, whimpering, as she glanced
up into Jack’s face.
‘She will now,’ replied Vernon, smiling; ‘you went too fast for the
poor ship, baby, but she stopped as soon as ever she found you had
tumbled overboard. Poor mite,’ he added kindly, as he kissed her scared
face; ‘it was a narrow shave for you.’
‘Brother Jack found me,’ said Winnie, with another little sob.
Her sister had taught her to call him ‘_brother_’ long ago at Southsea,
and as Vernon heard her now, he smiled almost sadly, to think how
prematurely the appellation had been applied.
The passengers had crowded at the side of the vessel to watch the
issue of the accident, and saw the drowning child and Vernon lifted
into the lifeboat with the utmost satisfaction. Some of them were
cheering vociferously and waving their pocket handkerchiefs to express
their joy, whilst others were shouting ‘_Bravo!_’ But Vernon Blythe
sat in the stern, heedless of their congratulations. He was thinking
of Winnie’s narrow escape from a watery grave,--of Alice Leyton’s
agonised expression when she appealed to him to save her sister, and
he felt thankful that he had been made the instrument of the little
one’s safety. It seemed as though he had thereby paid part of the
debt he owed to Alice, and found it so difficult to discharge. Each
painful incident he had just undergone passed in rapid confusion
through his mind. He recalled how Alice had been talking by the
fiferail with Captain Lovell, when the cry of ‘_Man overboard!_’ had
been raised, and he had seen the baby quickly floating astern,--how
he had knocked that gentleman into the arms of the bystanders as he
jumped to her rescue,--then the leap from the half-round,--the cold
immersion,--the sight of the majestic vessel as she sailed away from
them,--the piteous crying of little Winnie,--his strenuous efforts to
obtain the life-buoy, with the child clinging to him for dear life,
and the horrible thought that they would both be drowned clasped thus
together. Just as his thoughts had reached their climax, they were
disturbed. Bump went the boat against the iron side, the tackles were
overhauled, and hooked on, and three of the sailors, with the aid of a
line and the mainbrace, clambered on to the deck. Hand-over-hand the
slack was hauled in, and the heads of the crew appeared above the rail.
Then the order was given to ‘Belay,’ and Vernon Blythe, with the child
still clinging to him, stepped on board again. The quarter-deck was
crowded. Everybody wished to congratulate him, and embrace little
Winnie; a dozen hands were stretched out to grasp his own. But Jack had
no time to attend to anybody. He strode past all the faces that beamed
upon him, until he had reached the side of Mrs Leyton, and placed her
child upon her lap.
‘Oh, Jack! my dear boy, how shall we ever thank you?’ cried the poor
mother hysterically, as she clasped her baby in her arms.
‘By saying nothing about it, Mrs Leyton,’ he answered cheerily; ‘you
know I would have done as much for any one of you, twice over.’
‘My darling Winnie!’ exclaimed Alice, as she smothered her little
sister’s face in kisses. ‘What should we have done if we had lost you?’
‘Brother Jack picked me out of the water,’ said Winnie, who had begun
to realise she was safe, and might leave off crying.
At that name, Alice blushed scarlet.
‘Give her to me, mother,’ she said hurriedly; ‘I must change her
clothes at once.’
‘Yes, Miss Alice, and put her in a hot bath, and then into bed until
to-morrow morning,’ interposed Dr Lennard, ‘or she will be ill.’
‘I will, doctor; come, darling,’ continued Alice, as she seized Winnie
in her arms, and without noticing Jack, or giving him one word of
thanks, passed through the crowd into the cabin passage, and out of
sight. She was too conscience-stricken to be able to trust herself to
thank him for his bravery. But Jack, who had been looking forward to
her expressions of gratitude for the risk he had run on her sister’s
behalf, only thought she under-rated it, and gazed after her in
disappointed silence.
‘Come, Blythe! how do _you_ feel?’ inquired Dr Lennard, shaking him by
the arm; ‘you must not get sleepy, you know.’
‘Oh, I’m all right, doctor, thank you, and none the worse for my swim,
though it was plaguey cold, I can tell you.’
‘You must come with me and have a pick-me-up,’ said the doctor.
