A NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN NIGHT
"Be brave! Remember that you are a Meadow-Brook Girl, Tommy,"
encouraged Harriet. "We are swimmers. We can't drown unless we get
into a panic. There is a boat somewhere hereabouts. I saw one sail
into the cove, or the bay, whichever it is, before I went to sleep
this evening. The men surely will be coming out in the morning; then,
if we are too far from shore to get in, we ought to be able to attract
their attention. They will pick us up."
"Do--do you think we are far from thhore?"
"I fear so. Still, I can't be certain about that. I am dreadfully
confused and don't know one direction from another. I wish the moon
would come up. That would give us our points of compass. Perhaps the
clouds may blow away after a little. We shall at least be able to see
more clearly after that."
"Oh, I'm tho cold! I'm freething, Har-r-r-i-e-t."
"I will fix that. Come, swim with me. We will ride the waves," cried
Harriet. The swells were long and high. Now they would ride to the
top of one, then go slipping down the other side on a plane of almost
oily smoothness. At such times Tommy would cry out. Even Harriet's
heart would sink as she glanced up at the towering mountains of water
on either side of them. It seemed as if nothing could save them from
being engulfed, buried under tons of dark water. At the second when
all hope appeared to be gone they would find themselves being slowly
lifted up and up and up until once more they topped another
mountainous swell.
Fortunately for the two girls, the tops of the swells were in most
instances solid, dark water. The strong wind having gone down, the
crests generally showed no white, broken foam. When such an one was
met with it meant a rough few moments for the Meadow-Brook Girls and a
severe shaking up. Tommy had been in the surf on many occasions, when
at the sea shore with her parents, and understood it fairly well.
Harriet had never been in the salt water, but was guided wholly by the
instincts of the swimmer, of one who loved the water, and for whom it
seemed almost her natural element, and in the excitement of the hour
she at times forgot the peril of their position. So far as she knew
they might already be far out to sea, with a mile or more of salt
water underneath them.
In the meantime there was intense excitement in the camp. Miss Elting
had been a witness to the sudden disappearance of Grace and Harriet.
She had seen both girls enveloped in the cloud of spray and dark
water. Jane McCarthy had gone bounding toward the beach, followed by
their guardian and several of the Camp Girls, who, though not having
seen Harriet and Grace disappear, surmised something of the truth.
Reaching the edge of the bluff, they saw at once what had occurred. A
large portion of the sandy bluff had sloughed off and slipped into the
sea, having been loosened and undermined by the persistent smash of
the waves against the bluff. Jane started to leap down, but Miss
Elting caught her in time.
"No, no, no," protested the guardian; "you must not!"
"But they are down there drowning!" screamed Crazy Jane.
"There is nothing we can do to save them. They aren't there. You can
see they are not."
"But if not, where are they?" cried Jane.
"My dears, if they went in there they undoubtedly have been carried
out. The undertow is very strong in a storm such as this," said Mrs.
Livingston sadly. She had hurried down to the beach upon seeing the
others running in that direction, to ascertain the cause.
"Some one get a boat!" screamed Margery.
The Chief Guardian shook her head sadly.
"There is no boat here. Even if there were, we could not launch it
against that sea, nor would it live a moment did we succeed in getting
it launched. We can do no more than trust in God and wait. You see the
wind is blowing on shore and--"
"No, it is blowing off toward the cove. The wind has shifted,"
answered Jane McCarthy. "But that doesn't help us a bit."
"Gather wood and build a fire," commanded Mrs. Livingston.
The Camp Girls hurriedly set about gathering fuel for a fire, but
having brought wood, the fuel refused to burn. The rain had thoroughly
soaked everything. The merest flicker of flame was all they were able
to get. They tried again and again, but with no better results,
finally giving up the attempt altogether.
"I am afraid we shall have to let it go," decided the Chief Guardian.
"A light would help so much, and, if the two girls are alive, would
serve as a guide for them."
Jane interrupted by uttering a shrill cry. She listened, but there was
no response. She cried out again and again, then finally gave up the
effort.
"I'm afraid they are gone," she moaned.
"Unless they were hurt when the wave struck them I do not believe they
are lost," said Miss Elting, with a calmness and hopefulness that she
really did not feel, though she dared not permit herself to admit that
Harriet and Grace really had been lost. "Both are excellent swimmers,
and Harriet never would give up so long as there was a breath of life
left in her body."
"But can't we do something?" pleaded Margery.
The Chief Guardian shook her head sadly.
"I fear we can not. You have but to look out there to know that any
efforts on our part would be futile."
Miss Elting suddenly cried out.
"Girls, what can we be thinking of? We must patrol the beach. The sea
is going down a little. Divide up into pairs; keep as close to the
shore as possible without being caught by a wave; then search every
foot of the beach all along. I will go up the beach. Hazel, you come
with me. Mrs. Livingston, will you have the other girls assist us?"
The Chief Guardian gave the orders promptly. Fifty girls began running
along the shore. Mrs. Livingston quickly called them back, dividing
the party into groups of two. She was very business-like and calm,
which, in a measure, served to calm the girls themselves.
"Look carefully," she cautioned. "The missing girls may have been
washed ashore; they may be found nearly drowned, and it may not be too
late to revive them. Make all haste!"
There was no delay. The Camp Girls took up their work systematically.
A thorough search was made of the beach in both directions, the
patrols eventually returning to the Chief Guardian to report that they
had found no trace of the missing girls.
"Keep moving. They may drift in," commanded Mrs. Livingston.
