This morning was unlike the mornings which Oliver had watched since the
flood came. There was no glowing sky towards the east; and he saw that
there would be no broad train of light over the waters, which should so
dazzle his eyes as almost to prevent his seeing anything else. It was
now a stormy-looking sunrise. Huge piles of clouds lay on the eastern
horizon, through which it seemed impossible that the rays of the sun
should pierce. The distant church-spire looked black amidst the grey
flood: and the houses and chapel at Sandtoft, which now stood high out
of the water, had a dark and dismal air. Oliver would have been rather
glad to believe that there would be no sunshine this day, if he had not
feared there would be storm. He had so learned, in these few days, to
associate reeking fogs and putrid smells with hot sunshine, that a shady
day would have been a relief: but it there should come a tempest, what
could be done with the sick members of the party? It was dangerous to
stand under the trees in a thunderstorm; and the poor tent would be
soaked through with a quarter of an hour's rain. He thought it would be
best to take down the tent, and wrap up Mildred and Roger in the cloth;
and to pile the mattresses, one upon another, at the foot of the
thickest tree they could find; so that there might be a chance of one
bed being left dry for poor Mildred.
While arranging this in his mind, Oliver had been anxiously looking
abroad for any moving speck on the grey waters. Seeing none, but
perceiving that the clouds were slowly mounting the sky, and moving
onwards, he felt that he ought to be going to the hill, to make such
preparations as were possible before the first raindrops should fall.
Slowly and sadly he turned away to do so, when, casting one more glance
eastwards, he perceived something moving--a dark speck, leaving the
ruined roof of a dwelling which stood about half-way between himself and
the hamlet.
There could be no doubt that this speck was a boat; and as it came
nearer, Oliver saw that it was--a large boat, but quite full. He could
distinguish no figures in it, so heavy seemed the mass of people, or of
goods, with which it was crowded. It came on and on, however; and
Oliver's heart beat faster as it came. How he wished now that he had
kept a flag flying from the spot on which he stood! How he wished he
now had a signal to fix on this height! Though the boat-people were
still too far off to distinguish figures, a signal might catch their
eye. If he went to the Red-hill for a flag, the boat might be gone away
before his return. Trembling with haste, he stripped off his shirt, and
swung it in the air. He even mounted the top stone, which, surrounded
by no wall, or other defence, hung over the waters below. Oliver would
have said, half an hour before, that he could not have stood alone on
this perilous point: now, he not only stood there, but waved his white
signal with all his strength.
Did anybody notice it?
He once thought he saw what might have been an oar lifted in the air;
but he was not sure. He was presently only too certain of something
else--that the boat was moving away, not in the direction in which it
had approached, but southwards. He tried, as long as he could, to
disbelieve this; but there it went--away--away--and Oliver had to come
down from his stone, put on his clothes again, and find how thirsty he
was.
There was hope still, he felt--great hope: but he must keep it from
Mildred, who was in no condition to bear the disappointment of such a
hope. He doubted whether Ailwin could control her tongue and her
countenance, while possessed of such news. It would be hard not to be
able to tell any one of what so filled his thoughts; and he resolved to
see first what state Roger was in.
When he reached the tent, Roger was not there. Ailwin could not tell
where he was. He had staggered away, like a drunken person, she said--
he seemed so giddy; but she could not leave Mildred to see after him,
though he had spoken to a lord; if indeed that could be true of a boy
like him. Ailwin looked up at the clouds, every moment, as she spoke;
and Mildred shivered, as if she missed the morning sunshine. Oliver saw
that he must make ready for the storm, before he prepared for what might
follow. He and Ailwin pulled down the long piece of cloth from its
support, doubled it again and again, and put Mildred into the middle of
it. Oliver longed to lay her under a leafy tree; but he dared not, on
account of the lightning, which was already beginning to flash. He and
Ailwin set up the deal table as a sort of penthouse over her; and then
busied themselves, in her sight, in piling together everything else they
had, to keep as many articles as possible from spoiling.
Oliver was just thinking that he might slip away to seek Roger, when he
saw that Mildred was sobbing, under the heap of cloth they had laid upon
her. In a moment he was by her side, saying--
"What is the matter, dear? Are you afraid of the storm? I never knew
you afraid of thunder and lightning; but perhaps you may be now, because
you are ill."
"No," sobbed Mildred.
