"David, you must try to swim on shore, and save yourself," exclaimed
Harry Merryweather, looking at the foaming seas, which now began, with a
deafening noise, to dash furiously round the rock on which he and his
friend stood. "If you don't go soon, you will not be able to get there
at all. Leave me, I beg you. There is no reason why both should be
lost."
"No indeed, that I will not," answered David, stoutly. "If I thought
that I could get help by trying to swim on shore I would go, but I do
not think there is a place near where I could find a boat."
Harry did not speak for a minute or two.
At last he put his hand on David's shoulder, and said, "I ask you again
to swim on shore by yourself. I will pray for you as you are swimming,
and you shall pray for me when you reach the beach. My dear mother
taught me to pray when I was a child, and she has ever shown to me that
God hears all faithful prayers, and in His good time grants them; so
that I have always prayed since I went to sea, both when I was turning
into my hammock, and when I was turning out; and I knew that my mother
was praying for me too, for she is always praying for me; and I know
that God hears those prayers, so you see that makes me very brave. I am
sure that I can trust Him."
"I am so glad to hear you say that," answered David. "My father was
teaching us just the same thing after reading the Bible at prayers the
other night. It's true--it's true, I know."
"Then trust to Him, and do as I ask you," said Harry, earnestly. "Take
off your jacket and shoes at all events--you will be back in time to
save them and me also."
"I don't like leaving you at all, but I will do as you wish," exclaimed
David, after a moment's further thought, taking off his jacket. As he
did so he turned his head round seaward. "Hillo!--why, there is a
boat," he exclaimed. "She is under sail, standing this way."
The boys together sprang back to the highest part of the rock, and David
still holding his jacket waved it vehemently. It was a small
fishing-boat, beating up from the westward. She was then standing in
for the land, and Harry, whose nautical knowledge was not as yet
by-the-bye very great, was doubtful where she would go about again
before she got near enough for those on board to see them. All they
could do was to wave and wave, and to shout--though their shouting,
shrill as it was, would have been of no use.
David, who really knew more about boat-sailing than his naval friend,
expressed his opinion that she was beating up for the little
boat-harbour of Penmore, about two miles to the eastward. How anxiously
they watched her, as the tide sweeping her along she drew nearer and
nearer! The wind, having--as the expression is--backed into the
south-east, enabled her to lay up well along shore, or their hope of
being seen would have been small indeed. For some minutes longer she
stood on almost directly for them; then at length she went about--high
time, too, for she was getting near the breakers. Now was the moment
for them to shout and wave, for if they were now neither seen nor heard
they must abandon their hope of help from her, as by the next tack she
would be a long way to the eastward. How eagerly they watched her!
Again and again they waved and shouted.
"Yes, see--she is about," cried Harry, joyfully. He was right--the boat
was evidently standing towards them. Harry, forgetting all past
dangers, shouted and danced for joy. Life was very sweet to him. He
thought nothing of the ordinary risk of losing it which he was every day
running--but this was out of the way, and he had almost made up his mind
that he should not escape. There were two people in the boat--an old
man and a boy. The sail was lowered, and getting out their oars they
approached the rock cautiously. It would have been excessively
dangerous to get close, as a heavier sea than usual might have driven
the boat against the rock and dashed her to pieces. This Harry and
David saw. The old man stood up in the boat, and beckoned to them. He
was shouting also, but the thundering noise of the sea against the rock
prevented them from hearing him.
"He wants us to swim out to the boats," said David. "I am sure that I
could do it, and I will bring in a rope for you."
"Oh, I do not think that you could," answered Harry. "The sea rolls in
so heavily that you would be driven back. They might let the end of a
rope, made fast to a cork or a float of some sort, drift in, and haul us
off." The plan was clearly a good one, and they made signals to the old
man to carry it out; but either he did not understand them, or had not a
rope long enough.
"I must go," cried David, throwing off his coat and shoes. "Pray for
me, remember." He had been watching his opportunity: a heavy sea had
just passed, and, before Harry could even say another word, slipping
down to the edge of the rock, he glided in, giving himself all the
impetus he could with his feet, and almost the next instant was
breasting a sea at some distance from the rock. Harry watched him
anxiously, not forgetting to pray. Now he seemed almost driven back,
and now a foam-crested sea rolling in looked as if it would inevitably
overwhelm him. Alas! yes--he disappeared.
"He is lost--he is lost!" cried Harry. But no. Directly after he was
again seen on the surface, working his way up another advancing sea.
Harry was now guided chiefly by the gesticulations of the people in the
boat,--that is to say, by the way the old man waved a hand, or looked
out, for they had to keep their oars moving with all their might and
main to avoid being driven dangerously near the rock. At length Harry,
with thankfulness, saw David close to the boat but she seemed to be
going from him--then the old man stood up--stretched out his arm, and
David, well-nigh exhausted, was dragged into the boat. Harry saw that
he was talking to the old man.
