ALL ON THE FIRST OF MAY
For a while I sat there in a delicious waking dream. The shadows of the
past fell away from me, and the future held no visible menace. Indeed I
didn't think of the future. The present was all my concern, or at least
only so much of the future as would bring my father back to me. Beyond
that I didn't look. Already my schooling in adventures and surprises
was teaching me to live in to-day and let to-morrow shift for itself.
So much could happen in a single hour that foresight and circumspection
were a wasted labour.
So I yielded to blissful anticipation, so near as it seemed to
immediate realization, and saw no cloud in the sky of my contentment.
Even the day was such as I loved. The hallooing of the wind, the
bursting of the waves, the salt-laden scent of the racing air, the
bounding vitality and keen stinging sweetness of it all, were like a
triumphal chant of the blood and the breath. It was as though the earth
and sea were living things, and my spirit was exalted at the rapture of
their boisterous play.
It wasn't immediately that I realized the meaning of certain pebbles
and clods of earth that came rolling down the cliff to either side of
me. I was too preoccupied to look up all at once. But when a heavier
lump came bounding down almost at my elbow I turned to see what the
cause of it might be. It was merely somebody climbing down the cliff,
and rolling stones at me, either to have a game with me or to attract
my attention. I thought probably it was the latter, for when he saw me
gazing up at him he stopped and began waving to me; and it looked as
though he were shouting, but the wind was in his teeth and I couldn't
catch a sound.
And then I sprang to my feet and gazed with a searching scrutiny at the
waving figure, for it was none other than Worthing.
Just for a moment I stood vacantly wondering how he had found me out,
but dismissing the question I accepted the fact of his presence, and
started scrambling up the sloping track towards him, the great wind
heaving me upwards from behind like a huge helping hand.
"Why, Worthing!" I panted as I reached him and seized his hand.
"Worthing!..."
The question I would have put to him was implied in my cry of
astonishment.
"It's quite simple," he answered me. "I knew where you would go, and I
followed."
I didn't stop to explain the amazing way in which I had reached my
destination. That story would keep. What I wanted to know was what had
happened to him when my escape had been discovered, and why he had left
school. I put the questions to him, not very coherently, for a sense
of shame prevented me from asking, "What did they do to you?" But he
took my meaning, and answered me, "They said a lot of things about me;
publicly, of course. And they flogged me."
"Flogged you!" I cried; nearly adding his own comment, "publicly, of
course."
"At least it was an experience," he said.
"Oh, Worthing!" I exclaimed in remorse, feeling behind his calm words
the disgust of the indignity still rankling in his mind. "Worthing, it
was all my fault."
"Look here, Tommy," he replied, "it was my own deliberate choice."
"No!" I said.
"Yes!" he answered curtly. "Please give me credit for knowing my own
mind."
He looked at me in his settled, uncompromising way, and I could say no
more. I wrung his hand in silence, and there was a pause. I didn't dare
ask for further particulars. Indeed there was no need. My imagination
could fill in with abundant details the outline he had drawn for me.
They had flogged him! Worthing, the soul of law and discipline! The
thing seemed incredible. They had flogged him! His very pride seemed a
shield sufficient to ward off such a calamity. But they hadn't spared
him. I turned to him with a cry of gratitude, but he was saying, "The
Captain was terribly uneasy about you when I told him you had escaped
and disappeared."
"Ah," I said; and wondered whether he would mention Jenny.
"I told him," he went on, "that I would find you and send you back to
him."
"Yes," I said doubtfully; and added, "Is that why you followed me?"
"Not exactly," he replied. "I had decided on that before. I had
committed my offence and taken my punishment. There was nothing else to
wait for. I made up my mind to leave the place as soon as the affair
was over. I shall go to my uncle in London. But first I thought I
should like to find you, Tommy."
Again I wrung his hand, and in what stumbling words I could lay tongue
to was trying to tell him how dear he was to me, but suddenly he
pointed below where a schooner was staggering round the headland.
But what I saw was a little boat already threading the channel into
Ebb-Tide Pool, bobbing like a see-saw on the backs of the rearing
waves. The tide was ebbing, and I wondered whether the boat would make
the entrance, but as I looked it rose on a leaping crest and plunged
through the narrow passage into the Pool, where it disappeared under
the overhanging arch. But I had recognized the solitary oarsman, though
his back had been towards me. It was my father.
I waved frantically as he vanished under the brow of rock, and hallooed
into the wind with all my might, though I knew well that my voice
couldn't reach him in that gale. But I was so excited that the wind
beating the words back into my face only made me shout the more; and I
set off down the cliff, slipping and leaping, with Worthing following
more cautiously behind me. I was afraid my father would row in up the
tunnel, where I would be unable to follow unless I swam for it. But
with a cry of relief I welcomed him as I saw him appear again, climbing
up the cliff towards me.