"I cannot help being glad of this storm," continued Oliver, "though it
is disagreeable, at the time, to people who have no house to go to. I
hope it will clear the air, and freshen it; and that is the very thing
we want, to make you better."
"It is not that, Oliver. I don't mind the storm at all."
"Then what makes you cry so, dear? Is it about Geordie?"
"Yes. Something about him that I don't think you know; something that I
shall never bear to think of. It will make me miserable as long as I
live. Do you know, I was tired of nursing him, and hearing him cry; and
I gave it up--the only thing I could do for him! I asked Ailwin to take
him. And in two days he was dead; and I could never do anything for him
any more."
Here a burst of grief stopped her voice. Her brother said, very
solemnly,--
"Now, Mildred, listen to me,--to the little I can say--for you know I
cannot, in this place, stay and talk with you as we should both like,
and as we might have done at home. I think you were almost always very
kind to Geordie; and I am sure he loved you very dearly. But I have
heard mother say that the worst part of losing dear friends is that we
have to blame ourselves, more or less, for our behaviour to them,--even
to those we loved the very most. So I will not flatter you, dear:
though I don't at all wonder at your being tired of hearing Geordie cry
that day. I will not say whether you were right or wrong; but only put
you in mind that we may always ask for pardon. Remember, too, that you
may meet Geordie again; and perhaps be kinder to him than we ever are to
one another here. Now I will go, and come back again soon."
"Stop one minute," implored Mildred. "I dreamed that you all went away
from this hill, and left me alone."
As she said this, she looked at her brother, with such a painful
wistfulness, that he saw that she had had a fever-dream, and was not yet
quite clear from its remains. He laughed, as at something ridiculous;
which Mildred seemed to like: and then he reminded her more gravely,
that they could not get away from this place if they would. If an
opportunity should occur, he assured her he would not leave hold of her
hand. Nothing should make him step into a boat without her. Poor
Mildred had fancied, bewildered as she was this morning, that if Oliver
knew of what she had done about George, he would think himself justified
in leaving her to perish on the hill; and yet she could not help telling
him. Her mind was relieved, for the present, and she let him go.
He found Roger where he first looked for him,--near the mummy. The poor
lad was too ill to stand; but he lay on the slimy bank, poking and
grubbing, with a stick and with his fingers, as deep in the soft soil as
he could penetrate. Oliver saw that he had found some more
curiosities;--bunches of nuts,--nuts which were ripening on the tree
many hundreds of seasons ago; but which no hand had plucked till now.
Oliver could neither wonder nor admire, at this moment: nor was he vexed
(as he might have been at another time) at Roger's crawling hither, in
pursuit of gain, to be made more ill by every breath he drew while
stooping over the rank mud.
"Don't be afraid, Roger," said Oliver. "I am not going to touch your
findings, or meddle with you. I want you to change your clothes,--to
put off that finery,--and to let me know where the bag of money is that
you took out of the chest."
Roger stared.
"I am going to pack that chest again; and I want to see everything in
it, that it may be ready if any boat should come."
"Boat!" exclaimed Roger.
"Yes: a boat may come, you know; and we must not detain it, if such a
thing should happen. If you die without restoring that money, Roger, it
will be a sin upon your soul: so tell me where it is, and have an easy
mind, I advise you. That will be a good thing, if you live an hundred
years."
"There is a boat here now! You are going to leave me behind!" cried
Roger, scrambling up on his feet, and falling again from weakness, two
or three times. "I knew it," he continued; "I dreamt it all last night;
and it is going to come true to-day."
"Mildred dreamed the same thing; and it is because you are both ill,"
said Oliver. "Lean upon me--as heavily as you like--and I will go home
with you, as slowly as you will, if you will tell me where the money-bag
is. You will find no boat there now, whatever there may be by-and-by:
but if you will not tell me where the money-bag is, I will shake you off
now, and leave you here. It is another person's money: and I must have
it."
Roger said he would tell, if Oliver would promise him not to leave him
alone on the island. Oliver assured him that there was no danger
whatever of the deliverers of some of the party leaving others to
perish. He owned that he was bound to make his sister his first care,
and Ailwin his next. As boys, Roger and himself must be satisfied to be
thought of last; but he hoped they should neither of them do an ill turn
by the other. He asked if Roger had ever received an ill turn from him.
"That is the thing," said Roger, sorrowfully: "and you have had so many
from me and mine!"
