We have no intention of carrying our reader on step by step through all
the adventures and deeds of Charlie Brooke. It is necessary to hasten
over his boyhood, leaving untold the many battles fought, risks run, and
dangers encountered.
He did not cut much of a figure at the village school--though he did his
best, and was fairly successful--but in the playground he reigned
supreme. At football, cricket, gymnastics, and, ultimately, at
swimming, no one could come near him. This was partly owing to his
great physical strength, for, as time passed by he shot upwards and
outwards in a way that surprised his companions and amazed his mother,
who was a distinctly little woman--a neat graceful little woman--with,
like her stalwart son, a modest opinion of herself.
As a matter of course, Charlie's school-fellows almost worshipped him,
and he was always so willing to help and lead them in all cases of
danger or emergency, that "Charlie to the rescue!" became quite a
familiar cry on the playground. Indeed it would have been equally
appropriate in the school, for the lad never seemed to be so thoroughly
happy as when he was assisting some boy less capable than himself to
master his lessons.
About the time that Charlie left school, while yet a stripling, he had
the shoulders of Samson, the chest of Hercules, and the limbs of Apollo.
He was tall also--over six feet--but his unusual breadth deceived
people as to this till they stood close to him. Fair hair, close and
curly, with bright blue eyes and a permanent look of grave benignity,
completes our description of him.
Rowing, shooting, fishing, boxing, and swimming seemed to come naturally
to him, and all of them in a superlative degree. Swimming was, perhaps,
his most loved amusement and in this art he soon far outstripped his
friend Leather. Some men are endowed with exceptional capacities in
regard to water. We have seen men go into the sea warm and come out
warmer, even in cold weather. Experience teaches that the reverse is
usually true of mankind in northern regions, yet we once saw a man enter
the sea to all appearance a white human being, after remaining in it
upwards of an hour, and swimming away from shore; like a vessel outward
bound, he came back at last the colour of a boiled lobster!
Such exceptional qualities did Charlie Brooke possess. A South Sea
Islander might have envied but could not have excelled him.
It was these qualities that decided the course of his career just after
he left school.
"Charlie," said his mother, as they sat eating their mid-day meal alone
one day--the mother being, as we have said, a widow, and Charlie an only
child--"what do you think of doing, now that you have left school? for
you know my income renders it impossible that I should send you to
college."
"I don't know what to think, mother. Of course I intend to do
something. If you had only influence with some one in power who could
enable a fellow to get his foot on the first round of any sort of
ladder, something might be done, for you know I'm not exactly useless,
though I can't boast of brilliant talents, but--"
"Your talents are brilliant enough, Charlie," said his mother,
interrupting; "besides, you have been sent into this world for a
purpose, and you may be sure that you will discover what that purpose
is, and receive help to carry it out if you only ask God to guide you.
Not otherwise," she added, after a pause.
"Do you _really_ believe, mother, that _every_ one who is born into the
world is sent for a purpose, and with a specific work to do?"
"I do indeed, Charlie."
"What! all the cripples, invalids, imbeciles, even the very infants who
are born to wail out their sad lives in a few weeks, or even days?"
"Yes--all of them, without exception. To suppose the opposite, and
imagine that a wise, loving, and almighty Being would create anything
for _no_ purpose seems to me the very essence of absurdity. Our only
difficulty is that we do not always see the purpose. All things are
ours, but we must ask if we would have them."
"But I _have_ asked, mother," said the youth, with an earnest flush on
his brow. "You know I have done so often, yet a way has not been opened
up. I believe in _your_ faith, mother, but I don't quite believe in my
own. There surely must be something wrong--a screw loose somewhere."
He laid down his knife and fork, and looked out at the window with a
wistful, perplexed expression.
"How I wish," he continued, "that the lines had been laid down for the
human race more distinctly, so that we could not err!"
"And yet," responded his mother, with a peculiar look, "such lines as
_are_ obviously laid down we don't always follow. For instance, it is
written, `Ask, and it shall be given you,' and we stop there, but the
sentence does not stop: `Seek, and ye shall find' implies care and
trouble; `Knock, and it shall be opened unto you' hints at perseverance,
does it not?"