I stopped for a moment and waved to him, but he hadn't seen me, and
suddenly I thought I would hide and lie in wait for him to surprise
him as he came by. I ducked behind a rock and peered out cautiously
to watch for his coming. Looking back I saw Worthing still stepping
deliberately down the path. I motioned to him to hide, but he was too
concerned with his footing to notice me; he came slowly downwards,
pushing into the wind, and steadying himself at every step.
I peeped out again to see if my father were drawing near yet. But he
had stopped, and his face was turned away from me. And suddenly he
sprang round and began racing down the cliff. I jumped up to see what
had alarmed him, but there was no one in sight except Worthing. Then
faintly from below me, and coming as it seemed from Ebb-Tide Cave, I
heard my own voice calling, "Daddy, dad-_dee_!" as though I were in
some terrible peril.
I stood fixed to the spot. A terror such as I had never known set my
every nerve quivering. Not even the ghost at Sunset Towers in the dead
of a stormy night had seemed so unearthly as the sound of my own voice
calling for help there in the light of day. My blood ran cold to hear
it. I clutched at the rock beside me, for I felt faint and would have
fallen. But as my father still sped downwards, evidently deceived by
the cry which kept rising to him, "Daddy, daddy, save me!" I threw off
my stupid fear and started running after him, shouting with all my
power. But the wind was full in my face, and seemed to sweep the cry
from my lips, though I hallooed like one in a frenzy. Then my father
dipped under the arch and vanished.
I raised one last despairing cry, and quickened my pace, stumbling and
clutching, heedless of knocks and tumbles. For there was an agony of
anxiety upon me. A vivid picture was in my mind of my father breaking
back into the flames of the burning inn when he thought he heard me
calling. It was just the picture I could see; I didn't reason that that
had been make-believe merely. Something told me that this at least was
earnest. He was being decoyed into a trap. And of all things it was my
voice which was luring him on.
I jumped the last few feet, and flinging out an arm swung myself round
under the jutting rock. Almost at my feet, so that I nearly fell upon
him, was my father, writhing on the ground and choking blood, with a
gaping gash across his throat.
Something terrible happened within me. The air around me became a red
mist. I felt suddenly possessed of the strength of ten men. A frenzied
desire to kill surged up at my heart. I caught sight of a moving figure
scrambling over the rocks that ringed the Pool. I forgot my father;
and with an insane fury of vengeance driving me on I plunged after the
fugitive, howling and whooping like a crazed animal.
He was making off towards the sandy bay. I could see it below me with
the tumble-down jetty at its farther horn, and beyond was a little
smack anchored a stone's throw from the shore out of reach of the
worst of the breakers. I guessed that was his goal, and if he gained
it he would beat off down the coast, where I couldn't hope to follow
with the waves rolling in above my head. In a fog of rage and madness
I stumbled after him, lumbering carelessly and making little ground;
for he was nimble and trod lightly, leaping with ease and dexterity
from rock to rock, in spite of the slippery weed which here began to
drape them treacherously, still wet from the ebbing tide. Then came the
short stretch of clear going before the jetty. I thought I might catch
him there as he climbed the great obstacle, and I pressed forward,
consciously snarling with anger and hate. He reached the space and ran;
and I knew that if he slipped as he climbed the slimy stones I should
have him. But he bore a little up to the left, and I saw he was making
for a gap brokenly boarded in but with the planks and piles hanging
awry. It might be possible there to leap without climbing. I hoped he
would leap and fall. As my feet touched the sand I raced after him with
a yell.
It wasn't till this moment that I remembered my weapons. So primitive
were the passions that had been so suddenly whipped up within me that
my vision had been one of tearing my enemy piecemeal with my nails and
teeth. The memory of my pistol came to me like a shout of laughter.
I stopped, and drew the darling weapon from my belt, and levelled
it at my fleeing foe. My hand was shaky with excitement, and I was
afraid I should miss. Taking as careful aim as I could I pulled the
trigger and with a howl of evil joy was bounding forward again, for I
saw him stumble and fall. He was soon up, however, but was limping in
his run. Drawing my knife I sprang after him, gaining steadily, with
the picture of my vengeance already vivid in my imagination. But he
still ran well, and reaching the gap didn't risk a jump at it with
his damaged leg. I saw where without pausing he rested his hand on a
broken stump, and vaulted over the barrier. A moment, and I was at the
place; and learning wisdom from my foe I didn't risk a fall by a wild
leap, but slipping back my knife into my belt I rested my hand where he
had taught me, and in my turn vaulted after him. But he was crouching
there ready for me, as I might have guessed if my stupid rage hadn't
stupefied my wits. Even as I leapt I saw him; but it was too late.
He caught me a stunning buffet between the eyes; and with the vision
before me of that dreadful face that still haunted my dreams, I fell
senseless.