Oh is it weed, or fish, or floating hair?
A tress of maiden's hair,
Of drowned maiden's hair,
Above the nets at sea!
_Kingsley_.
Eric and Wildney were flogged and confined to gates for a time instead
of being expelled, and they both bore the punishment in a manly and
penitent way, and set themselves with all their might to repair the
injury which their characters had received. Eric especially seemed to
be devoting himself with every energy to regain, if possible, his
long-lost position, and by the altered complexion of his remaining
school-life, to atone in some poor measure for its earlier sins. And he
carried Wildney with him, influencing others also of his late companions
in a greater or less degree. It was not Eric's nature to do things by
halves, and it became obvious to all that his exertions to resist and
abandon his old temptations were strenuous and unwavering. He could no
longer hope for the school distinctions, which would have once lain so
easily within his reach, for the ground lost during weeks of idleness
cannot be recovered by a wish; but he succeeded sufficiently, by dint of
desperately hard work, to acquit himself with considerable credit, and
in the Easter examination came out high enough in the upper fifth to
secure his remove into the sixth-form after the holidays.
He felt far happier in the endeavour to do his duty, than he had ever
done during the last years of recklessness and neglect, and the change
for the better in his character tended to restore unanimity and goodwill
to the school. Eric no longer headed the party which made a point of
ridiculing and preventing industry; and sharing as he did the sympathy
of nearly all the boys, he was able quietly and unobtrusively to calm
down the jealousies and allay the heart-burnings which had for so long a
time brought discord and disunion into the school society. Cheerfulness
and unanimity began to prevail once more at Roslyn, and Eric had the
intense happiness of seeing how much good lay still within his power.
So the Easter holidays commenced with promise, and the few first days
glided away in innocent enjoyments. Eric was now reconciled again to
Owen and Duncan, and, therefore, had a wider choice of companions more
truly congenial to his higher nature than the narrow circle of his late
associates.
"What do you say to a boat excursion to-morrow?" asked Duncan as they
chatted together one evening.
"I won't go without leave," said Eric; "I should only get caught, and
get into another mess. Besides, I feel myself pledged now to strict
obedience."
"Ay, you're quite right. We'll get leave easily enough though, provided
we agree to take Jim the boatman with us; so I vote we make up a party."
"By the bye, I forgot; I'm engaged to Wildney to-morrow."
"Never mind. Bring him with you, and Graham too, if you like."
"Most gladly," said Eric, really pleased; for he saw by this that Duncan
observed the improvement in his old friends, and was falling in with the
endeavour to make all the boys really cordial to each other, and destroy
all traces of the late factions.
"Do you mind my bringing Montagu?"
"Not at all. Why should I?" answered Eric, with a slight blush.
Montagu and he had never been formally reconciled, nor had they, as yet,
spoken to each other. Indeed, Duncan had purposely planned the
excursion to give them an opportunity of becoming friends once more, by
being thrown together. He knew well that they both earnestly wished it,
although, with the natural shyness of boys, they hardly knew how to set
about effecting it. Montagu hung back lest he should seem to be
patronising a fallen enemy, and Eric lest he should have sinned too
deeply to be forgiven.
The next morning dawned gloriously, and it was agreed that they should
meet at Starhaven, the point where they were to get the boat, at ten
o'clock. As they had supposed, Dr Rowlands gave a ready consent to the
row, on condition of their being accompanied by the experienced sailor
whom the boys called Jim. The precaution was by no means unnecessary,
for the various currents which ran round the island were violent at
certain stages of the tide, and extremely dangerous for any who were not
aware of their general course.
Feeling that the day would pass off very unpleasantly if any feeling of
restraint remained between him and Montagu, Eric, by a strong effort,
determined to `make up with him' before starting, and went into his
study for that purpose after breakfast. Directly he came in, Montagu
jumped up and welcomed him cordially, and when without any allusion to
the past, the two shook hands with all warmth, and looked the old proud
look into each other's faces, they felt once more that their former
affection was unimpaired, and that in heart they were real and loving
friends. Most keenly did they both enjoy the renewed intercourse, and
they found endless subjects to talk about on their way to Starhaven,
where the others were already assembled when they came.
With Jim's assistance they shoved a boat into the water, and sprang into
it in the highest spirits. Just as they were pushing off they saw
Wright and Vernon running down to the shore towards them, and they
waited to see what they wanted.
"Couldn't you take us with you?" asked Vernon, breathless with his run.
"I'm afraid not, Verny," said Montagu; "the boat won't hold more than
six, will it, Jim?"
"No, sir, not safely."