"There's something in that, mother," said Charlie, casting another
wistful glance out of the window. "Come, I will go out and `seek'! I
see Shank Leather waiting for me. We agreed to go to the shore
together, for we both like to watch the waves roaring in on a breezy day
like this."
The youth rose and began to encase his bulky frame in a great
pilot-cloth coat, each button of which might have done duty as an
afternoon tea-saucer.
"I wish you would choose any companion to walk with but young Leather,"
said the widow, with a sigh. "He's far too like his father to do you
any good."
"Mother, would you have me give up an old playmate and school-fellow
because he is not perfect?" asked the youth in grave tones as he tied on
a sou'-wester.
"Well, no--not exactly, but--"
Not having a good reason ready, the worthy woman only smiled a
remonstrance. The stalwart son stooped, kissed her and was soon
outside, battling with the storm--for what he styled a breezy day was in
reality a wild and stormy one.
Long before the period we have now reached Mrs Brooke had changed her
residence to the sea-coast in the small town of Sealford. Her cottage
stood in the centre of the village, about half-a-mile from the shore,
and close to that of her bosom friend, Mrs Leather, who had migrated
along with her, partly to be near her and partly for the sake of her son
Shank, who was anxious to retain the companionship of his friend Brooke.
Partly, also, to get her tippling husband away from old comrades and
scenes, in the faint hope that she might rescue him from the great curse
of his life.
When Charlie went out, as we have said, he found that Shank had brought
his sister May with him. This troubled our hero a good deal, for he had
purposed having a confidential talk with his old comrade upon future
plans and prospects, to the accompaniment of the roaring sea, and a
third party was destructive of such intention. Besides, poor May,
although exceedingly unselfish and sweet and good, was at that
transition period of life when girlhood is least attractive--at least to
young men: when bones are obtrusive, and angles too conspicuous, and the
form generally is too suggestive of flatness and longitude; while
shyness marks the manners, and inexperience dwarfs the mind. We would
not, however, suggest for a moment that May was ugly. By no means, but
she had indeed reached what may be styled a plain period of life--a
period in which some girls become silently sheepish, and others
tomboyish; May was among the former, and therefore a drag upon
conversation. But, after all, it mattered little, for the rapidly
increasing gale rendered speech nearly impossible.
"It's too wild a day for you, May," said Brooke, as he shook hands with
her; "I wonder you care to be out."
"She _doesn't_ care to be out, but I wanted her to come, and she's a
good obliging girl, so she came," said Shank, drawing her arm through
his as they pressed forward against the blast in the direction of the
shore.
Shank Leather had become a sturdy young fellow by that time, but was
much shorter than his friend. There was about him, however, an
unmistakable look of dissipation--or, rather, the beginning of it--which
accounted for Mrs Brooke's objection to him as a companion for her son.
We have said that the cottage lay about half-a-mile from the shore,
which could be reached by a winding lane between high banks. These
effectually shut out the view of the sea until one was close to it,
though, at certain times, the roar of the waves could be heard even in
Sealford itself.
Such a time was the present, for the gale had lashed the sea into
wildest fury, and not only did the three friends hear it, as, with bent
heads, they forced their way against the wind, but they felt the foam of
ocean on their faces as it was carried inland sometimes in lumps and
flakes. At last they came to the end of the lane, and the sea, lashed
to its wildest condition, lay before them like a sheet of tortured foam.
"Grand! isn't it?" said Brooke, stopping and drawing himself up for a
moment, as if with a desire to combat the opposing elements.
If May Leather could not speak, she could at all events gaze, for she
had superb brown eyes, and they glittered, just then, like glowing
coals, while a wealth of rippling brown hair was blown from its
fastenings, and flew straight out behind her.
"Look! look there!" shouted her brother with a wild expression, as he
pointed to a part of the rocky shore where a vessel was dimly seen
through the drift.
"She's trying to weather the point," exclaimed Brooke, clearing the
moisture from his eyes, and endeavouring to look steadily.
"She'll never weather it. See! the fishermen are following her
along-shore," cried young Leather, dropping his sister's arm, and
bounding away.
"Oh! don't leave me behind, Shank," pleaded May.
