A CHRISTENING
Brand was slow to answer. For one thing, he was exhausted. Refreshing as
the long swim was after a night of lonely vigil, itself the culmination
of two days of hard work, the fierce battle with the shark had shocked
into active existence the reserve of latent energy which every healthy
animal unconsciously hoards for life-and-death emergencies.
But there was another reason. He had scarce gained the comparative
safety of the boat before he was, in the same instant, horrified and
astounded to a degree hitherto beyond his experience. Not even the stiff
pull of two hundred yards sufficed to restore his senses. So Jim's
question fell on his ears with the meaningless sound of the steamer's
siren.
"What is it, mate?" repeated his fellow-keeper, more insistently. "You
ain't hurt anyways, are you?"
"It is a baby," said Brand, in a curiously vacant way.
"A baby!" shrieked Jones, stretched out over the crane above their
heads.
"A what-a?" roared the sailor, whose crudely developed nervous system
was not proof against the jar of incredulity induced by this statement.
Had Brand said "a tiger," he could not have exhibited greater concern.
"Yes, a baby--and it is living. I heard it cry," murmured the other,
sitting down rather suddenly.
Indeed, a faint wail, suggestive of a kitten, now came from beneath the
tumbled canvas quite near to Jim. But the Royal Navy does not encourage
neurosis. The lighthouse-keeper felt that a minor crisis had arrived. It
must be dealt with promptly.
The evil odor which still adhered to the boat told him that Brand had
exchanged one Inferno for another, when he clambered out of the reach of
the blindly vengeful shark.
He looked up to Jones.
"Lower away," he said, promptly. "Swing the derrick until I grab the
tackle, and then hoist me aboard."
This was done. Ungainly in his walk, owing to his wounded limb, Jim,
clinging to a rope, had the easy activity of a squirrel.
"Now, lower a jug with some brandy. He's dead beat," he added.
Whilst Jones hastened for the spirit, the sailor stooped and threw back
the sail.
Lying in the bottom of the boat, wrapped in a blanket which unavailing
struggles had rumpled into a roll beneath the arms, was an infant whose
precise age it was impossible to estimate forthwith owing to the
emaciated condition of its body.
With the rocking of the boat, the foul bilge-water washed around the
child's limbs and back. Instinct alone had saved it from drowning.
Perhaps, during the first hours of vigor after abandonment, the little
one might have rolled over in infantile search for food and human
tendance, but the rush of salt water into eyes and mouth must have
driven the tiny sufferer to seek instantly the only position in which
life was possible.
So far as the man could judge in a first hasty glance, the child's
clothing was of excellent quality. Yet he gave slight heed to such
considerations. Jim was the father of three lusty youngsters who were
snugly in bed in Penzance, and the sight of this forlorn sea-waif made
his eyes misty.
He reached down, unpinned the blanket, which was secured with a brooch,
and lifted the infant out of its unpleasing environment. It was piteous
to see the way in which the shrunken hands at once strove to clasp his
wrists, though they were all too feeble to achieve more than a gentle
clutch which relaxed almost as soon as the effort was made.
Jones, also a husband and father, bethought him when he reached the
store-room. Hence, when the windlass lowered a basket, there was not
only a supply of brandy within but also a bottle of fresh milk, which
reached the Gulf Rock, by arrangement with a fisherman, whenever weather
permitted.
Jim handed the jug to his exhausted companion.
"Here, cap'n," he said, cheerfully. "Take a couple of mouthfuls of this.
It'll warm the cockles of your heart. An' the sooner you shin up the
ladder and get them soaked rags off you the better. Can you manage? It's
a near thing for the kid, if not too late now."
Brand needed no second bidding. He did not wish to collapse utterly, and
the soft breeze, rendered chilly by his wet garments, had revived him
somewhat.
The resourceful sailor did not attempt the foolish process of pouring
even the smallest quantity of milk into the baby's mouth. He produced a
handkerchief, steeped a twisted corner in the milk, and placed it
between the parched, salt-blackened lips.
This rough expedient for a feeding-bottle served admirably. The child's
eagerness to gulp in the life-giving fluid was only matched by the
tender care of the sailor in his efforts to appease its ravenous hunger.
He was so intent on this urgent task that for a little while he paid no
heed to Brand. Jones, forty feet overhead, took the keenest interest in
the baby's nurture.
