ANOTHER SEARCH.
Half-past eight o'clock in the morning. The gong had sounded, and we had
all assembled in the library for prayers. All but Aleck, who, for the
first time since he had been with us at Braycombe, was not in his usual
place.
My father missed him, and turned to ask me where he was.
"I expect he has gone out, papa," I replied; "he meant to go down to the
shore to look for his boat."
"If you please, sir," said Bennet the footman, "I saw Master Gordon
quite early this morning, maybe about six o'clock; he telled me he was
going down to look after the ship."
Family prayer was concluded and breakfast began, and still Aleck did not
appear. As he had no watch, it was not surprising that he should
mistake the time to a certain extent; but we all wondered he should be
so very late, and at last my father began to feel uneasy. "He must have
been a long way off not to have heard the eight o'clock bell," he said;
"yet he's a careful boy; it seems unlikely he should come to any harm."
"Run out on the lawn, Willie," suggested my mother, "and take a good
look round; perhaps he may be in sight."
But although I put a liberal interpretation upon the direction, and not
only ran out upon the lawn, but also down the drive for a little way,
and up the overhanging bank, from which we could got a sight far off
towards the White-Rock Cove, I could see nothing of my cousin, and
returned breathless to the dining-room without the tidings that my
parents expected.
The post had come in whilst I was out, and my father was engaged in the
perusal of a letter from Uncle Gordon, reading little bits of it aloud
to my mother as he went on. "Just starting for the Pyrenees ... need
send no letters for a fortnight ... address Poste Restante, Marseilles,
after this; the constant change of air has done wonders," &c. &c. When
the letter was finished, I saw there was one enclosed for Aleck, which
according to custom I laid upon his plate, repeating, at the same time,
that I had looked in every direction, but could see nothing of my
cousin.
"He must have gone down to the lodge, and perhaps Groves kept him,
finding it was late, and gave him something to take," said my mother.
Whereupon my father rung the bell, and desired Bennet to go down at once
to the lodge and inquire whether Master Gordon had been there, whilst in
the mean time I finished my breakfast, and was sent to the school-room
to get my lessons ready for Mr. Glengelly.
It was not long before my father came to me. "Willie," he said, "I can't
understand what has kept Aleck, and I fear he may have hurt himself, and
not be able to make his way home; so I am going out at once to look for
him, and you must help me."
There was something rather dignified in being thus spoken to by my
father, and, had it not been for the secret load, of which I dared not
tell him, but which already began to weigh with additional heaviness on
my heart, I should have felt somewhat elated at finding myself of
importance.
My father continued in a quick, decided manner: "Leave your lessons, and
run off at once to the lodge. If you find Ralph anywhere about, so much
the better, he can go with you; in any case you and George could manage
to get the little boat round to the White-Rock Cove, keeping in shore as
nearly as George thinks safe, and keep a sharp look-out all the way
along for your cousin.--Stay; on second thoughts Rickson shall run down
to the Cove too, in case Ralph is not to be found; you will want another
hand."
I did not need twice telling, but was off in an instant, and, breathless
with excitement, reached the lodge a few minutes after.
My story was soon told, and George lost no time in getting out the
smallest of our boats, and with Ralph, who happened, as George said, to
be fortunately "handy" on the occasion, we started upon our search. I
could not help thinking of the morning before, and its search, but the
excitement now kept up my spirits; it was something so new to be thus
suddenly dismissed from lessons, and trusted to help in what was
evidently considered a matter of some anxiety; _why_ they should be so
anxious I did not trouble myself to reflect, having little idea but that
Aleck had wandered further than he intended, and perhaps experienced
some difficulty on his way home.
We glided along quickly and pleasantly enough, past the first inlet, and
the second, from our own Cove, scrutinizing all the banks, and rocks,
and shady nooks, so familiar through many a wild exploring of ours; to
reach the third we were obliged to stand out a considerable distance to
sea, as the promontory bounding the White-Rock Cove on this side
stretched far beyond the other rocky buttresses, making one of the most
prominent land-marks in that part of the south coast. It was underneath
its shelter that we had lunched the day before, and as we passed by the
broad, flat stone in the little creek, the conversation we had had there
repeated itself again and again in my mind.
It was about half-past eleven o'clock when we had cleared this point,
and George gave the order to haul down sail.