Shank was beyond recall, but our hero, who had also sprung forward,
heard the pleading voice and turned back.
"Here, hook on to me," he cried quickly, for he was in no humour to
delay.
The girl grasped his arm at once, and, to say truth, she was not much of
a hindrance, for, although somewhat inelegant, as we have said, she was
lithe as a lizard and fleet as a young colt.
A few minutes brought them to the level shore where Brooke left May to
shelter herself with some fisher-women behind a low wall, while he ran
along to a spot where a crowd of fishermen and old salts, enveloped in
oil-skins, were discussing the situation as they leaned against the
shrieking wind.
"Will she weather it, Grinder, think you?" he asked of an elderly man,
whose rugged features resembled mahogany, the result of having bid
defiance to wind and weather for nigh half a century.
"She may, Mr Brooke, an' she mayn't," answered the matter-of-fact man
of the sea, in the gruff monotone with which he would have summoned all
hands to close reef in a hurricane. "If her tackle holds she'll do it.
If it don't she won't."
"We've sent round for the rocket anyhow," said a smart young fisherman,
who seemed to rejoice in opposing his broad chest to the blast, and in
listening to the thunder of the waves as they rolled into the exposed
bay in great battalions, chasing each other in wild tumultuous fury, as
if each were bent on being first in the mad assault upon the shore.
"Has the lifeboat coxswain been called?" asked Charlie, after a few
minutes' silence, for the voice of contending elements was too great to
render converse easy or agreeable.
"Yes, sir," answered the man nearest to him, "but she's bin called to a
wreck in Mussel Bay, an' that brig will be all right or in Davy Jones's
locker long afore th' lifeboat 'ud fetch round here."
Silence again fell on the group as they gazed out to sea, pushing
eagerly down the beach until they were ankle-deep in the foam of each
expended wave; for the brig was by that time close on the point of
rocks, staggering under more sail than she could carry with safety.
"She'll do it!" exclaimed the smart young fisherman, ready to cheer with
enthusiastic hope.
"Done for! Lost!" cried one, while something like a groan burst from
the others as they saw the brig's topmasts go over the side, and one of
her sails blown to ribbons. She fell away towards the rocks at once.
Like great black teeth these rocks seemed to leap in the midst of the
foam, as if longing to grasp the ill-fated vessel, which had, indeed,
all but weathered the dangerous point, and all might have been well if
her gear had only held; but now, as if paralysed, she drifted into the
bay where certain destruction awaited her.
Just at that moment a great cheer arose, for the rocket-cart, drawn by
the men of the Coast-Guard, was seen rattling over the downs towards
them.
Anxiety for the fate of the doomed brig was now changed into eager hope
for the rescue of her crew. The fishermen crowded round the Coast-Guard
men as they ran the cart close down to the water's edge, and some of
them--specially the smart young fellow already mentioned--made eager
offer of their services. Charlie Brooke stood aloof, looking on with
profound interest, for it was the first time he had ever seen the Manby
rocket apparatus brought into action. He made no hasty offer to assist,
for he was a cool youth--even while burning with impatient enthusiasm--
and saw at a glance that the men of the Coast-Guard were well able to
manage their own affairs and required no aid from him.
As the brig was coming straight in they could easily calculate where she
would strike, so that the rocket men could set up their triangle and
arrange their tackle without delay. This was fortunate, for the wreck
was carried shoreward with great rapidity. She struck at last when
within a short distance of the beach, and the faces of those on board
could be distinctly seen, and their cries heard, as both masts snapped
off and were swept over the side, where they tore at the shrouds like
wild creatures, or charged the hulk like battering-rams. Instantly the
billows that had borne the vessel on their crests burst upon her sides,
and spurted high in air over her, falling back on her deck, and sweeping
off everything that was moveable. It could be seen that only three or
four men were on deck, and these kept well under the lee of the bulwarks
near the stern where they were strongest.
"No passengers, I think," said one of the fishermen; "no women, anyhow."
"Not likely they'd be 'lowed on deck even if there was," growled
Grinder, in his monotone.
"Now, then, out o' the way," cried the leader of the Coast-Guard men, as
he laid a rocket in its place. "Line all clear, Fred?"
