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A LOOSE END AND OTHER STORIES
by
S. ELIZABETH HALL
Author of _The Interloper_
London:
Simpkin, Marshall Hamilton, Kent & Co., Ltd.
London: Truslove and Bray, Printers, West Norwood, S.E.
CONTENTS.
A LOOSE END
IN A BRETON VILLAGE
TWICE A CHILD
THE ROAD BY THE SEA
THE HALTING STEP
TABITHA'S AUNT
A LOOSE END.
CHAPTER I.
One September morning, many years ago, when the Channel Islands seemed
further off than they do now, and for some of them communication with
the outer world hardly existed, some two hours after the sun had risen
out of the sea, and while the grass and the low-growing bushes were
still fresh with the morning dew, a young girl tripped lightly along the
ridge of a headland which formed the south side of a cove on the coast
of one of the smaller islands in the group. The ridge ascended gradually
till it reached a point on which stood a ruined building, that was said
to have been once a mill, and from which on the right-hand side the path
began to descend to a narrow landing-place in the cove. The girl stood
still for a moment when she reached the highest point, and shading her
eyes looked out to sea. On the opposite side of the cove a huge rock,
formed into an island by a narrow shaft of water, which in the strife of
ages had cleared its way between it and the rocky coast, frowned dark
and solemn in the shadow, its steep and clear-cut sides giving it a
character of power and imperturbability that crowned it a king among
islands. The sea beyond was glittering in the morning sun, but there was
deep purple shadow in the cove, and under the rocks of the projecting
headlands, which in fantastic succession on either side threw out their
weird arms into the sea; while just around the edge of the shore, where
the water was shallow over rocks and weed, was a girdle of lightest,
loveliest green. Guernsey, idealized in the morning mist, lay like a
dream on the horizon. Here and there a fishing-boat, whose sail flashed
orange when the sun touched it, was tossing on the waves; nearer in a
boat with furled sail was cautiously making for the narrow passage--the
Devil's Drift, as the fishermen called it--between the island and the
mainland, a passage only traversed with oars, the oarsmen facing
forwards; while the two occupants of another were just taking down their
sail preparatory to rowing direct for the landing-place.
The moment the girl caught sight of this last boat she began rapidly to
descend the 300 feet of cliff which separated her from the cove below.
The path began in easy zig-zags, which, however, got gradually steeper,
and the last thirty feet of the descent consisted of a sheer face of
rock, in which were fixed two or three iron stanchions with a rope
running from one to the other to serve as a handrail; and the climber
must depend for other assistance on the natural irregularities of the
rock, which provided here and there an insecure foothold. The girl,
however, sprang down the dangerous path, without the slightest
hesitation, though her skilful balance and dexterity of hand and foot
showed that her security was the result of practice.
By the time she had reached the narrow strip of beach, one of the few
and difficult landing-places which the island offered, the two fishermen
were already out of the boat, which they were mooring to an iron ring
fastened in the rock. One of the men was young; the other might be, from
his appearance, between sixty and seventy. A strange jerking gait, which
was disclosed as soon as he began to move on his own feet, suggested the
idea that his natural habitat was the sea, and that he was as little at
ease on land as some kinds of waterfowl appear to be when walking. He
could not hold himself upright when on one foot, so that his whole
person turned first to one side and then to the other as he walked.
"Marie!" he called to the girl as she alighted at the bottom of the
cliff, and he shouted something briefly which the strange jargon in
which it was spoken and the gruff, wind-roughened voice of the speaker,
would have made unintelligible to any but a native of the islands.
The girl, without replying, took the basket of fish which he handed her,
slung it on her back by a rope passed over one shoulder, and stationed
herself at the foot of the path, waiting for him to begin the ascent:
the younger man, who was busy with the tackle of the boat, apparently
intending to stay behind.
When the old man had placed himself in position to begin the ascent,
with both hands on the rope, and all his weight on one leg, the girl
stooped down, and placing her lithe hands round his great wet
fisherman's boot, deftly lifted the other foot and placed it in the
right position on the first ledge of rock.