‘No, thanks, sir! don’t trouble about me! A good stiff glass of grog
and a change of linen are all I want.’
‘Well, go and strip off those wet togs then, my boy, whilst I mix a
steaming jorum for you,’ replied Dr Lennard. ‘You’ve done a good day’s
work, Blythe, and we mustn’t let you suffer for it. Come along at
once,’ and he pulled the young officer away with him.
When both Jack and the baby had disappeared, and the passengers
had discussed the adventure in all its bearings, their excitement
toned down, and they returned to their usual avocations, whilst the
_Pandora_, with her mainsail set, sailed on at seven knots an hour.
But in the afternoon, when little Winnie was wrapt in peaceful slumber,
and Jack was on deck attending to his duty, Alice Leyton came up to
him, with flushed cheeks and outstretched hands.
‘Jack,’ she said (and her voice seemed unaccountably tender to him,
after the somewhat frivolous manner in which she had treated him of
late), ‘we have so much to thank you for, we don’t know how to do it. I
hope you did not think it unkind of me not to come before, but mother
has been quite ill from the shock and the excitement, and there has
been no one to look after baby but myself. It was so courageous--so
brave--so good of you to peril your life for--for--’
‘Pray don’t say another word about it, Alice. It was only my duty, and
there was but little danger. Any man in my position would have done the
same.’
‘But no man _did_,’ she answered quickly; ‘all the rest stood by like
sheep. The only one beside yourself who rendered the least assistance
was Mr Fowler, who cut away the life-buoy, and threw it overboard.’
‘They were not in my position, Alice. Think how long we have been
friends. Do you suppose I could have looked on to see any one whom you
care for drown? I thought you had a better opinion of me than that.’
‘I think you are the best and the kindest and the bravest friend I ever
had,’ replied Alice, with a sob in her throat; ‘and if I could only
repay you--but that is impossible--but if I could only show you some
kindness, in return for all you have done for us to-day, I should be so
happy.’
‘You _can_ repay me amply,’ said Jack, ‘and that is by being open with
me, Alice. I know that you have something on your mind which you are
unwilling to confide to me. This is not as it should be. Friends in our
position should trust each other _all in all or not at all_. If you
consider that you owe me any return for your sister’s safety, give it
me in your confidence.’
‘Oh, Jack! how _shall_ I tell you?’ sobbed Alice. ‘You are so sweet and
good. I admire and I love you so much--and yet--and yet--’
‘Shall I try and help you, dear? When baby found herself in my arms,
she whimpered “_Brother Jack picked me up!_” I think _that_ is the name
you would like to call me by, as well as baby. I think you want me to
be “_Brother Jack_” to you.’
‘Oh, Vernon! have you _guessed_?’ cried Alice, turning her crimson
face away from him.
‘That you would be quite ready to accept Lovell’s addresses were you
only freed from mine? Yes, Alice. I have guessed as much as that. Am I
right?’
‘But won’t it--won’t it _hurt_ you?’ she whispered.
‘Not very much. My vanity may suffer a little, but that is wholesome
discipline. And I have feared, too, for some time past, that we were
not _quite_ suited to each other; so you see it will be for the best
after all. Only, Alice, we must always be friends,’ he continued, as he
held out his hand.
‘Oh, yes, Jack--_dear_ Jack!’ she answered, with her bright eyes
swimming in tears; ‘and sometimes I think--sometimes I almost wish--’
‘Think and wish nothing, Alice, except what concerns yourself and
Captain Lovell,’ interposed Jack, who had a wholesome horror of a
sentimental scene in public, and was somewhat afraid also of what she
might be going to say. ‘He seems a very good sort of fellow to me, and
I have no doubt he will make you happy. And you may rely on my good
wishes, not only for the wedding, but all your future life. And now,
good-bye, dear, for I have business below. Give my love to your mother,
and tell her how thankful I am for baby’s safety, and how glad that
both your hearts are set at rest.’
He waved his hand gaily to her as he disappeared, and Alice believed he
was merely acting a part to hide his disappointment.
But (had she known it) his heart was far lighter than his action. A
load had been lifted off it. He felt--for the first time--that he was
free (in all honour) to woo and win Iris Hetherley!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]