"It's best to take to the oars now, Master Willie; we'd be a long while
at it if we tacked--Now, Ralph, pull steady--You'll be about right if
you keep her head straight for the White-Rock, Master Willie"--I was at
the helm--"ease her, ease her a bit; more to port, sir, more to
port--now steady again--now ship oars--the tide's running in pretty
fast, and will carry us in." George's commands, thus given at intervals
as we doubled the promontory and made for the Cove, alone broke silence,
until, having shipped oars, there was nothing particular for him to do,
and then all at once his tongue seemed unloosed. "Poor boy," he said,
"it would be a sad day to us all if aught has happened amiss to him, and
his parents too off in foreign parts. How cut up he was about his bit
ship yesterday, but it matters little if he is safe to-day. I mind now
he told me just afore we parted yesterday, that he thought it was quite
possible our little ship might have driven ashore here. But I hope he
hasn't been rash in trying to climb where it's dangerous even for an
active boy like him."
"He told me last night," I said, "that he meant to look all along the
shore as far as this. Papa said we were to come here just in case--"
We were getting close into shore now, and Ralph, standing up in front of
me, held his oar to push us off from the rocks until we reached our
usual place for landing. George sat facing me, so that Ralph was the
only one who was able to see well ahead at the moment. There was
something in his manner which startled me, as he bent down all at once
and simply said, "Grandfather!" George turned round in a moment, and his
short ejaculation and smothered "Oh!" confirmed me in a terrible fear
they had made some discovery, and almost at the same instant, leaning
forward, I could see my cousin lying prostrate on the beach just by the
White Rock, at the bottom of a steep part of the cliff, and scarcely a
foot from the water's edge.
I felt my knees shaking, as I tried to rise and could not; tried to
speak, and the words died on my lips; then, for a moment, buried my face
in my hands, and gasped out presently, "He's dead." I thought for a
moment that I should die too, the sense of utter, hopeless, unbearable
misery seemed so terrible.
[Illustration: THE DISCOVERY.]
George only answered, "Please the Lord, Master Willie, it may not be so
bad as that;" and hastily drawing in the boat to the rocks, he leapt
ashore, and made his way, in less time than it takes to relate, to where
my cousin was lying. Ralph and I got ashore also, but my knees trembled
so that I could not stand, but sunk down upon the rock. Ralph flung the
rope to me. "Keep her from drifting, master," he said, "and I'll run and
help grandfather."
It was a moment of terrible suspense. Groves knelt at Aleck's side, bent
his cheek down to his lips, then listened for the beating of his
heart--he might have heard mine at that minute--and then turning towards
me he exclaimed, "He's still alive!"
I had courage to move now, and fastening the rope, I came and stood by
Groves, as he knelt on the beach beside Aleck. I could scarcely believe
it was not death when I looked at the colourless face and closed eyes,
and needed all Groves' reassurance to convince me that he had not been
mistaken when he said my cousin was still alive.
"Thank God, Master Willie, we came when we did!" he added reverently,
and pointing to the waves as they washed up to our feet; "ten minutes
more, and the tide will be up over this place where he's lying. We must
move him at once--but he's deadly cold. Off with your jacket, Ralph and
put it over him, and--oh! see here!" he pointed to the arm which hung
down heavily as he gently raised the unconscious form,--"the arm's
broken."
The question now was how we were to get him home. By land it would not
be more than an hour's climb; but then a _climb_ it must be, and this
was almost impossible under the circumstances; whilst, on the other
hand, with the wind no longer in our favour, it would be a good two
hours getting back by water, and there was the anxiety of not being able
to let my father know.
Whilst George was anxiously deliberating with himself--for neither of us
boys were in a state to offer any suggestions--we looked up, and saw my
father rapidly descending the hill-side.
In another moment he stood in the midst of our little group, and had
heard how it was with my cousin. "I feared so," he said, "when I saw you
all standing together. Thank God, the child is still alive!"
There was no longer any questioning of what was best to be done. My
father was always able to decide things in a moment. "It would be too
great a risk to carry him without any stretcher. We must take him round
in the boat. How's the wind, George?"
"Not favourable, sir; we must trust more to the oars."
