"I've been thinking a good deal about it, and I really don't see any
reason why we should wait,"--said Graeme, looking at Margaret.
And Miss Penny said "Hear! Hear!" so energetically that Margaret
laughed merrily.
"We are both of one mind in the matter, an life is all too short at
its longest, and most especially when it offers you all its very best
with both hands--"
"Hear! _Hear_!" said Miss Penny.
"And time is fleeting," concluded the orator.
"And that kettle is boiling over again," and Miss Penny jumped up and
ran to the rescue.
They were spending a long day in Grande Grève--the spot that had
special claims upon their liking since their landing there after that
memorable trip to Brecqhou. They had brought a full day's rations,
prepared with solicitous discrimination by Graeme himself, and a
kettle, and a great round tin can of fresh water from the well at
Dixcart, and a smaller one of milk.
So high were their spirits that they had even scoffed at Johnnie
Vautrin's intimation that he had seen a magpie that morning, and it
had flown over their house. But magpie or no magpie they were bent on
enjoyment, and they left Johnnie and Marielihou muttering black spells
into the hawthorn hedge, and went off with the dogs down the scented
lanes, through the valley where the blue-bells draped the hillsides in
such masses that they walked as it were between a blue heaven and a
blue earth, and so by the meadow-paths to the Coupée.
Their descent of the rough path down the side of the Coupée with all
this impedimenta had not been without incident, but eventually every
thing and person had been got to the bottom in safety.
Then, while the dogs raced in the lip of the tide and Scamp filled the
bay with his barkings, the girls had disappeared among the tumbled
rocks under the cliff, and Graeme had sought seclusion at the other
end of the bay. And presently they had met again on the gleaming
stretch of sand; he in orthodox tight-fitting dark-blue elastic web
which set off his long limbs and broad shoulders to great advantage;
Hennie Penny in pale blue, her somewhat plump figure redeemed by the
merry face which recognised all its owner's deficiencies and more than
made up for them all; Margaret, tall, slim, shapely, revealing fresh
graces with every movement,--a sea-goddess in pale pink--a sight to
set the heart of a marble statue plunging with delight.
Hennie Penny persisted in wearing an unbecoming cap like a sponge-bag,
which subjected her to comment.
Margaret's crowning glory was coiled in thick plaits on top of her
head, and if it got wet it got wet and she heeded it not.
Both girls had draped themselves in long towels for the walk down to
the water, and Graeme's heart sang with joy at the surpassing beauty
of this radiant girl who had given her heart and herself and her life
into his keeping.
Dainty clothing counts for much in a girl's appearance. Not every
girl shows to advantage in bathing costume. But when she does, she
knows it, and the hearts of men are her stepping-stones.
Hennie Penny was a cautious swimmer. She preferred depths soundable at
any moment by the dropping of a foot, and if the foot did not
instantly touch bottom she fell into a panic and screamed, which added
not a little to the hilarity of their bathes.
Margaret and Graeme, however, were both at home in the water. They
delighted to set their faces to the open and breast steadily out to
sea, rejoicing in the conquest of the waves. But he always watched
over her with solicitous care, for there are currents, and
cross-currents, and treacherous undertows round those coasts, and the
wary swimmer is the wiser man.
And the dogs always swam with them, Punch lunging boldly ahead with
the ease and grace of a seal, looking round now and again to see if
they were coming, and turning the moment they turned. While Scamp,
away in the rear, thrashed along spasmodically, with a yelp for every
stroke, but would not be left out of it. The sight of his anxious
little face and twisting nose more than once set Margaret laughing, so
that she had to turn on her back and float till she got over it,
greatly to the small dog's satisfaction.
Full of life and the mighty joy of it, they found the going unusually
easy that day. The water was like the kiss of new life, crisp, tonic,
vitalising. There was no more than a breath of wind, no more than a
ruffle on the backs of the long blue rollers that came sweeping slowly
in out of the West.
Graeme, as he glanced round in his long side-strokes at the lovely
eager face gemmed with sparkling water-jewels, took full deep breaths
of delight and gratitude to the All-Goodness that had vouchsafed him
such a prize.