The search was again taken up, pairs of girls going over the ground
thoroughly, investigating every shadow, every sticky mass of sea weed
that caught their anxious glances, but not a sign of either of the two
girls did they find.
An hour had passed; then Mrs. Livingston called them in. She directed
certain groups to return to camp and begin getting the tents laid out,
and to put up such as were in condition to be raised. The Chief
Guardian herself remained on the beach with Miss Elting and the
Meadow-Brook Girls. There was little conversation. The women walked
slowly back and forth, scanning the sea, of which they could see but
little, for the night was still very dark. At first they tried calling
out at intervals, ceasing only when their voices had grown hoarse. To
none of their calls was there any reply. Harriet and Tommy were too
far out, and the noise about them was too great to permit of their
hearing a human voice, even had it been closer at hand.
Meantime the two girls were now swimming quite steadily. Harriet knew
that, were they to remain quiet too long, they would grow stiff and
gradually get chilled through. That would mark the end, as she well
understood. Then again it was necessary to give Tommy enough to do to
keep her mind from her troubles, which were many that night.
All the time Harriet was straining eyes and ears to locate the land.
She had not the remotest idea in which direction it lay, and dared not
swim straight ahead in any direction for fear of going farther away.
The wind died out and rose again. Had it continued to freshen from the
start, she would have permitted herself to drift with it, but Harriet
feared that the wind had veered, and that it was now blowing out to
sea, what little there was of it, so she tried to swim about in a
circle in so far as was possible. Tommy, of course, knew nothing of
what was in the mind of her companion, nor did Harriet think best to
confide in her.
"I'm getting tired. I can't keep up much longer," wailed Grace.
"Rest a moment on your back. I will keep a hand under your shoulders
so you won't sink. If only one knew it, it isn't really possible to
sink, provided the lungs are kept well filled with air and no water
swallowed."
"I could think like a thtone if I let mythelf go."
"Don't let yourself go. There is every reason why you should not, and
not one why you should."
"Yeth." Tommy turned over on her back. "Did you ever thwallow thalt
water?"
"I never did."
"Then don't. It ith awful. Oh, I'm tho tired and I'm getting thleepy."
Harriet roused herself instantly. She gave Tommy a brisk slap on one
cheek. Tommy cried out and began fighting back, with the result that
she was the one to swallow salt water. Tommy choked, strangled and
floundered, still screaming for Harriet to save her. Instead Harriet
let her companion struggle, keeping close to her, but making no effort
to help.
"Thave me!"
It was a choking moan. Uttering it, Tommy disappeared. Harriet lunged
for her and dragged her companion up, and none too soon, for the
little girl had swallowed so much salt water that she was really half
drowned. Harriet shook her and pounded her on the back, all the time
managing to float on the surface of the water, evidencing that
Harriet was something of a swimmer. Yet she was becoming weary and the
sense of feeling was leaving her limbs. She realized that it was the
chill of the Atlantic and that unless she succeeded in restoring her
circulation she would soon be helpless. Just now, however, all her
efforts were devoted to the task of arousing Grace. The little girl
began to whimper and to struggle anew.
"I am amazed at you, Tommy," gasped Harriet. "You, a swimmer, to
swallow part of the ocean!"
"I didn't. The ocean thwallowed me--e."
"You must work. Swim, Tommy!"
"I--I can't. I'm tho tired." Grace made languid efforts to prove that
she was weary. There could be no doubt of it. She did not have the
endurance possessed by her companion, and even Harriet's strength was
leaving her, because of that terrible numbness in her lower limbs, a
numbness that was creeping upward little by little.
"I will help you. But you must do something for yourself. Turn over on
your stomach. There. You need not try to fight it, just make swimming
motions, slowly. Not so fast. Now you have the pace."
"I can't keep it. My limbth will not work. My kneeth are thtiff. Oh,
Harriet, I think I'm going to die!"
"Nonsense! Why, you could swim all night, if necessary, and be up in
time for six o'clock breakfast just the same."
"Breakfatht. It will be fithh for breakfatht for Tommy Thompthon, I
gueth. Fithh, Harriet, fithh," mumbled Grace, then ceased swimming.
"Fithh!"
"Poor girl, she is about done for!" muttered Harriet Burrell. She
turned Tommy over on her back and, placing a hand under the little
girl, began swimming slowly. The added burden was almost more than
Harriet, in her benumbed state, was able to handle. She knew that she
could not support Grace and herself through the rest of that long,
dark night. She knew, too, that unless they were rescued, her
companion would be past help by the end of another hour. It already
seemed hours since they had slipped into the sea and rode out on the
crest of a receding wave. Now her movements were becoming slower and
slower. She seemed not to possess the power to move her limbs. It was
not all weariness either; it was that dragging numbness that was
pulling her down.
Harriet fought a more desperate battle with herself than she ever had
been called upon to fight before. She did not now believe that they
would be rescued, but that did not prevent her keeping up the battle
as long as a single vestige of strength remained. It was sheer grit
that kept Harriet Burrell afloat during that long, heart-breaking swim
among the Atlantic rollers on this never-to-be-forgotten night.
But at last the girl ceased swimming. Her limbs simply would not move
in obedience to her will; her arms seemed weighed down by some
tremendous pressure; her head grew heavy and her senses dulled.
"I believe this is the end," muttered Harriet. One great struggle,
then her weary muscles relaxed. For a few moments she floated on her
back, turned over with a great effort, then settled lower and lower in
the water, all the time fighting to regain possession of her
faculties, but growing weaker with each effort.
Then Harriet Burrell went down, dragging Tommy with her.