"Mind you don't let it suck the handkerchief into its little throat," he
cried. "Not too much, Jim. It's on'y a young 'un. 'Half milk, half
water, an' a lump of sugar,' my missus says. Pore little dear! However
did it come to live, when that man must ha' bin dead for days? Now, Jim,
slow an' sure is the motter. S'pose you shove it into the basket an' let
me hoist it up here? A warm bath an' a blanket is the next best thing to
milk an' water."
"All right, skipper. Just hold on a bit. She's doin' fine."
"Is it a he or a she?"
"I dunno. But I guess it's a gal by the duds."
The baby, in the sheer joy of living again, uttered a gurgling cry, a
compound of milk, happiness and pain.
"There! I told you!" shouted Jones, angrily. "You think every kid is a
hardy young savage like your own. You're overdoing' it, I say."
"Overdoing' wot?" demanded the sailor. "You don't know who you're
talking' to. Why, when I was on the West Coast, I reared two week-old
monkeys this way."
Soon these firm friends would have quarreled--so unbounded was their
anxiety to rescue the fluttering existence of the tiny atom of humanity
so miraculously snatched from the perils of the sea.
But Stephen Brand's dominant personality was rapidly recovering its
normal state.
"Jim," he said, "Mr. Jones is right. The child must be made comfortable.
Her skin is raw and her eyes sore with inflammation. The little food she
has already obtained will suffice for a few minutes. Send her up."
The "Mr. Jones" was a gentle reminder of authority. No further protest
was raised, save by the infant when supplies were temporarily withheld,
and Jones was too pleased that his opinion should be supported by Brand
to give another thought to his subordinate's outburst.
"Now, back up to the rock," said Brand. "I will dress and rejoin you
quickly. The boat must be thoroughly examined and swabbed out: Jones
will signal for help. Meanwhile, you might moor her tightly. When the
tide falls she will be left high and dry."
The sailor's momentary annoyance fled. There was much to be done, and no
time should be wasted in disputes concerning baby culture.
"Sure you won't slip?" he asked, as Stephen caught hold of the ladder.
"No, no. It was not fatigue but sickness which overcame me. The brandy
has settled that."
Up he went, as though returning from his customary morning dip.
"By jingo, he's a plucked 'un," murmured Jim, admiringly. "He ought to
be skipper of a battleship, instead of housemaid of a rock-light. Dash
them sea-crows! I do hate 'em."
He seized an oar and lunged so hard and true at a cormorant which was
investigating the shark's liver, that he knocked the bird a yard through
the air. Discomfited, it retired, with a scream. Its companion darted to
the vacant site and pecked industriously. The neighborhood of the rock
was now alive with seagulls. In the water many varieties of finny shapes
were darting to and fro in great excitement. Jim laughed.
"They'd keep me busy," he growled. "When all's said an' done, it's their
nater, an' they can't help it."
Unconscious that he had stated the primordial thesis, he left the
foragers alone. Hauling the sail out of the water, he discovered that
the stern-board was missing, broken off probably when the mast fell. His
trained scrutiny soon solved a puzzle suggested by the state of the
cordage. Under ordinary conditions, the upper part of the mast would
either have carried the sail clean away with it or be found acting as a
sort of sea-anchor at a short distance from the boat.
But it had gone altogether, and the strands of the sail-rope were
bitten, not torn, asunder. The shark had striven to pull the boat under
by tugging at the wreckage.
Having made the canvas ship-shape, Jim settled the next pressing
question by seizing an empty tin and sluicing the fore part. Then he
passed a rope under the after thwart and reeved it through a ring-bolt
in a rock placed there for mooring purposes in very calm weather like
the present.
When the Trinity tender paid her monthly visit to the lighthouse she was
moored to a buoy three cables' lengths away to the northwest. If there
was the least suspicion of a sea over the reef it was indeed a ticklish
task landing or embarking stores and men.
Close-hauled, the boat would fill forward as the tide dropped. This was
matterless. By that time all her movable contents--she appeared to have
plenty of tinned meat and biscuits aboard but no water--would be removed
to the store-room.
The sailor was sorting the packages--wondering what queer story of the
deep would be forthcoming when the recent history of the rescued child
was ascertained--when Brand hailed him.
"Look out there, Jim. I am lowering an ax."
The weapon was duly delivered.
"What's the ax for, cap'n?" was the natural query.