"Then you and Ralph must row. Willie, I think I can trust you, but
remember a great deal may depend upon your carrying your message
correctly. Run home as quickly as you can by the lower wood, it's quite
safe that way; tell mamma that Aleck is hurt, and that Rickson must go
off for Dr. Wilson in the dog-cart at once; if Dr. Wilson cannot be
found, he must bring Mr. Bryant; and James must bring down the carriage
to wait for us at the lodge. Don't frighten your mamma; tell her as
quietly and gently as you can. If you meet Mr. Glengelly, tell him
first, and he will break it to mamma. Do you quite understand?"
"Yes, papa," I replied, thankful to have something given me to do, and
yet feeling as if I were in the midst of a terrible waking dream. After
my father had taken the precaution of once again repeating his
directions, I sped off up the steep hill-side, by way of the lower wood,
towards home, whilst he gently lifted up my cousin and carried him to
the boat.
I shall never forget that walk home--_walk_ I call it, though, wherever
running was possible, I _ran_. The feeling of misery and terror that was
upon me, seemed to be mocked by the gay twittering of the birds, and the
dancing of the sunbeams through the leaves, and the familiar appearance
of the laden blackberry bushes, and copses famous for rich returns in
the nutting season. Everything in nature looking so undisturbed and
unaffected by what was filling me with grief, appeared to add to my
wretchedness. All the way along, I had the vision of my cousin's pale
face before my eyes. True, he was not dead; but, child that I was, I had
sufficient sense to know that often death followed an accident which
was not immediately fatal, and _if_ he died it would be almost as though
I had murdered him. I can remember trying hard to fancy it was a
dreadful dream, and that I should wake up, as I had done on the
preceding night, to find that my fears were all unreal; and as every
step, bringing me nearer home, made this increasingly impossible to
imagine, I changed the subject of my speculations, and took to
remembering all the dreadful things I had ever read in history or
story-books, of people dying of broken hearts, or living on and never
smiling again, and fancying it was going to be the same with me; and I
grew quite frightened, and trembled so much that I scarcely knew how to
climb up the steep bits of the path.
I was still about a quarter of a mile from the house when I met Mr.
Glengelly, who was also on the search for Aleck. It was a wonderful
relief to have some one to speak to after the long silence of the past
hour, and to be cheered up by his assurance that a broken arm was no
very formidable accident after all, and that a little severe pain, and a
few weeks invalidism, sounded very alarming, but would in reality pass
quickly by.
"Then you think, perhaps Aleck won't die," I faltered, struggling to get
breath, for the haste in which I had come had made speaking difficult.
"Die!" echoed my tutor cheerily; "why, Willie, people don't die of a
broken arm! I broke my arm when I was a little boy of twelve, and you
see I'm alive still." I smiled faintly; it was so much better than
anything I had expected to hear. "It's true," added the tutor, "that
there may be more than the broken arm, but we must hope for the best. In
the meantime, Willie, you have had enough running, you are quite out of
breath, and had better come the rest of the way quietly; I will go on
and carry out your father's directions."
When I reached home every one seemed in a bustle, and too busy to take
any notice of me. My mother indeed spared time to tell me I had been a
good brave boy to come home so fast with the message, and that I had
better go and sit quietly to rest in the school-room; but she hurried
away immediately to finish her preparations, and I found she was getting
the spare room next to her own ready for Aleck, instead of the little
room next to mine.
I had a lingering hope that Mr. Glengelly might appear in the
school-room, but he had gone down with Bennet to the lodge to see if he
could be of use when the boat came in, so that I was quite alone, and
could only watch from the half-open door the doings of the servants as
they passed to and fro, all seeming in a flutter, and as if it lay upon
them as a duty to move about, and run hither and thither, without any
particular object that I could discover.
After about an hour, the sound of wheels on the drive announced the
approach of the carriage. I sprang to my post of observation, and saw
Aleck, still deathly pale, and unconscious, carried carefully in by my
father and Mr. Glengelly, and my mother on the first landing of the
stairs, looking terribly anxious but perfectly composed, beckoning them
up, as she said to my father,--
"Everything is ready, dear, in the room next to ours."
Then they all went up-stairs, and I saw nothing more until, a few
moments later, Mr. Glengelly looked in and told me I was to go to dinner
by myself, as he was going to drive to Elmworth at once, and my parents
could not come down-stairs.