The kiss of the life-giving water had induced a tender flush of colour
in the soft white neck, as though the pink of her bathing-suit had
spread upwards. He could see the pulsing blue veins in neck and temple
as she rose to her stroke. A tiny tendril of water-darkened hair
lifted and fell on her neck like a filament of seaweed on a polished
rock. Her eyes were very bright, and seemed larger than usual with the
strenuous joy of it all. The wonder of her beauty absorbed him. He
could hardly turn his face from it. He would have been content to go
on swimming so for ever.
But, glancing past the sweet face one time, he saw that they had gone
farther than he knew, and Scamp had turned long since and was yelping
towards the shore.
"Better turn now," he said quietly, and she floated for a moment's
rest, then turned and they headed for the shore, and Punch passed them
noiselessly.
They ploughed along in good cheer for a time, and then, of a sudden,
it seemed to him that they were making but poor progress.
He fixed his eyes on a rock on the shore and swam steadily on.
They had been opposite it. Twenty strokes, and the rock, instead of
facing them, had swung slowly to the north. They were making less than
no progress. They were drifting. They were in the grip of a current
that was carrying them towards the black fangs of Pointe la Joue.
A cold sweat broke out among the sea-drops on his brow. Pointe la Joue
is an ill place to land, even if they could make it, and the chances
were that the current would carry them past.
How to tell her without undue upsetting? A panic might bring disaster.
He looked round at her. The bright face was high and resolute. She was
not aware of the danger, but from that look on her face he did not
think she would go to pieces when he told her.
The rock he had been watching stood now at an angle to their course.
"Are you tired, Meg?" he asked.
"I'm all right."
"Turn on your back and float for a minute or two," and he set the
example, and Punch saw and came slipping back to them.
"We're in a cross current," he said quietly. "And we're making no
way--"
"I know. I was watching a rock on the shore. What's the best thing to
do?"
"We'll rest for a few minutes and then go with the tide round Pointe
la Joue. We can land in Vermandés. You're not cold, are you?"
"Not a bit."
When he lifted his head the Coupée was shortened to a span, and the
southern headland folded over it as he looked. They were drifting as
fast as a man could walk at his fastest. They were abreast the black
rocks of La Joue.
"Now, dearest, a little spurt and we shall be in the slack. If you get
tired, tell me," and they struck out vigorously on a shoreward slant
in the direction they were going.
There should have been a backwater round the corner of Vermandés. He
had counted on it. And there was one, but so swift was the rush of the
tide round the out-jutting rocks of La Joue, that for some minutes, as
they battled with the rough edge of it, it was touch and go with them.
At a word from her his arm would be at her service. But she fought
bravely on, and could admire Punch's graceful action even then. The
waves smacked her rudely in the face. Great writhing coils came
belching up from below and burst under her chin and almost swamped
her. One, as strong as a snake, rose suddenly under her, flung her off
her stroke, rolled her over, made her for a moment feel utterly
helpless.
"Jock!"
He had been watching her closely. His arm flashed out in front of her.
"Grip!" and she hung on to it and it felt like a bar of steel.
"Now!"--when she had recovered herself somewhat. "Grip the top of my
suit."--She hooked her fingers into it and he struck out through the
turmoil.
It was a tough little fight. She struck out vigorously behind to help
him. And, though the losing of the fight might mean tragedy and two
white bodies ragging forlornly along the black teeth of Little Sark,
she still had time to notice the mighty play of muscles in his back
and arms, and the swelling veins in his sunburnt neck, and the crisp
rippled hair above, and she rejoiced mightily in him. And--while
possible deaths lurked all about them--her soul grew large within her
at thought of the brave heart in front, and the strenuous will, and
the shapely body, and the powerful muscles--all battling for her--all
hers--and she theirs. What matter if they were beaten, if they but
went out together! What matter Death so long as he did not divide
them! So uplifted was she with the joy of him.
And then, with a final wrestle, they were in slack water, and she
loosed her hold and struck out alongside him.
And presently he was helping her carefully up a seamed black rock,
and the hand she gripped was shaking now, and she knew it was not for
himself.
"Thank God!" said Graeme fervently, as he sank down heavily beside
her, and panted while the water ran out of them, and Punch scrambled
up and lay quietly alongside. "Meg,--we were in peril."
"Jock," she said jerkily, for her heart was going now quicker than
usual, "I do not believe I would have minded--if we'd gone together."
