THE SKARES
I whispered to Marjory and Don Bernardino:
"If they once get away we are lost! We must stop them at all hazards!"
The Spaniard nodded and Marjory squeezed my hands; there was no need
of speech. Then I fixed the order of battle. I was to fire first, then
the Spaniard, then Marjory, each saving his fire till we knew whether
another shot was required. This precaution was necessary, as we had no
reserve ammunition. We took it for granted that the chambers of the
revolvers were full; my one shot had been satisfactory in this respect.
When the sails were set and we began rushing through the water I saw
that even at the risk of betraying ourselves to our enemies we must give
warning again, and so fired. There was an answering cheer from the
_Keystone_ through the fog; and then a sudden rush forward of those on
our own deck. When they were close to us, the seamen hung back; but the
men of the gang kept on firing as they came. Fortunately we were in a
line behind cover, for I could hear the 'ping' and the tearing wood as
the bullets struck the mast. I fired a shot just to show that we were
armed; and heard a sharp cry. Then they fell back. In a moment or two
they also had formed their plan of battle. These were men used to such
encounters; and as they knew that at such times a quick rush may mean
everything, they did not let the grass grow under their feet. I could
see one of the seamen remonstrating with them, and hear the quick,
angry tones of his voice, though I could not distinguish the words.
He pointed out into the fog, where now there was distinctly a luminous
patch of light: the searchlight was moving towards us. The _Keystone_
was coming down on us.
The blackmailer shook off the seaman and, then gave some directions to
his comrades; they spread out right and left of us, and tried to find
some kind of cover. I lifted Marjory and put her standing on the barrel
fastened behind the mast, for I thought that as the flash of my pistol
had come from the deck they would not expect any one to be raised so
high. Don Bernardino and I curled down on the deck, and our opponents
began to fire. In the thickening fog, and with the motion of the ship
which threw us all about like ninepins, their aim was vague; fortunately
no one was hit. When I thought I had a chance I fired, but there was
no response; the Don got a shot and Marjory another, but there was no
sound, save that of the bullets striking on wood or iron. Then Marjory,
whose traditional instinct was coming into play, fired twice in rapid
succession; there was a quick exclamation and then a flood of horrible
profanity, the man was only winged. Again and again they fired, and I
heard a groan behind me from the Don.
"What's that?" I whispered, not daring to stop or even to look back:
"My arm! Take my pistol, I cannot shoot with my left hand." I put my
hand back, and he placed the revolver in it. I saw a dark form rush
across the deck and fired--and missed. I tried another shot; but the
weapon only answered with a click; the chambers were exhausted. So I
used the other revolver. And so for a few minutes a furious fight went
on. Marjory seldom fired, she was holding herself in reserve; but
before I knew what was happening my second revolver was empty. Our
antagonists were no chickens at their work; there was little to teach
any of them in such a method of contest as this. Some one had evidently
been counting the shots, for he suddenly called out:
"Not yet boys! They've at least three shots still!" With a sudden
simultaneous rush they ran back into shelter.
During this time we had been tearing through the water at our full
speed. But behind us on the port quarter was the sound of a great ship
steaming on. The roar of the furnaces could be heard in the trumpeting
of the funnels. The boatswain's whistles were piping, and there were
voices of command cutting hoarsely through the fog. The searchlight too
was at work; we could see its rays high up on the mist, though they did
not at the moment penetrate sufficiently to expose us to the lookout of
the _Keystone_. Closer on our starboard quarter was another sound which
came on the trailing wind, the rush of a small vessel running fast.
We could hear down the wind the sharp 'slap slap' of the waves on the
bows, and the roaring of the wind among the cordage. This must be
the _Sporran_ following us close with grim disregard of danger. The
commander of the whaler, recognising the possibility of discovery, put
his helm hard to starboard. I could myself not see through the darkness;
but the seaman did and took his chance of grounding in Cruden Bay. When
we had run in a little way the helm was jammed hard down again, and
we ran on the other tack; for the moment we were lost to both the war
ship and the yacht. Marjory looked at me appealingly and I nodded; the
situation was not one to be risked. She fired another shot from her
pistol. There was an immediate reply from far out on our port side in
the shape of more directions spoken with the trumpet and answering
piping from the boatswains. Several shots were fired towards us by the
gang; they were manifestly on chance, for they went wildly wide of us.
Then we could hear an angry remonstrance from the whaler captain, and a
threat that if there were any more firing, he would down with his sails
and take chance of being captured. One of the gang answered him:
"That packet can't capture you within the three-mile limit; it's a
cruiser of Uncle Sam's and they won't risk having to lie up in harbour
here till the war is over." To which the other surlily replied:
"I wouldn't put money on it. Anyhow someone will! You keep quiet if you
can. There's enough against us already if we should be caught!" The
reply of the blackmailer was at least practical. I could not see what he
did, but I took it that he put his pistol to the captain's head as he
said with a frightful oath:
"You'll go on as you arranged with me; or I'll blow your brains out
where you stand. There's quite enough against any of us, you included;
so your one chance anyhow is to get out of this hole. See?" The captain
accepted the position and gave his orders with a quiet delivery, to the
effect that we ran first shorewards and then to starboard again till we
were running back on our tracks like a hare.
Suddenly, however, this course was brought to an end by our almost
running into a small vessel which as we passed I could see by its trim
appearance was a yacht. We were so close for a few seconds, whilst we
ran across her stern, that I shouted out:
"All right, MacRae. All safe as yet. She's trying to run out to sea. Try
to tell the _Keystone_." The answer was a cheer from all aboard.