"Now, Daddy, hoist away!" she cried in her clear, piping voice, using,
like her father, the island dialect; and he dragged himself up to the
first iron hold, wriggling his large, awkward form into strange
contortions, till he found a secure position and could wait till his
young assistant was beside him once more. She sprang up like a cat and
balanced herself safely within reach of him. It was odd to see the
implicit confidence with which he let her lift and place his feet;
having now to support herself by the rope she had only one hand to
spare; but the feat was accomplished each time with the same precision
and skill, till the precipitous part of the ascent was passed and they
had commenced the zigzag path.
Then Marie took her daddy's arm under hers, and carefully steadied the
difficult, ricketty gait, supporting the heavy figure with a practised
skill which took the place of strength in her slight frame. Her features
were formed after the same pattern as his, the definite profile, tense
spreading nostril, and firm lips, being repeated with merely feminine
modifications; and as her clear, merry eyes, freshened by the
sea-breeze, flashed with fun at the stumblings and uncertainties of
their course, they met the same expression of mirth in his hard-set,
rocky face.
"You've got a rare job, child!" said he, as they stood still for breath
at a turning in the path, "a basket of fish to lug up, as well as your
old daddy. He'd ought to have brought them as far as the turning for
you."
"I'd sooner have their company than his, any day," with a little _moue_
in the direction of the cove. "I just wish you wouldn't take him out
fishing with you, Daddy, that I do!"
"Why not, girl?"
"It's he as works for himself and cares for himself and for no one else,
does Pierre," said the girl. "Comin' a moonin' round and pretending he's
after courting me, when all he wants, with takin' the fish round and
that, is to get the custom into his own hands, and tells folks, if _he_
had the ordering of it, there'd be no fear about them getting their fish
punctual."
"Tells 'em that, does he?" said the father, his sea-blue eyes suddenly
clouding over.
"That he does; and says he'd take up the inshore fishing, if he'd the
money to spend: and they should be supplied regular with crabs and
shrimps and such; and then drops a word that poor André he's gettin'
old, and what with being lame, and one thing and another, what can you
expect, and such blathers!"
"Diable! Do you know that for certain, child?" said André, stopping in
the path, and turning round upon her with a face ablaze with anger. "I
should like to hear him sayin' that, I should."
"Now, Daddy," she cried with a sudden change of tone, "don't you be
getting into one of your tantrums with him. Don't, there's a dear Daddy!
I only told you, so you shouldn't be putting too much into his hands.
But he'd be the one that would come best out of a quarrel. He's only
looking for a chance of doin' you a mischief, it's my belief."
"H'm! 'Poor André a gettin' old,' is he?" grunted her father, somewhat
calmed. "Poor André won't be takin' _him_ out with him again just yet
awhile--that's a certain thing. Paul Nevin would suit me a deal better
in many ways, only I' bin keepin' Pierre on out o' charity, his pore
father havin' bin a pal o' mine. But he's a deal stronger in the arms,
is Paul."
They reached the cottage, which stood on the first piece of level ground
on the way to the mainland. There was no other building within sight;
and with its bleak boulders and rocks of strangest form, in perpetual
death-struggle with the mighty force of ocean, resounding night and day
with the rush and tramp of the wild sea-horses, as they flung themselves
in despair on their rocky adversary, and with the many voices of the
winds, which scarcely ever ceased blowing in that exposed spot, while
the weird notes of the sea-fowl floated in the air, like the cries of
wandering spirits, the solitary headland seemed indeed as if it might be
the world's end.
The cottage consisted of one room, and a lean-to. Nearly half the room
was taken up with a big bed, and on the other side were the fire-place
and cooking utensils. Opposite the door was a box-sofa, on which Marie
had slept since she was a child, and which with a small table, two
chairs and a stool, completed the furniture of the room; the only light
was that admitted by the doorway, the door nearly always standing open;
the lean-to was little more than a dog-kennel, being formed in fact out
of a great heap of stones and rubbish, which had been piled up as a
protection to the cottage on the windward side; and three dogs and two
hens were enjoying themselves in front of the fire.
It was here that Marie had lived, ever since she could remember, in
close and contented companionship with her father: whom indeed,
especially since he had the fever which crippled him three years before,
she had fed, clothed, nursed and guarded with a care almost more
motherly than filial.