"Never mind, you shall have my place, Verny," said Eric, as he saw his
brother's disappointed look.
"Then Wright shall take mine," said Wildney.
"Oh dear, no," said Wright, "we wouldn't turn you out for the world.
Vernon and I will take an immense walk down the coast instead, and will
meet you here as we come back."
"Well, good-bye, then; off we go;" and with light hearts the boaters and
the pedestrians parted.
Eric, Graham, Duncan, and Montagu took the first turn at the oars, while
Wildney steered. Graham's "crabs," and Wildney's rather crooked
steering, gave plenty of opportunity for chaff, and they were full of
fun, as the oar-blades splashed and sparkled in the waves. Then they
made Jim sing them some of his old sailor-songs as they rowed, and
joined vigorously in the choruses. They had arranged to make straight
for Saint Catharine's Head, and land somewhere near it to choose a place
for their picnic. It took them nearly two hours to get there, as they
rowed leisurely, and enjoyed the luxury of the vernal air. It was one
of the sunniest days of early spring; the air was pure and delicious,
and the calm sea-breeze, just strong enough to make the sea flame and
glister in the warm sunlight, was exhilarating as new wine. Underneath
them the water was transparent as crystal, and far below they could see
the green and purple seaweeds rising like a many-coloured wood, through
which occasionally they saw a fish, startled by their oars, dart like an
arrow. The sky overhead was a cloudless blue, and as they kept not far
from shore, the clearly cut outline of the coast, with its rocks and
hills standing out in the vivid atmosphere, made a glowing picture, to
which the golden green of the spring herbage, bathed in its morning
sunlight, lent the magic of enchantment. Who could have been otherwise
than happy in such a scene and at such a time? but these were boys with
the long bright holiday before them, and happiness is almost too quiet a
word to express the bounding exultation of heart, the royal and tingling
sense of vigorous life, which made them shout and sing, as their boat
rustled through the ripples, from a mere instinct of inexpressible
enjoyment.
They had each contributed some luxury to the picnic, and it made a very
tempting display as they spread it out under a sunny pebbled cave, by
Saint Catharine's Head; although instead of anything more objectionable,
they had thought it best to content themselves with ginger beer and
lemonade. When they had done eating, they amused themselves on the
shore; and had magnificent games among the rocks, and in every fantastic
nook of the romantic promontory. And then Eric suggested a bathe to
wind up with, as it was the first day when it had been quite warm enough
to make bathing pleasant.
"But we've got no towels."
"Oh! chance the towels. We can run about till we're dry." So they
bathed, and then getting in the boat to row back again, they all agreed
that it was the very jolliest day they'd ever had at Roslyn, and voted
to renew the experiment before the holidays were over, and take Wright
and Vernon with them in a larger boat.
It was afternoon--an afternoon still warm and beautiful--when they began
to row home; so they took it quietly, and kept near the land for
variety's sake, laughing, joking, and talking as merrily as ever.
"I declare I think this is the prettiest, or anyhow the grandest bit of
the whole coast," said Eric, as they neared a glen through whose narrow
gorge a green and garrulous little river gambolled down with noisy
turbulence into the sea. He might well admire that glen; its steep and
rugged sides were veiled with lichens, moss, and wild-flowers, and the
sea-birds found safe refuge in its lonely windings, which were coloured
with topaz and emerald by the pencillings of nature and the rich stains
of time.
"Yes," answered Montagu, "_I_ always stick up for Avon Glen as the
finest scene we've got about here. But, I say, who's that gesticulating
on the rock there to the right of it? I verily believe it's Wright,
apostrophising the ocean for Vernon's benefit. I only see one of them
though."
"I bet you he's spouting:--
"Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll
Ten thousand fleets, etcetera."
said Graham, laughing.
"What do you say to putting in to shore there?" said Duncan. "It's only
two miles to Starhaven, and I daresay we could make shift to take them
in for that distance. If Jim says anything we'll chuck him overboard."
They rowed towards Avon Glen, and to their surprise Wright, who stood
there alone (for with a pocket telescope they clearly made out that it
_was_ Wright), still continued to wave his arms and beckon them in a
manner which they at first thought ridiculous, but which soon made them
feel rather uneasy.
Jim took an oar, and they soon got within two hundred yards of the
beach. Wright had ceased to make signals, but appeared to be shouting
to them, and pointing towards one corner of the glen; but though they
caught the sound of his voice, they could not hear what he said.
"I wonder why Vernon isn't with him," said Eric anxiously; "I hope--why,
what _are_ you looking at, Charlie?"
"What's that in the water there?" said Wildney, pointing in the
direction to which Wright was also looking.