It seemed strange and forlorn to go into our large dining-room, and sit
at the table all by myself, whilst James stood behind me and changed my
plate, and handed me the dishes all in their proper order, as if I had
been grown up. I was hungry, or rather, perhaps, stood in need of food,
after the morning's exertions, but I felt quite surprised at my own
utter indifference as to _what_ I had to eat, when I had the opportunity
of an entirely free selection. I took my one help of tart, and a single
peach, without the shadow of a desire such as is common to children, and
which I should in happier times unquestionably have shared, to improve
the occasion by a little extra allowance.
I had scarcely finished when my mother came in for two or three minutes.
"Mamma," I said, running eagerly to her, "do tell me, will Aleck die?"
"My darling," she answered, "we cannot say how much he is hurt until the
doctor comes;" and she stooped down to kiss away the tears that came to
my eyes when I noticed the sad, quiet voice with which she spoke, so
unlike Mr. Glengelly's cheerful, re-assuring manner. "You must pray to
God, my child, that if it be His will he may recover, and try to cheer
up, because there is still hope the injury may not prove very serious;
we must hope for the best. I am going to bring papa up a glass of wine
and a biscuit; will you carry up the plate for me?"
Just as we were going up-stairs, she added, to comfort me,--
"Willie, my child, how thankful I feel that you had nothing to do with
the loss of the ship."
At which, observation--from her point of view, consolatory; from mine,
like a dagger-thrust--I became so convulsed with sobs, that my mother
slipped into the room where Aleck was, laid down the plate and the
wine-glass, and returning again, took me down to the school-room, and
simply devoted herself for some minutes to soothing me back into
composure. She rose to go, but I clung to her dress; "Mamma, mamma," I
entreated, "don't leave me, please don't leave me."
"I _must_ leave you, Willie," she answered, "and you must try to bear up
bravely for my sake, and for Aleck's. You will do what you can to help
in this sad time of trouble, and not add to my distress by giving way
like this. You are over-tired, I think, and had better take a book, and
stay here for the present, and lie down on the sofa and rest.
Afterwards, if you like, you can go in the garden."
I preferred remaining in the school-room; I could see the hall-door, and
up the first flight of stairs, and could hear the opening and shutting
of doors up-stairs, and occasional remarks from passers through the
hall, so that I felt less lonely than I knew I should feel in the
garden. Frisk came and sat with his fore-paws on my lap--he seemed aware
that something had gone wrong--and wagged his tail, not merrily, but
slowly and mournfully, as if to express, after his fashion, how truly he
sympathized in our distress.
At last, once again there was the sound of wheels; it was the dog-cart
this time, and Frisk threw back his head, pricked up his ears, and,
with a quick bark, darted off to sanction the arrival of the doctor with
his presence.
My father, too, was at the hall-door in an instant.
"I am thankful to see you," he said, as the doctor sprung from the
dog-cart; "you have heard the circumstances?"
"I have," answered Dr. Wilson, following my father quickly up-stairs.
"Is he still unconscious?"
The answer was lost to me; but all at once, as I thought of Dr. Wilson,
and how much depended upon his visit, the recollection of my mother's
words came back to me, "We must pray God, Willie, if it be His will
Aleck may get better;" and with a sudden impulse I jumped up, shut the
door, and kneeling down, with my head pressed upon my hands, I prayed
with a sort of intensity I had never known before: "O Lord, make Aleck
well, do make Aleck well, don't let him die,"--repeating the words over
and over again, and getting up with some dim sense of comfort in my
mind, as I thought that God had the power as much now as when in our
human nature He walked upon this world, to heal all that were ill; and
had He not said, "Ask, and you shall receive?"
Why was it that the verse which I had repeated that morning to my
mother, after breakfast, came back so often to my mind? "_If I regard
iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me._" Generally my mother
explained my daily text, but this morning, owing to the anxiety about
Aleck's disappearance, there had not been the usual time, and she had
simply heard the verse, and sent me off, as before-mentioned, to the
school-room. Now I took to explaining it for myself. What business had I
to pray with that iniquity hidden in my heart, of which no one knew but
God? How could I get forgiven? what was I to do?