"I am sure I forgive them all, now you have once said that," cried
Oliver. "I forgive and forget them all: and so would father, if he
heard you."
"No! Would he? And he said once that he and his would scorn to be like
me and mine."
"Did you hear him say that? You used to hear every word we said to one
another, I think."
"It was Ailwin that threw that in my teeth."
"Father would not say so now: never after you had had Geordie on your
knees and made him fond of you, as you did."
"Do you really think so?"
"I am almost sure of it. But he could not help thinking badly of you if
you keep that money."
"I am not going to keep it. Do you go and find it, if you like, for I
can't. It is in a hollow elm that stands between two beeches, on the
other side of the wood. There is a little cross cut in the bark, on the
south side--that will help you to find it. But don't you go till you
have got me to the tent."
Oliver helped him home, amidst lightning and splashing rain, explaining
as they went why the tent was down, but thinking it best to say nothing
of the boat to one so weak-spirited as Roger was now. He then ran off,
and found the money-bag. He wished the weather would clear, that he
might look out again: but, meanwhile, he felt that he was not losing
time in collecting together all the goods that were on the hill; for the
tempest so darkened and filled the air, that he knew he could not have
seen a furlong into the distance, if he had been on his perch at this
moment. He wore his mother's watch in his pocket, feeling as if it
promised that he should meet her again, to put it back into her hands.
"Now, Oliver," said Ailwin, "I am vexed with you that you did not sleep
while you might, before this growling, splashing weather came on, and
while there was something of a shelter over your head. If you don't go
to sleep the minute this tempest is over, I must see what I must do to
you: for you will be having the fever else; and then what is to become
of me, among you all, I should like to know? I wish you would creep in
now between the mattresses under the tree, and never think of the storm,
but go to sleep like a good boy. It is hardly likely that the lightning
should strike that particular tree, just while you are under it."
"But if you should chance to find me a cinder, when you thought it time
for me to be waking, Ailwin--would not that be as bad as my having the
fever?"
"Oliver! How can you talk so? How dare you think of such a shocking
thing?"
"You put it into my head, Ailwin. But come--let me tell you a thing I
want you to do, if I should be away when it stops raining. Here are
Roger's old clothes, safe and dry here between the beds. When it leaves
off raining, make him pull off his wet finery, and put on his own dry
things; and keep that finery somewhere out of his way, that I may put it
back into the chest, where it ought to be lying now. Will you do this,
Ailwin?"
"Why, I'll see. If I was quite sure that he had nothing to do with this
storm, I might manage him as I could any other boy."
"Anybody may manage him to-day, with a little kindness. He is ill and
weak-spirited; and you can touch his heart with a word. If you only
remember how George cried after him, you will be gentle with him, I
know."
"Well, that's true: and I doubt whether a lord would have spoken with
him, if he had been so dangerous as he seems sometimes. Now, as to
dinner to-day, Oliver--I really don't like to give Mildred such food as
the game on the island now is. I am sure it is downright unwholesome.
Bird and beast, they are all dying off faster than we can kill them."
"The fowls are not all done, I hope. I thought we had some meal-fed
fowls left."
"Just two; and that is all: and the truth is, I don't like to part those
two poor things, enjoying the meal-picking together; and then, they are
the last of our wholesome food."
"Then let us have them while they are wholesome. Boil one to-day, and
make the broth as nice as you can for Mildred. We will cook the other
to-morrow."
"And what next day?"
"We will see to that when the day comes. Oh dear! When will these
clouds have emptied themselves? Surely they cannot pour down at this
rate long."
"The thunder and lightning are just over, and that's a comfort," said
Ailwin. "You might stand under any tree, now, Oliver; and you go
wandering about, as if you were a duck in your heart, and loved the
rain."
Ailwin might wonder, for Oliver was indeed very restless. While waiting
the moment when he might again cross to the staircase, he could not even
stand still under a tree. The secret of his having seen the boat was
too heavy a one to be borne when he was no longer busy. He felt that he
should tell, if he remained beside his sister and Ailwin; so he wandered
off, through the wood, to try how far he could see over the waters to
the south, now that the tempest was passing away.
Through the trees he saw some one--a tall person, walking on the grass
by the water-side. He ran--he flew. There was a boat lying against the
bank, and two or three men walking towards the wood. The foremost was
Pastor Dendel. Oliver sprang into his arms, clung round his neck for a
moment, and then fainted away.