"I want to chop out that shark's teeth. They will serve as mementoes for
the girl if she grows up, which is likely, judging by the way she is
yelling at Jones."
"Whats he a-doing' of?" came the sharp demand.
"Giving her a bath, and excellently well, too. He is evidently quite
domesticated."
"If that means 'under Mrs. J.'s thumb,' you're right, cap'n. They tell
me that when he's ashore--"
"Jim, the first time I met you you were wheeling a perambulator. Now,
load the skip and I will haul in."
They worked in silence a few minutes. Brand descended, and a few
well-placed cuts relieved the man-eater of the serrated rows used to
such serious purpose in life that he had attained a length of nearly
twelve feet. Set double in the lower jaw and single in the upper, they
were of a size and shape ominously suggestive of the creature's
voracity.
"It is a good thing," said Brand, calmly hewing at the huge jaws, "that
nature did not build the _Carcharodon galeidæ_ on the same lines as an
alligator. If this big fellow's sharp embroidery were not situated so
close to his stomach he would have made a meal of me, Jim, unless I
carried a torpedo."
"He's a blue shark," commented the other, ignoring for the nonce what he
termed "some of the cap'n's jaw-breakers."
"Yes. It is the only dangerous species found so far north."
"His teeth are like so many fixed bayonets. Of course, you would like
to keep 'em, but he would look fine in the museum. Plenty of folk in
Penzance, especially visitors, would pay a bob a head to see him."
Brand paused in his labor.
"Listen, Jim," he said, earnestly. "I want both you and Jones to oblige
me by saying nothing about the shark. Please do not mention my
connection with the affair in any way. The story will get into the
newspapers as it is. The additional sensation of the fight would send
reporters here by the score. I don't wish that to occur."
"Do you mean to say--
"Mr. Jones will report the picking up of the boat, and the finding of
the baby, together with the necessary burial of a man unknown--
"What sort of a chap was he?" interrupted Jim.
"I--I don't know--a sailor--that is all I can tell you. He must have
been dead several days."
"Then how in the world did that baby keep alive?"
"I have been thinking over that problem. I imagine that, in the first
place, there was a survivor, who disappeared since the death of the poor
devil out there--" he pointed to the sea. "This person, whether man or
woman, looked after the child until madness came, caused by drinking
salt water. The next step is suicide. The little one, left living, fell
into the bilge created by the shipping of a sea, and adopted, by the
mercy of Providence, a method of avoiding death from thirst which ought
to be more widely appreciated than it is. She absorbed water through the
pores of the skin, which rejected the salty elements and took in only
those parts of the compound needed by the blood. You follow me?"
"Quite. It's a slap-up idea."
"It is not new. It occurred to a ship's captain who was compelled to
navigate his passengers and crew a thousand miles in open boats across
the Indian Ocean, as the result of a fire at sea. Well, the child was
well nourished, in all likelihood, before the accident happened which
set her adrift on the Atlantic. She may have lost twenty or thirty
pounds in weight, but starvation is a slow affair, and her plumpness
saved her life in that respect. Most certainly she would have died
today, and even yet she is in great danger. Her pulse is very weak, and
care must be taken not to stimulate the action of the heart too
rapidly."
When Brand spoke in this way, Jim Spence was far too wary to ask
personal questions. Sometimes, in the early days of their acquaintance,
he had sought to pin his friend with clumsy logic to some admission as
to his past life. The only result he achieved was to seal the other
man's lips for days so far as reminiscences were concerned.
Not only Jones and Spence, but Thompson, the third assistant, who was
taking his month ashore, together with the supernumeraries who helped to
preserve the rotation of two months rock duty and one ashore, soon
realized that Brand--whom they liked and looked up to--had locked the
record of his earlier years and refused to open the diary for anyone.
Yet so helpful was he--so entertaining with his scraps of scientific
knowledge and more ample general reading--that those whose turn on the
rock was coincident with his relief hailed his reappearance with joy.
During the preceding winter he actually entertained them with a free
translation of the twenty-four books of the "Iliad," and great was the
delight of Jim Spence when he was able to connect the exploits of some
Greek or Trojan hero with the identity of one of her Majesty's ships.
In private, they discussed him often, and a common agreement was made
that his wish to remain incognito should be respected. Their nickname,
"the cap'n," was a tacit admission of his higher social rank. They
feared lest inquisitiveness should drive him from their midst, and one
supernumerary, who heard from the cook of the Trinity tender that Brand
was the nephew of a baronet, was roughly bidden to "close his rat-trap,
or he might catch something he couldn't eat."
