"Lucky I saw you all standing on it white-skinned against the black
rocks. I see you all dive in and took my spy-glass, and see you
swimming this way, and when I told Binnacle Bill, he said just what I
thought, that you was swimming out to the lugger, and wouldn't do it,
and so I took the boat and come to you, and I'm sorry I did now."
"Sorry, sir?" I said.
"Ay, sorry. You're a set o' young swabs. What's the good of either of
you but to give trouble. Here, where are your clothes? Under the
cliff?"
"No, sir," I said dolefully. "We undressed on the big flat rock there,
and tied them up in bundles."
"Bundles? Where are they then?"
"Lost mine," said Bob, speaking for the first time.
"Oh, you're coming round then, are you?" cried old Jonas. "You've lost
yours then; and has my Bigley lost all his kit?"
"Yes, sir; we've all lost our bundles, unless they get thrown up by the
tide."
"Which they won't," snarled old Jonas. "Rope's end it is, for if I
don't thrash that big ugly cub of mine as soon as I get him aboard,
I'll--Now then, what are you yawing about that way for? Easy, captain!
Pull, doctor, will you? Now, both together. Regular stroke. That's
better. And so's that," he said, as he scooped out the last few drops
of water with the tin pannikin, and finished off by sopping the
remaining moisture with a piece of coarse flannel stuff which he wrung
out over the side.
Bob and I did not speak, but tugged at our oars, as absurd-looking a
crew as was ever seen upon the Devon coast, while we kept looking
pityingly at poor Bigley.
Poor fellow! He had placed his arms one on either side, resting upon
the gunwale, and appeared to be hard set to keep his head up from his
chest. Then he had one or two violent fits of coughing, and ended by
sitting back in the bottom of the boat with a weary sigh and closing his
eyes.
"Look, sir, look!" I cried in agony, for I thought Bigley must be
dying.
"Well, I am looking at him, boy. He's coming round. I can't do
anything for him here, can I? Pull hard, you young swabs, both of you,
and let's get aboard. I don't know what folks want to have boys for."
We rowed hard, bending well to our oars, and after a few minutes I
ventured to speak again, for Bigley looked terribly ill.
"Do you think he's getting better, sir?" I said.
"Better, boy? Yes," he said, not unkindly, for I suppose my anxiety
about his son moved him. "He'll be all right when I've warmed and laced
him up with the rope's end. I'm going to make you all skip as soon as I
get you aboard and there's room to move."
"But he looks so ill, sir," I said, quite ignoring the rope's-ending.
"Of course he does, my lad. So would you if you had gone down as far as
he did, and swallowed as much water. Easy. In oars."
I did not know we had rowed so far, but just then the boat bumped up
against the side of the lugger, and old Jonas rose, took the painter as
he stepped into the bows, and handed it to Binnacle Bill, whose grim old
face relaxed into a grin as he saw our plight.
"What have you got, Master Uggles'on?" he said. "White seals?"
"Ay, something o' the sort," grumbled old Jonas. "Here, boys, on board
with you."
We needed no second order, but scrambled over the side into the lugger,
while, at a word from his master, Binnacle Bill unbolted the piece of
the lugger's bulwarks that answered the purpose of a gangway, and as, by
main force, old Jonas lifted up Bigley, the old sailor leaned down, put
his arm round the poor limp fellow, and lifted him on deck, where he lay
almost without motion.
The next thing was to make fast the little boat astern, after which
Binnacle Bill seized the tiller, the sails filled, and the boat began to
glide through the sunny sea, while Bob and I picked out the sunniest
spot we could find, and watched old Jonas as he bent over Bigley and
poured a few drops of spirit between his teeth from a bottle he had
fetched from the little cabin.
"Rowing's put you two right," said Jonas. "Ah, I thought that would do
him good."
Certainly it did, for in a few minutes' time Bigley was able to sit up
in an oil-skin coat of his father's, while we two were accommodated with
a couple of Jersey shirts, which when worn as the only garment are nice
and warm, but anything but becoming.
The little lugger tacked and tacked again before we could make the mouth
of the Gap; and, probably because he was too busy over Bigley and the
boat, old Jonas said no more about the rope's end, but ran us right in
over the pebble bar into the little river, when Binnacle Bill was sent
over to our cottage to fetch some clothes for me and Bob, he being about
my size, and till they came we lay in old Jonas's bed.
Then a tremendous tea was eaten, Bigley being well enough to join in,
and afterwards in cool of the evening old Jonas rowed us round and along
the coast to see if we could pick up our bundles; but they had either
sunk or gone off to sea, and we returned without.
Bigley was evidently very poorly, but he wouldn't give up, and started
to walk part of the way back with us.
I noted one thing as we were going. Bob Chowne and I held out our hands
to say "Good-night," and to thank old Jonas for saving our lives.
"Oh, it was nothing," he said, shaking hands very warmly with Bob
Chowne, but taking no notice of mine. "It's all right. Good-bye, lads,
but don't do it again."
We said we would not, and started off home, where we both expected
severe scoldings; but before we had gone fifty yards up the cliff path
old Jonas hailed us with a stentorian, "Ahoy!"
"What is it, father?" shouted Bigley.
"Bring those boys back," roared old Jonas. "I forgot to give 'em the
rope's end."
I need not tell you we didn't go back. But when we parted from Bigley
half a mile further on, I said to him:
"Why wouldn't your father shake hands with me?"
"Hush! Don't take any notice," said Bigley in low voice; "he's very
angry still about Captain Duncan buying the Gap and finding the silver
mine. That's all!"
"That's all!" Bigley said. But it was not.