As our ship swept into the fog, several of our enemies ran at us. I
handed Don Bernardino his own dagger and took the bowie knife myself.
Then we stood ready in case our foes should get to close quarters.
They got nearly up to us, firing as they came; but we were just then
sheltering behind the mast and no injury was done. They hesitated to
come on, not seeing us; and we waited. As we stood with beating hearts
the ship began to come to starboard again. We must have been sheltered
in some way, for we did not seem to feel either wind or tide so much as
before. Suddenly one of the seamen said:
"Whist! I hear breakers!" The rest paused and listened, and the captain
called out:
"Hard to starboard; we are running on shore!" The ship answered at once,
and we began to run across the wind, feeling the tide at the same time.
But as we went, a searchlight flashed on the fog before us. We could not
stop or change quick enough to quite avoid the ship from which it came,
but the helm was put hard to starboard again and we ran close along side
a great war ship. I could see her tower with protruding cannon as we ran
by. A voice came through a speaking trumpet, and I could just catch the
first words as the vessel swept by us:
"Rocks ahead!" The instinct of the seaman spoke, even at such a time, to
keep another vessel from harm. The answer from our vessel was a volley
of curses. Then the searchlight swept our deck, and we could see all our
enemies. They were round us in a great ring and closing in upon us. They
saw us, too, and with a shout began to run in. I took Marjory by the
waist and ran with her to the bow of the ship; I flung her up on the
bulwark and jumped up beside her. Don Bernardino joined us in a moment,
and we saw the searchlight as it passed us and pierced into the fog
ahead. Already the bulk of the battleship was almost lost in the mist;
there was only a faint indication of her presence in a monstrous mass
behind the searchlight, and the end of a spar rising above the fog. In
front of us there was a great roaring of water and that sharp rushing
sound which comes from the back sweep of a broken wave. Our skipper saw
the danger, and in a voice like a trumpet gave his orders.
But it was too late to do anything. As the searchlight again swept our
deck, I saw the ring of men break up and scatter; almost at the same
moment the rays passing beyond us, fell on a low rock rising from the
sea up whose sides great waves were dashing. We were rushing to it,
borne by wind and tide in a terrible haste.
At that instant we struck a rock below the water. With the shock we
three were thrown forward into the sea. I heard a despairing shout
behind us; and then the water closed over my head.
When I rose it was in a wild agony of fear for Marjory. She had been
sitting to my left on the bulwark and must therefore have fallen to
seaward of me. I raised myself as well as I could and looked around;
and, by God's grace, saw two hands rising above the water a few yards
from me. With all my might I struggled towards them, and was able to
drag my wife up to the surface. When I had her with me, though my terror
and anxiety increased, I could think. At such moments the mind acts with
lightning speed, and in a second or two I came to the conclusion that
the rock we had struck must be amongst the Skares. If so, the only
chance was to edge in with the tide and try to avoid striking any of the
underlying rocks which I knew well were so deadly. Had not I seen
Lauchlane Macleod come to his death through them.
It was a desperate struggle before us. The tide was racing amongst the
rocks, and even were there no waves it would have been a difficult task
to have won through it into shore. For myself I was a strong enough
swimmer to have found my way in, even if I had had to round the outer
rock and keep up to the harbour of Whinnyfold. But with Marjory to care
for, too--Marjory who had only lately learned to swim.... The prospect
was indeed a terrible one. We must not lose a chance, and so I made my
wife loose her skirts which fell away in the drag of the water; she
could then swim more freely and to the best of her power.
The wind beat fiercely, and the tops of the breaking waves nearly choked
us as they flew. There was just light enough down on the water level to
see rocks a few yards ahead; the line of the shore rose like one dim
opaque mass. In the darkness and the stress of the tide race there was
little I could do, save keep Marjory's head and my own above the water
and let the current bear us on. I must avoid the rocks as well as I
could, and let all my efforts tend to bring us shorewards. There was not
time for fears or doubting, or hoping; the moments must pass and the
struggle be made, never-ending though it seemed to be.
After a few minutes I began to tire; the strain of the last few days and
my late effort in reaching the whaler had begun to tell on me. I had now
and again a passing thought of Don Bernardino and the friends who had
been helping us; but they were all far off. The Spaniard I should
probably never seen again; the others might never see us.... I was
relapsing into the lethargy of despair.
With a violent effort I woke to the task before me, and kept sternly on
my way. Marjory was striving her utmost; but her strength was failing.
Her weight was becoming deader.... That nerved me to further effort,
and I swam on so frantically that I drew closer to the mainland. Here
there was shelter of a kind; the waves broken by the outer rocks
were less forceful. The crested tops which the wind had driven on us
were weakening also. There was hope in this and it kept me up. On I
fought--on--on--on. Oh! would the struggle never end! I shut my teeth,
and forged on fiercely. I could feel that we were going with the rush of
the waves through a gully between sunken rocks.
Joy! there was shore beneath my feet, rough pebbles which rolled and
worked against each other. The wave pulled us back. But my heart was
renewed again. I made one more frantic effort, and swam closer to the
land. Then as I saw the wave began to recoil I put down my feet, and
with the last of my strength lifting Marjory in my arms I fought
fiercely with the retreating wave. Staggering over the screaming
pebbles, exhausted to the point of death, I bore her high up on the
beach and laid her down. Then I sank lifeless beside her cold body.
The last thing I remember was the faint light of the coming dawn,
falling on her marble-white face as she lay on the shore.