"All clear."
Next moment there was a burst of flame, a crash, and a vicious whizz as
the powerful projectile leaped from its stand and sped out to sea, in
grand defiance of the opposing gale, with its light line behind it.
A cheer marked its flight, but a groan told of its descent into the
boiling sea, considerably to the left of the wreck.
"_What_ a pity!" cried Shank Leather, who had come close to his friend
when the rocket-cart arrived.
"No matter," said Brooke, whose compressed lips and flashing eyes told
of deep but suppressed feelings. "There are more rockets."
He was right. While he was speaking, another rocket was placed and
fired. It was well directed, but fell short. Another, and yet another,
rose and fell, but failed to reach its mark, and the remainder of the
rockets refused to go off from some unknown cause--either because they
had been too long in stock or had become damp.
Meantime the brig was tossed farther and farther in, until she stuck
quite fast. Then it became evident that she must soon break up, and her
crew perish. Hasty plans and eager advice were proposed and given.
Then the smart young fisherman suddenly sprang forward, and threw off
his oil-coat and sou'-wester.
"Here! hold on!" he cried, catching up the end of the rocket line, and
fastening it round his waist, while he kicked off his heavy boots.
"You can't do it, Bill," cried some.
"Too far to swim," cried others.
"The seas 'll knock the life out o' ye," said Grinder, "afore you're
clear o' the sand."
Despite these warnings the brave young fellow dashed into the foam, and
plunged straight into the first mighty breaker that towered over his
head. But he was too much excited to act effectively. He failed to
time his plunge well. The wave fell upon him with a roar and crushed
him down. In a few seconds he was dragged ashore almost insensible.
Example, whether good or bad, is infectious. Another strapping young
fellow, stirred to emulation, ran forward, and, seizing the rope, tied
it round his own waist, while they helped poor Bill up the beach and
seated him on a sand-bank.
The second youth was more powerful than the first--and cooler. He made
a better attempt, but only got past the first wave, when his comrades,
seeing that he was exhausted, drew him back. Then a third--a broad
burly youth--came forward.
At this point the soul of Shank Leather took fire, for he was by no
means destitute of generous impulses, and he tried to get hold of the
rope.
"Out o' the way," cried the burly youth, giving Leather a rough push
that almost sent him on his back; "we don't want no land-lubbers for
this kind o' work."
Up to this point Charlie Brooke, although burning with eager desire to
take some active part in the rescue, had restrained himself and held
back, believing, with characteristic modesty, that the fishermen knew
far better than he did how to face the sea and use their appliances; but
when he saw his friend stagger backward, he sprang to the front, caught
hold of the line, and, seizing the burly fisherman by the arm,
exclaimed, "You'll let _this_ land-lubber try it, anyhow," and sent him
spinning away like a capsized nine-pin.
There was a short laugh, as well as a cheer at this; but next moment all
were gazing at the sea in breathless anxiety, for Brooke had rushed deep
into the surf. He paused one moment, as the great wave curled over him,
then went through it head-first with such force that he shot waist-high
out of the sea on the other side. His exceptional swimming-powers now
served him well, for his otter-like rapidity of action enabled him to
avoid the crushing billows either by diving through them at the right
moment, or holding back until they fell, and left him only the mad
swirling foam to contend with. This last was bad enough, but here his
great muscular strength and his inexhaustible caloric, with his
cork-like power of flotation, enabled him to hold his own without
exhaustion until another opportunity of piercing an unbroken wave
offered. Thus he gradually forced his way through and beyond the worst
breakers, which are always those nearest shore. Had any one been close
to him, and able calmly to watch his movements, it would have been seen
that, great as were the youth's powers, he did not waste them in useless
battling with a force against which no man could effectively contend;
that, with a cool head, he gave way to every irresistible force,
swimming for a moment, as it were, with the current--or, rather,
floating easily in the whirlpools--so as to conserve his strength; that,
ever and anon, he struck out with all his might, rushing through foam
and wave like a fish, and that, in the midst of it all, he saw and
seized the brief moments in which he could take a gasping inhalation.