Conscience took courage and put in the suggestion, "Confess boldly to
your parents the sin that is lying so heavily upon you." But then the
thought that, if Aleck never got better, they would think me his
murderer, took possession of me, and I took pains to convince myself,
against my own reason, that after all, I had not actually been guilty
of falsehood, since the real manner in which the ship had been lost was
actually guessed by my father; that it would do no good if I were to
give them the pain of knowing that I had allowed it to happen, having it
in my power to prevent it; that, after all, it would be enough to
confess to God and get forgiven.
But the reasoning, though for a time it silenced the promptings of
conscience, did not give me peace of mind; and a sense that I could not
pray--that, at least, my prayers would do no good--took from me the only
comfort that was worth thinking of.
I was so taken up with these reflections, that I never heard steps upon
the stairs, and started with an exclamation almost of fright when the
door opened rather quickly, and my father and Dr. Wilson came in.
"Why, Willie, there's nothing to be frightened at," exclaimed my father.
"Here's Dr. Wilson come to cheer us up about Aleck, who is to get quite
well by-and-by, we hope."
"Yes, yes, little man," said Dr. Wilson, kindly chucking me under the
chin, after a fashion which I have noticed prevails amongst grown-up
tall people who are amiably disposed towards children; "we shall soon
hope to bring him round again. With all your monkey-like ways of
climbing about the rocks, my only wonder is I've not had you for a
patient long ago!"
Something seemed to strike him in the face he was holding up by the
chin, and releasing me from a quick glance of inspection, he asked
presently whether I had seen Aleck, and listened to the account I had to
give of how Ralph had first noticed him lying at the foot of the rock.
Then he and my father stepped out by the window, and walked up and down
on the lawn; and I heard Dr. Wilson say to my father, "Any one can see
the boy has had a shock; take care he does not get frightened."
From the fragments of conversation which reached me,--sitting as I did
in the open window, whilst they passed by, walking up and down on the
lawn outside,--I gathered that they were discussing the possibility of
communication with Uncle and Aunt Gordon; and as they came in again
through the school-room, my father said, "You are sure that the crisis
will be over by that time?"
"Quite sure. There is nothing for it now but perfect quiet, the
administration of the medicines and cordials I have prescribed, when
possible, and close watch of all the symptoms. I can assure you I am not
without hope. You may look for me again by ten o'clock."
And so saying, Dr. Wilson drove rapidly off, and my father went back
again to Aleck's room. I think it must have been his planning, that
nurse soon afterwards came down to the school-room and bestowed her
company upon me for quite a long time, entertaining me at first, or
meaning to entertain me, by a wearisome narration about a little boy who
lived nowhere in particular a long time ago; but she wakened up all my
interest when at last, unable to keep off the subject as she had
intended, she gave me a detailed account of my cousin having been put
into the bed in the spare room; and how he had lain so still, she could
scarcely believe her senses he was not dead; and how, when Dr. Wilson
set his arm, the pain of the operation seemed to waken him up for a
moment from the stupor, but he had gone back again almost immediately.
"The doctor said," she added, "that it was the injury to the head that
was of the greatest consequence--the arm was nothing to signify, a mere
simple fracture; as if a broken arm were a mere nothing. I should like
to know whether, _if his own_ were broken, he would call it a simple
fracture, and say it didn't signify!" And nurse looked righteously
indignant, and as if she would be rather glad than otherwise for Dr.
Wilson to meet with an accident, and learn, by personal experience, the
true measure of insignificance or importance attaching to a broken limb.
Remembering, however, at this point, the inconvenience which might
result to ourselves from such a catastrophe, she retreated from the
position, and took to speculating what the doctor's views were likely to
be with reference to his night accommodation; whether he would go
"between sheets," or merely lie down on the sofa, and what motives might
be likely to influence him towards either decision; reasoning it all out
to me as if I had been grown-up.
In fact, one of the peculiar sensations which are stamped upon every
recollection of that long sad day, was that of being treated as though I
were a "person," and not a child, by almost every member of the
community; a sensation bringing with it a dim sense of glory--that might
have been--but which my guilty position kept me back from enjoying.
Both my parents came down to a sort of dinner-tea, which we had together
at about seven o'clock, and my mother stayed a little while with me
afterwards, and then sent me off, rather earlier than usual, to bed,
upon the plea of my being weary with the long, anxious day.