"Ay--together, but, God be thanked, it did not come to that!"
They sat in silence for a time, finding themselves, while the green
seas swelled up to their feet, and sank out of sight below, and their
rock was laced with cascades of creamy foam.
"How shall we get back?" asked Margaret at last. "Hennie will be in
desperation. She will think we are drowned."
"We can climb the head and round into Grande Grève, but it would be
pretty rough on the feet. Or we can wait till the tide turns and swim
in again--"
"When will it turn?"
"It's full at noon," he said, studying the waters in front. "But how
that affects matters here none but a Sarkman could say. Tides here are
a law unto themselves, like the people."
"How would that do?" asked Margaret, as a black boat came slowly
round the rocks from Les Fontaines, sculled by an elderly fisherman.
"It is old Billy Mollet after his lobster-pots," and he stood up and
coo-eed to the new-comer, and waved his arms till Billy saw them and
stared hard and then turned leisurely their way.
"Guyablle!" said the old man, as he drew in. "What you doin' there
now?"
"Got carried out of Grande Grève by a current, Mr. Mollet. Will you
take us back in your boat?"
"Ay, ay!" and he brought the boat as near to the rock as he dared, and
his weather-stained old eyes settled hypnotically on the fairest
burden his old tub had ever carried, as Graeme handed her carefully
down and helped her to spring into the dancing craft, and then sprang
in himself with bleeding feet and shins, while Punch leaped lightly
after him and crawled under a thwart.
"Ye must ha' been well out for tide to catch ye," said Billy, with no
eyes for anything but the vision in clinging pink.
"Yes, we were too far out and couldn't get back."
"Tide runs round them rocks."
He dropped his oar into the rowlock and Graeme took the other, and in
five minutes they were speeding across the sands of Grande
Grève--Margaret to cover, Graeme to his pocket for Billy's reward.
Miss Penny had a driftwood fire roaring among the rocks, and the
kettle was boiling.
"Where on earth have you two been?" she cried, at sight of Margaret
skipping over the stones to her dressing-room, and got only the wave
of a white arm in reply.
And presently Graeme came along in easy piratical costume of shirt and
trousers and red sash, and sat down and lit a pipe.
"We went a bit farther than we intended," he explained, but did not
tell her how nearly they had gone out of bounds altogether.
"You'll enjoy a cup of tea. You look as if you'd been working hard."
"There is a bit of a current round that point."
"Ah, you should follow a good example and keep within touch of the
bottom. Here you are, Meg--fresh made for every customer. Help
yourself, Mr. Graeme. I've had mine, I couldn't wait. Tea never tastes
so good as when you're half full of salt-water, and I got right out of
my depth once and swallowed tons. I screamed to you two to come and
save me, but you never paid the slightest attention, and for all you
cared I might have been drowned five times over."
"One would have been quite once too many," said Graeme, holding out
his cup. "For then you couldn't have lighted that fire and made this
tea. And I'm half inclined to think we wouldn't be enjoying it a
quarter so much if a little blue corpse lay out there on the shining
sand, and we'd had to turn to and make it ourselves."
"Horrible!" said Miss Penny, with a little shiver. "With your little
blue corpses! It's all very well to joke about it, but I assure you,
for a minute or so, I thought I was done for. The bottom seemed to
have sunk, and I was just going after it when my foot came on a rock
and that helped me to kick ashore."
"A narrow escape," said Graeme, with a sympathetic wag of the head.
"You've no right to risk your life that way. We still need you. What
do you say to being bridesmaid at a Sark wedding?"
"It is the hope of my life," said Miss Penny, sparkling like Mars in a
clear evening sky.
"I really don't see any reason why we should wait"--said Graeme,
looking very earnestly at Margaret, and behind the look was the
thought, born of what they had just come through together, that life
spills many a full cup before the thirsty lips have tasted it. "What
do you say, Margaret?"
And she, knowing well what was in him, and being of the same mind,
said, "I am ready, Jock. When you will."
"I'll call on the Vicar to-morrow," he said joyfully. "It would be
such a pity to disappoint the hope of Miss Penny's life,"--as that
young person came back with the merry kettle.
"I am indebted to you," said Hennie Penny. "What about dresses, Meg?"