And, after all, they saw what they had specially come to see--a sunset
from Belême cliff.
For the day remained gray and boisterous until late in the afternoon.
They had lunched--with less exuberance than they had breakfasted--on
potatoes and salt and a thin medicinal-tasting decoction made from
breakfast's tea-leaves; they were looking forward with no undue
eagerness to potato dinner without even the palliative of medicinal
tea; and even Miss Penny acknowledged that, choice being offered her,
she would give the preference to some other vegetable for a week to
come;--when, of a sudden, the gray veil of the west opened slowly,
like the lifting of an iron curtain, and let the light behind shine
through.
And the light was as they could imagine the light of heaven--a pure
lucent yellow as of the early primrose, but diaphanous and almost
transparent, as though this, which seemed to them light, was itself in
reality but an outer veil hiding the still greater glory behind. The
curtain lifted but a span, and the lower rim of it curved in a gentle
arch from the middle of Guernsey to the filmy line of Alderney. All
below the sharp-cut rim was the sea of heavenly primrose, with here
and there a floating purple island edged with gold. All above was
sombre plum-colour flushed with rose, the edges fraying in the wind,
and floating in thin rosy streamers up the dark sky above.
The sun, larger than they had ever seen him in their lives, dropped
gently like a great brass shield from behind the dark curtain into the
sea of primrose light, and the primrose flushed with crimson over
Guernsey and with tender green and blue over Alderney.
They hastened away to Belême cliff, and then they saw what they had
hoped to see, and more;--the mighty granite frontlets of Sark all
washed with living gold--- shining from their long conflict with the
waves, and gleaming, every one, like a jewel,--from Bec-du-Nez to Moie
de Bretagne. And, out in the dimness, behind which lay Jersey, there
suddenly appeared the perfect circle of a rainbow such as none of them
had ever dreamed of--a perfect orb of the living colours of the
Promise--resting bodily on the dark sea like a gigantic iridescent
soap-bubble, glowing and pulsing and throbbing under the level beams
of the setting sun.
"Wonderful!" murmured Margaret.
"I never saw more than half a bow before," whispered Miss Penny.
"Nor I," said Graeme. "But then, you see, nothing ever was as it is
now. Things happened last night."
At which Miss Penny smiled and murmured, "Of course! That accounts for
everything. The whole world is changed."
And they watched and watched, in breathless admiration, first the
cliffs, and then the bow, and then the sun, and then the cliffs and
bow again, till the last tiny rim of the sun sank behind the dark line
of Herm, and the bow went out with a snap, and the cliffs in front
grew gray and sank back into their sleep, as the shadows crept up out
of the sea.
And, presently, the primrose sea in the clouds lost its transparent
softness and flushed with rose and carmine. The tender greens and
blues in the north deepened, and the sky above glowed crimson right
into the far east. And the sea below was like a ripe plum with a
rippling bloom upon it, and then it answered to the glow "above and
became like burnished copper. And over it, from the south end of Sark,
came a dancing white sail, at sight of which Graeme leaped to his
feet.
"The show is over," he cried, "and here comes your highnesses'
carriage."
"I wouldn't have missed it for anything," said Margaret softly, with a
rapt face still.
"It was worth living on potatoes for a month for," said Miss Penny.
"All the same, I hope Mrs. Carré will have some dinner for us when we
get home."
The boat was heading for the Pente-à-Fouaille where they had landed
the day before, and they hurried to meet it, Graeme full of misgivings
as to the embarkation, for the waves were still roaring up the rocks
in bursts of foam, though the wind had fallen somewhat.
But the boatmen knew their business, and had brought an extra hand for
its safe accomplishment. They dropped the sail and pulled round a
corner of the black rock. Then, while two of them kept the boat from
destruction, the other stood and Graeme dropped the girls one by one
into his arms, and was a very thankful man when he tumbled in himself,
all in a heap, and wiped the big drops of sweat from his brow.
A stroke or two with the oars and they were plunging back through the
hissing white caps, but not, as he had expected, to Havre Gosselin.
"Where to?" he shouted to the blue-guernseyed stalwart nearest him.
"Grande Grève. We couldn' beach in Havre Gosselin, and mebbe the
leddies wouldn' like to climb the ladders," with a grin at the
leddies.
"Not much!" said Miss Penny. "Margaret, my dear, prepare yourself! I'm
going to be sick if this goes on much longer."
But before she had time to be sick they had rounded the shoulder of
Port-és-Saies, and their boat's nose ran up the soft sand of a low
tide in Grande Grève, and the green waves came curling exultantly in
over the stern. The men leaped out and hauled bravely, and in a moment
the girls were ashore.
"Couldn' get back nohow last night, sir. 'Twould a bin as much as our
lives were worth. Hope ye didn' starve," said the spokesman with
another genial grin.
"No, we didn't expect you. We dug potatoes and cooked them. Here you
are, and thanks for coming as soon as you could," and, from their
smiling faces, their reward without doubt covered not only that which
they had actually done but that also which they had unwittingly helped
to do.
The boat shoved off and made for its own anchorage, and Graeme led the
girls up the toilsome path to the Coupée.
It was after nine when they reached the cottage, and the first thing
they saw was Johnnie Vautrin sitting in the hedge opposite, with
Marielihou licking her lips alongside.
"I just seen seven crows," cried Johnnie gleefully.
"Little rascal! You dream crows," said Graeme, whose desires at the
moment ran to something more palatable and satisfying.
"And what do seven crows mean, Johnnie?" asked Margaret.
"Seven crows means everything's oll right!"
"Clever boy! You see just what you want to see," said Graeme, and then
Mrs. Carré appeared at the door of the cottage.
"Ah then, here you are!" she said, with a large welcoming smile. "And
the dinner I haf been keeping for you for an hour an' more."
"You're a good angel, Mrs. Carré," said Graeme gratefully. "We are a
bit late, aren't we? I hope you've put yesterday's dinner and to-day's
together. We've had nothing to eat to speak of for a month. What did
you think when we never turned up last night?"
"Oh, but I knew you would be all right. There iss a house on Brecqhou,
and there iss watter, and you had things to eat, and it was better on
Brecqhou last night than on the watter."
"It was," said Graeme heartily, and sped off up the garden for a
much-needed wash and brush-up.