So Jim now contented himself by remarking dolefully that had his advice
been taken "the bloomin' kid would be well on her way back to the Scilly
Isles."
"You must not say that," was the grave response. "These things are
determined by a higher power than man's intelligence. Think how the
seeming accident of a fallen sail saved the child from the cormorants
and other birds--how a chance sea fell into the boat and kept her
alive--how mere idle curiosity on my part impelled me to swim out and
investigate matters."
"That's your way of putting' it," Jim was forced to say. "You knew
quite well that there might be a shark in her wake, or you wouldn't have
taken the knife. An' now you won't have a word said about it. At the
bombardment of Alexandria, a messmate of mine got the V. C. for less."
"The real point is, Jim, that we have not yet discovered what ship this
boat belongs to."
"No, an' what's more, we won't find out in a hurry. Her name's gone,
fore and aft."
"Is there nothing left to help us?"
"Only this."
The sailor produced the brooch from his waistcoat pocket. It was of the
safety-pin order, but made of gold and ornamented with small emeralds
set as a four-leafed shamrock.
"Is the maker's name on the sail?"
"No. I fancy that this craft was rigged on board ship for harbor
cruisin'."
Brand passed a hand wearily across his forehead.
"I wish I had not been so precipitate," he murmured. "That man had
papers on him, in all likelihood."
"You couldn't have stood it, mate. It was bad enough for me. It must ha'
bin hell for you."
"Perhaps the baby's clothes are marked."
"That's a chance. She was well rigged out."
Brand cast the shark loose. The monster slid off into the green depths.
A noiseless procession of dim forms rushed after the carcass. The birds,
shrill with disappointment, darted off to scour the neighboring sea.
Beyond the damaged boat, bumping against the rock, and the huge jaws
with their rows of wedge-shaped teeth, naught remained to testify to the
drama of the hour save the helpless baby on which the head-keeper was
waiting so sedulously.
Already the signal "Doctor wanted" was fluttering from the lighthouse
flagstaff. It would be noted at the Land's End and telegraphed to
Penzance. The morning would be well advanced before help could reach the
Gulf Rock from ashore.
When Brand and Spence entered Jones's bedroom they found him hard at
work washing the child's clothing.
"She's asleep," he said, jerking his head towards a bunk. "I gev' her a
pint of mixture. She cried a bit when there was no more to be had, but a
warm bath with some boric acid in it made her sleepy. An' there she is,
snug as a cat."
The domesticated Jones was up to his elbows in a lather of soap.
"Have you noticed any laundry marks or initials on her clothing?" asked
Brand.
"Yes. Here you are."
He fished out of the bubbles a little vest, on which were worked the
letters E. T. in white silk.
"Ah! That is very important. We can establish her identity, especially
if the laundry mark is there also."
"I'm feared there's nothing else," said Jones. "I've not looked very
carefully, as it'll take me all my time to get everything dry afore the
tug comes. As for ironin', it can't be done. But my missus'll see after
her until somebody turns up to claim her."
"That may be never."
"Surely we will get some news of the ship which was lost!"
"Yes, that is little enough to expect. Yet it is more than probable that
her parents are dead. A baby would be separated from her mother only by
the mother's death. There is a very real chance that poor 'E. T.' will
be left for years on the hands of those who take charge of her now. The
only alternative is the workhouse."
"That's so, cap'n," put in Jim. "You always dig to the heart of a
subjec', even if it's a shark."
"In a word, Jones, you can hardly be asked to assume such a
responsibility. Now it happens that I can afford to adopt the child, if
she lives, and is not claimed by relatives. It is almost a duty imposed
on me by events. When the doctor comes, therefore, I purpose asking him
to see that she is handed over to Mrs. Sheppard, the nurse who looks
after my own little girl. I will write to her. My turn ashore comes next
week. Then I can devote some time to the necessary inquiries."
Jones made no protest. He knew that Brand's suggestion was a good one.
And he promised silence with regard to the fight with the shark. Men in
the lighthouse service are quick to grasp the motives which cause others
to avoid publicity. They live sedate, lonely lives. The noise, the rush,
the purposeless activities of existence ashore weary them. They have
been known to petition the Trinity Brethren to send them back to
isolated stations when promoted to localities where the pleasures and
excitements of a town were available.