Those who watched him with breathless anxiety on shore saw little of all
this as they paid out the line or perched themselves on tiptoe on the
few boulders that here and there strewed the sand.
"Haul him back!" shouted the man who was farthest out on the line.
"He's used up!"
"No, he's not, I know him well!" roared Shank Leather. "Pay out, men--
pay out line!"
"Ay, ease away," said Grinder, in a thunderous growl. "He's a rigler
walrus, he is. Niver see'd sich a feller since I left the southern
seas. Ease away, boys."
A cheer followed his remark, for at that moment it was seen that our
hero had reached the tail of the eddy which was caused by the hull of
the wreck, and that one of her crew had darted from the cover of the
vessel's bulwarks and taken shelter under the stump of the mainmast.
His object was seen in a moment, for he unhooked a coil of rope from the
belaying-pins, and stood ready to heave it to the approaching swimmer.
In making even this preparation the man ran very great risk, for the
stump was but a partial shelter--each wave that burst over the side
sweeping wildly round it and leaping on the man higher than his waist,
so that it was very difficult for him to avoid being torn from his
position.
Charlie's progress was now comparatively easy. A few vigorous strokes
brought him under the lea of the wreck, which, however, was by no means
a quiet spot, for each divided wave, rushing round bow and stern, met
there in a tumult of foam that almost choked the swimmer, while each
billow that burst over the wreck poured a small Niagara on his head.
How to get on board in such circumstances was a subject that had
troubled Charlie's mind as he drew near, but the action of the sailor
unhooking the coil of rope at once relieved him. The moment he came
within reach, the sailor, watching his opportunity between waves, threw
out the coil. It was aimed by an accustomed hand and fell on the
rescuer's head. Another minute and young Brooke stood on the deck.
Without waiting an instant he leaped under the shelter of the stump of
the mainmast beside the seaman. He was only just in time, for a wave
burst in thunder on the weather side of the quivering brig, and, pouring
over the bulwarks, almost dragged him from the belaying-pins to which he
clung.
The instant the strain was off, he passed a rope round his waist and
gave the end of it to the sailor.
"Here, make it fast," he said, beginning to haul with all his might on
the line which he had brought from shore. "You're the skipper--eh?"
"Yes. Don't waste your breath in speech. I know what to do. All's
ready."
These few words were an unspeakable relief to our hero, who was well
aware that the working of the rocket apparatus required a slight amount
of knowledge, and who felt from his manner and tone that the skipper was
a thorough man. He glanced upwards as he hauled in the line, assisted
by his companion, and saw that a stout rope with two loops on it had
been fixed to the stump of the mast. Just as he noted this with
satisfaction a large block with a thin line rove through it emerged from
the boiling sea. It had been attached by the men on shore to the rocket
line which Charlie had been hauling out with so much energy. Its name
was indicated by the skipper.
"Here comes the _whip_," he cried, catching hold of the block when it
reached him. "Hold me up, lad, while I make it fast to them loops."
While Charlie obeyed he saw that by fixing the tail-lines of the block
quickly to the loops prepared for them, instead of winding them round
the mast,--a difficult process in such a sea--much time was saved.
"There, _our_ part o' the job is done now," said the skipper, pulling
off his sou'-wester as he spoke and holding it up as a signal to the men
on shore.
Meanwhile those to whom he signalled had been watching every movement
with intense eagerness, and with the expressions of men whose gaze has
to penetrate with difficulty through a haze of blinding spray.
"They've got the block now," cried one man.
"Does that young feller know about fixin' of it?" asked another.
"Clap a stopper on your mugs; they're a-fixin' of it now," said old
Grinder. "There's the signal! Haul away, lads!"
We must explain here that the "whip" above mentioned was a double or
endless line, passing through the block which had been hauled out to the
wreck by our hero.
By means of this whip one end of a stout cable was sent off to the
wreck, and on this cable a sling-lifebuoy was hung to a pulley and also
run out to the wreck. The working of the apparatus, though simple
enough to seamen, would entail a complicated, perhaps incomprehensible,
description to landsmen: we therefore pass it by with the remark that,
connection with the shore having been established, and the
sling-lifebuoy--or life-saving machine--run out, the crew received it
with what was meant for a hearty cheer, but which exhaustion modified to
a feeble shout.