Montagu snatched the telescope out of his hand and looked. "Good God!"
he exclaimed, turning pale; "what can be the matter?"
"Oh, _do_ let me look," said Eric.
"No! stop, stop, Eric; you'd better not, I think; pray don't, it may be
all a mistake. You'd better not--but it looked--nay, you really
_mustn't_, Eric," he said, and, as if accidentally, he let the telescope
fall into the water, and they saw it sink down among the seaweeds at the
bottom.
Eric looked at him reproachfully. "What's the fun of that, Monty? you
let it drop on purpose."
"Oh, never mind; I'll get Wildney another. I really daren't let you
look, for fear you should _fancy_ the same as I did, for it must be
fancy. Oh, _don't_ let us put in there--at least not all of us."
What _was_ that thing in the water?
When Wright and Vernon left the others, they walked along the coast,
following the direction of the boat, and agreed to amuse themselves in
collecting eggs. They were very successful, and, to their great
delight, managed to secure some rather rare specimens. When they had
tired themselves with this pursuit, they lay on the summit of one of the
cliffs which formed the sides of Avon Glen, and Wright, who was very
fond of poetry, read Vernon a canto of _Marmion_ with great enthusiasm.
So they wiled away the morning, and when the canto was over, Vernon took
a great stone and rolled it for amusement over the cliff's edge. It
thundered over the side, bounding down till it reached the strand, and a
large black cormorant, startled by the reverberating echoes, rose up
suddenly, and flapped its way with protruded neck to a rock on the
farther side of the little bay.
"I bet you that animal's got a nest somewhere near here," said Vernon
eagerly. "Come, let's have a look for it; a cormorant's egg would be a
jolly addition to our collection."
They got up, and looking down the face of the cliff saw, some eight feet
below them, a projection half hidden by the branch of a tree, on which
the scattered pieces of stick clearly showed the existence of a rude
nest. They could not, however, see whether it contained eggs or no.
"I must bag that nest; it's pretty sure to have eggs in it," said
Vernon, "and I can get at it easy enough."
He immediately began to descend towards the place where the nest was
built, but he found it harder than he expected.
"Hallo," he said, "this is a failure. I must climb up again to
reconnoitre if there isn't a better dodge for getting at it."
He reached the top, and, looking down, saw a plan of reaching the ledge
which promised more hope of success.
"You'd better give it up, Verny," said Wright. "I'm sure it's harder
than we fancied. _I_ couldn't manage it, I know."
"Oh no, Wright, never say die. Look; if I get down more toward the
right the way's plain enough, and I shall have reached the nest in no
time."
Again he descended in a different direction, but again he failed. The
nest could only be seen from the top, and he lost the proper route.
"You must keep more to the right."
"I know," answered Vernon; "but, bother take it, I can't manage it, now
I'm so far down. I must climb up _again_."
"_Do_ give it up, Verny, there's a good fellow. You _can't_ reach it,
and really it's dangerous."
"Oh no, not a bit of it. My head's very steady and I feel as cool as
possible. We mustn't give up; I've only to get at the tree, and then I
shall be able to reach the nest from it quite easily."
"Well, do take care, that's a dear fellow."
"Never fear," said Vernon, who was already commencing his third attempt.
This time he got to the tree, and placed his foot on a part of the root,
while with his hands he clung on to a clump of heather.
"Hurrah!" he cried, "it's got two eggs in it, Wright," and he stretched
downwards to take them. Just as he was doing so, he heard the root on
which his foot rested give a great crack, and with a violent start he
made a spring for one of the lower branches. The motion caused his
whole weight to rest for an instant on his arms; unable to sustain the
wrench, the heather gave way, and with a wild shriek he fell headlong
down the surface of the cliff.
With a wild shriek!--but silence followed it.
"Vernon! Vernon!" shouted the terrified Wright, creeping close up to
the edge of the precipice. "O Vernon! for Heaven's sake, speak."
There was no answer, and leaning over, Wright saw the young boy
outstretched on the stones three hundred feet below. For some minutes
he was horror-struck beyond expression, and made wild attempts to
descend the cliff and reach him. But he soon gave up the attempt in
despair. There was a tradition in the school that the feat had once
been accomplished by an adventurous and active boy, but Wright at any
rate found it hopeless for himself. The only other way to reach the
glen was by a circuitous route which led to the entrance of the narrow
gorge, along the sides of which it was possible to make way with
difficulty down the bank of the river to the place where it met the sea.