Having determined the immediate future of little "E. T.," whose shrunken
features were now placid in sleep, they quietly separated. Brand flung
himself wearily into a bunk to obtain a much-needed rest, and the others
hurried to overtake the many duties awaiting them.
Weather reports and daily journals demanded instant attention. The oil
expenditure, the breakage of glass chimneys, the consumption of stores,
the meteorological records--all must be noted. An efficient lookout must
be maintained, signals answered or hoisted, everything kept spotlessly
clean, and meals cooked. Until noon each day a rock lighthouse is the
scene of unremitting diligence, and the loss of nearly an hour and a
half of Spence's watch, added to the presence of the baby and the
constant care which one or other of the two men bestowed on her, made
the remaining time doubly precious.
About nine o'clock, Brand was awakened from a heavy slumber by Jim's
hearty voice:
"Breakfast ready, cap'n. Corfee, eggs an' haddick--fit for the Queen,
God bless her! An' baby's had another pint of Jones's brew--Lord love
her little eyes, though I haven't seen 'em yet. A minnit ago Jones sung
down to me that the _Lancelot_ has just cleared Carn du."
The concluding statement brought Brand to his feet. The doctor would be
on the rock by the time breakfast was ended and the letter to Mrs.
Sheppard written.
When the doctor did arrive he shook his head dubiously at first sight of
the child.
"I don't know how she lived. She is a mere skeleton," he said.
Brand explained matters, and hinted at his theory.
"Oh, the ways of nature are wonderful," admitted the doctor. "Sometimes
a man will die from an absurdly trivial thing, like the sting of a wasp
or the cutting of a finger. At others, you can fling him headlong from
the Alps and he will merely suffer a bruise or two. Of course, this
infant has an exceptionally strong constitution or she would have died
days ago. However, you have done right so far. I will see to her proper
nourishment during the next few days. It is a most extraordinary case."
Jones had managed so well that the child's garments were dry and well
aired. Wrapped in a clean blanket, she was lowered into the steamer's
boat, but the doctor, preferring to jump, was soaked to the waist owing
to a slip on the weed-covered rock.
The crew of the tugboat bailed out the derelict and towed her to
Penzance.
That evening a fisherman brought a note from Mrs. Sheppard. Among other
things, she wrote that the baby's clothes were beautifully made and of a
very expensive type. She was feverish, the doctor said, but the
condition of her eyes and lips would account for this, apart from the
effects of prolonged exposure.
Brand read the letter to his mates when the trio were enjoying an
evening pipe on the "promenade," the outer balcony under the lantern.
"S'pose her people don't show up," observed Jim, "what are you going' to
call her?"
"Trevillion," said Brand.
The others gazed at him with surprise. The prompt announcement was
unexpected.
"I have told you about the fabled land of Lyonnesse lying there beneath
the sea," he went on, pointing to the dark blue expanse on whose distant
confines the Scilly Isles were silhouetted by the last glow of the
vanished sun. "Well, the name of the only person who escaped from that
minor deluge was Trevillion. It is suitable, and it accords with the
initial of her probable surname."
"Oh, I see," piped Jones. His voice, always high-pitched, became squeaky
when his brain was stirred.
"That's O.K. for the 'T,'" remarked Jim, "but what about the 'E'?
Elizabeth is a nice name when you make it into Bessie."
"I think we should keep up the idea of the Arthurian legend. There are
two that come to my mind, Elaine and Enid. Elaine died young, the victim
of an unhappy love. Enid became the wife of a gallant knight, Gawain,
who was
"----ever foremost in the chase,
And victor at the tilt and tournament,
They called him the great Prince and man of men.
But Enid, whom her ladies loved to call
Enid the Fair, a grateful people named
Enid the Good."
"That settles it," cried Jim, brandishing his pipe towards Penzance. "I
hope as how Miss Enid Trevillion is asleep an' doin' well, an' that
she'll grow up to be both fair an' good. If she does, she'll be better'n
most women."
Brand made no reply. He went within to attend to the lantern. In five
minutes the great eyes of the Lizard, the Longships and the Seven Stones
Lightship were solemnly staring at their fellow-warden of the Gulf Rock,
whilst, in the far west, so clear was the night, the single flash of St.
Agnes and the double flash of the Bishop illumined the sky.