"Now, lads," cried the skipper to his men, "look sharp! Let out the
passengers."
"Passengers?" exclaimed Charlie Brooke in surprise.
"Ay--my wife an' little gurl, two women and an old gentleman. You don't
suppose I'd keep 'em on deck to be washed overboard?"
As he spoke two of the men opened the doors of the companion-hatch, and
caught hold of a little girl of about five years of age, who was handed
up by a woman.
"Stay! keep her under cover till I get hold of her," cried the skipper.
As he was passing from the mast to the companion a heavy sea burst over
the bulwarks, and swept him into the scuppers. The same wave wrenched
the child from the grasp of the man who held it and carried it right
overboard. Like an eel, rather than a man, Charlie cleft the foam close
behind her, caught her by the skirt and bore her to the surface, when a
few strokes of his free arm brought him close under the lee of the wreck
just in time to prevent the agonised father from leaping after his
child. There was terrible suspense for a few minutes. At one moment
our hero, with his burden held high aloft, was far down in the hollow of
the watery turmoil, with the black hull like a great wall rising above
him, while the skipper in the main-chains, pale as death but sternly
silent held on with his left hand and reached down with his right--every
finger rigid and ready! Next moment a water-spout, so to speak, bore
the rescuer upward on its crest, but not near enough--they went downward
again. Once more the leaping water surged upwards; the skipper's strong
hand closed like the grip of death on the dress, and the child was safe
while its rescuer sank away from it.
"Help him!" shouted the skipper, as he staggered to the shelter of the
companion.
But Charlie required no help. A loose rope hanging over the side caught
his eye: he seized it and was on deck again in a few seconds. A minute
later and he was down in the cabin.
There, terror-stricken, sat the skipper's wife, never venturing to move,
because she had been told to remain there till called. Happily she knew
nothing of the incident just described.
Beside her sat the other women, and, near to them, a stern old
gentleman, who, with compressed lips, quietly awaited orders.
"Come, quick!" said Charlie, grasping by the arm one of the women.
It was the skipper's wife. She jumped up right willingly and went on
deck. There she found her child already in the life-buoy, and was
instantly lifted in beside it by her husband, who looked hastily round.
"Come here, Dick," he said to a little cabin-boy who clung to a
stanchion near by. "Get in."
The boy looked surprised, and drew back.
"Get in, I say," repeated the skipper sternly.
"There's more women, sir," said the boy, still holding back.
"True--brave lad! but you're wanted to keep these from getting washed
out. I am too heavy, you know."
The boy hesitated no longer. He squeezed himself into the machine
beside the woman and child.
Then up at arm's-length went the skipper's sou'-wester as a signal that
all was ready, and the fishermen began to haul the life-buoy to the
shore.
It was an awful trip! Part of the distance, indeed, the trio were borne
along well out of the sea, though the waves leaped hungrily up and sent
spray over them, but as they drew near the shore they were dipped again
and again into the foam, so that the little cabin boy needed all his
energy and knowledge, as well as his bravery and strength, to prevent
his charge being washed out. Amid ringing cheers from the fishermen--
and a treble echo from the women behind the wall--they were at last
safely landed.
"My lass, that friend o' your'n be a braave cheeld," said an old woman
to May Leather, who crouched beside her.
"Ay, _that_ he is!" exclaimed May, with a gush of enthusiasm in tone and
eyes that made them all turn to look at her.
"Your brother?" asked a handsome, strapping young woman.
"No--I wish he was!"
"Hm! ha!" exclaimed the strapping young woman--whereat there was
exchanged a significant laugh; but May took no notice of it, being too
deeply engrossed with the proceedings on shore and sea.
Again the fishermen ran out the life-buoy and soon hauled it back with
another woman; then a third. After that came the old gentleman, quite
self-possessed and calm, though very pale and dishevelled; and,
following him, the crew, one by one, were rescued. Then came the hero
of the hour, and last of all, as in duty bound, the skipper--not much
too soon, for he had barely reached the land when the brig was
overwhelmed and engulfed in the raging sea.