But this would have taken him an hour and a half, and was far from easy
when the river was swollen with high tide. There was no house within
moderate distance at which assistance could be procured, and Wright, in
a tumult of conflicting emotions, determined to wait where he was, on
the chance of seeing the boat as it returned from Saint Catharine's
Head. It was already three o'clock, and he knew that the boys could not
now be longer than an hour at most; so with eager eyes he sat watching
the headland, round which he knew they would first come in sight. He
watched with wild eager eyes, absorbed in the one longing desire to
catch sight of them; but the leaden-footed moments crawled on like
hours, and he could not help shivering with agony and fear. At last he
caught a glimpse of them, and springing up, began to shout at the top of
his voice, and wave his handkerchief and his arms in the hope of
attracting their attention. Little thought those blithe, merry-hearted
boys, in the midst of the happy laughter which they sent ringing over
the waters, little they thought how terrible a tragedy awaited them.
At last Wright saw that they had perceived him, and were putting inland,
and now, in his fright, he hardly knew what to do; but feeling sure that
they could not fail to see Vernon, he ran off as fast as he could to
Starhaven, where he rapidly told the people at a farmhouse what had
happened, and asked them to get a cart ready to convey the wounded boy
to Roslyn School.
Meanwhile the tide rolled in calmly and quietly in the rosy evening,
radiant with the diamond and gold of reflected sunlight and transparent
wave. Gradually, gently it crept up to the place where Vernon lay; and
the little ripples fell over him wonderingly, with the low murmur of
their musical laughter, and blurred and dimmed the vivid splashes and
crimson streaks upon the white stone, on which his head had fallen; and
washed away some of the purple bells and green sprigs of heather round
which his fingers were closed in the grasp of death, and played softly
with his fair hair as it rose, and fell, and floated on their
undulations like a leaf of golden-coloured weed, until they themselves
were faintly discoloured by his blood. And then, tired with their new
plaything, they passed on, until the swelling of the water was just
strong enough to move rudely the boy's light weight, and in a few
moments more would have tossed it up and down with every careless wave
among the boulders of the glen. And then it was that Montagu's
horror-stricken gaze had identified the object at which they had been
gazing. In strange foreboding silence they urged on the boat, while
Eric at the prow seemed wild with the one intense impulse to verify his
horrible suspicion. The suspicion grew and grew:--it _was_ a boy lying
in the water;--it was Vernon;--he was motionless;--he must have fallen
there from the cliff.
Eric could endure the suspense no longer. The instant that the boat
grated on the shingle, he sprang into the water, and rushed to the spot
where his brother's body lay. With a burst of passionate affection, he
flung himself on his knees beside it, and took the cold hand in his
own--the little rigid hand in which the green blades of grass, and fern,
and heath, so tightly clutched, were unconscious of the tale they told.
"O Verny, Verny, darling Verny, speak to me!" he cried in anguish, as he
tenderly lifted up the body, and marked how little blood had flowed.
But the child's head fell back heavily, and his arms hung motionlessly
beside him, and with a shriek, Eric suddenly caught the look of dead
fixity in his blue open eyes.
The others had come up. "O God, save my brother, save him, save him
from death," cried Eric. "I cannot live without him. O God! O God!
Look! look!" he continued, "he has fallen from the cliff with his head
on this cursed stone," pointing to the block of quartz, still red with
blood-stained hair; "but we must get a doctor. He is not dead! no, no,
he _cannot_ be dead. Take him quickly, and let us row home. O God! why
did I ever leave him?"
The boys drew round in a frightened circle, and lifted Vernon's corpse
into the boat; and then, while Eric still supported the body, and
moaned, and called to him in anguish, and chafed his cold pale brow and
white hands, and kept saying that he had fainted and was not dead, the
others rowed home with all speed, while a feeling of terrified anxiety
lay like frost upon their hearts.
They reached Starhaven, and lifted the lifeless boy into the cart, and
heard from Wright how the accident had taken place. Few boys were about
the playground, so they got unnoticed to Roslyn, and Dr Underhay, who
had been summoned, was instantly in attendance. He looked at Vernon for
a moment, and then shook his head in a way that could not be mistaken.
Eric saw it, and flung himself with uncontrollable agony on his
brother's corpse. "O Vernon, Vernon, my own darling brother! O God,
then he is dead!" And, unable to endure the blow, he fainted away.
I cannot dwell on the miserable days that followed when the very sun in
heaven seemed dark to poor Eric's wounded and crushed spirit. He hardly
knew how they went by. And when they buried Vernon in the little green
churchyard by Russell's side, and the patter of the earth upon the
coffin--that most terrible of all sounds--struck his ear, the iron
entered into his soul, and he had but one wish as he turned away from
the open grave, and that was, soon to lie beside his beloved little
brother, and to be at rest.