"What will he do? I hope that he will not attempt to swim back to the
rock," thought Harry; yet he felt very sure that he should never reach
the boat by himself. As the boat rose on the top of a wave, Harry saw
that David was employed in fastening several ropes together. The task
which the old man and the boy could not perform, as they were obliged to
continue rowing, he was able to do. Harry saw him very busy in the
bottom of the boat, and now he lifted a water-cask into the sea, and
veered away the rope over the stern. For some time Harry did not regain
sight of the cask; at last he saw it on the top of a sea, but still a
long way from the rock. He watched it anxiously; but still he doubted
whether he should be able to get hold of it. It might, even if it
reached the rock, be dashed to pieces. He got down as close to the
water as he dared go, for the seas were dashing so high up the rock that
he might easily be carried away by them--indeed, he was already wet
through and through with the spray, which was flying in dense sheets
over the rock, and in a few minutes more it seemed to him that it would
be completely overwhelmed--indeed, any moment a sea might sweep over it.
Harry had a brave heart, and as long as he had life was not likely to
lose courage. He showed his coolness, indeed, for believing that the
cask would soon reach him, he deliberately tied David's jacket and shoes
round his waist, that he might have the pleasure of restoring them to
him. He had observed how David slipped into the water. There came the
cask, nearer and nearer. Before it had time to touch the rock, he slid
down into the sea, and struck out boldly for it, and throwing his arms
over it caught the rope to which it was made fast, and drew himself up
till his chest rested on it.
He then shouted at the top of his voice, "Haul in--all right." David,
however, could not hear him: but having watched him with intense
eagerness, now began slowly to haul in the rope, while the old man and
boy pulled the boat further off the rock. Harry held firmly on, though
he almost lost his breath by the waters, which dashed in his face. He
kept his senses, however, and had the wisdom to strike out with all his
might with his feet, which greatly helped him on, and took off the drag
from his arms which they would otherwise have felt.
As he rose to the top of a sea he again shouted out every now and then,
"All right--haul away." He was, however, not much inclined to shout by
the time he got up to the stern of the boat. David, with the help of
the old man, then quickly hauled him on board.
"And you have brought me my jacket and shoes," exclaimed David, gladly
putting them on, for he felt very cold directly the exertions he had
just gone through ceased. The boys sincerely thanked God in their
hearts that they were saved--though but a very few audible words of
thanksgiving were uttered. No time, indeed, was to be lost in getting
away from the rock.
The old man told David to go to the helm. "And you other young master
take my oar and pull with all your might, while I sets the sails," he
added. A sprit-mainsail, much the worse for wear, and a little rag of a
foresail were soon set. It was as much sail as the boat in the rising
gale could carry, and away she flew seaward. The old man took the helm,
and the boy, who had not spoken, laid in his oar, and facing forward,
put his hand on the foresheet to be ready to go about when the word was
given. The boat was somewhat old and battered, like its master,--the
rigging especially seemed in a bad condition.
The old man saw the boys examining her, and divined their thoughts.
"She's not like one of your fine-painted yachts, young masters; but she
has helped to save your lives, and she'll serve my time, I'm pretty sure
of that," he observed. "She'll be tried, howsomever, not a little
to-night, I'm thinking. We were late as it was coming up from `Put off
shoal,' and this work with you made us still later, so that we shall
have to be thankful if we get into Penmore harbour before the tide
turns."
"She is a good boat, no doubt, and at all events we are most thankful to
you for having by her means saved our lives," said David; and Harry
repeated what he had said.
"No, young masters, it wasn't I saved you, it was God. Don't thank me.
Man can do no good thing of himself, you know, and I couldn't have saved
you if it hadn't been His will." The fishing-boat went careering on
over the foaming seas, guided by the skilful hand of the old man. It is
surprising how much sea a small boat with good beam will go through when
well managed. The old man was far more loquacious than the young one,
who sat quite still forward, only every now and then turning his face
aside as the spray dashed in it, and shaking the water from his
sou'-wester.
To the boys' inquiry of the old man to which place he belonged, "Little
better than a mile to the eastward of where I took you aboard," he
replied; "but when the wind blows as it does now, there's no place for
landing nearer than Penmore harbour. That matters nothing, as we get a
good market for our fish near there, and we have a good lot to sell, you
see." He pointed to the baskets in the centre of the boat, well filled
with mackerel and several other kinds of fish. He told them that his
name was Jonathan Jefferies, that he had married a Cornish woman, and
settled in the parish, and that the lad was his grandson. "Not quite
right up there," he remarked, touching his forehead; "but he is a good
lad, and knows how to do his duty. We call him Tristram Torr, for he is
our daughter's son. She is dead, poor thing, and his father was lost at
sea, we suppose, for he went away and never came back."
The old man thus continued giving scraps of his family history, till the
gloom of evening gave way to the darkness of night. His chief regret at
being out so late was that his old woman would be looking for him, as he
had told her that he expected to be home earlier than usual. The darker
it grew the less talkative, however, he became; indeed, all his
attention was taken up in steering, for with the darkness the wind and
sea increased, till the boat could hardly look up to it. At last Harry
and David began to suspect that though they had escaped from the rock,
they were in no small danger of being swamped, and thus, after all,
losing their lives. Every now and then a heavy sea broke into the boat
and half filled her. Still the boy Tristram said nothing, but turning
round took a bailer from under the thwart, and began energetically
bailing away. Harry and David did the same with their hats, till old
Jefferies handed them a bucket, with which they more rapidly cleared the
boat. They had to be quick about it, for scarcely was she free of water
than another sea came in and again half filled her. It seemed also
pretty evident to them that instead of going to windward she was making
leeway, though, as the tide was still running to the eastward, she was
going in that direction. The two boys were feeling thoroughly chilled
and uncomfortable; they were, of course, wet to the skin, and the wind
was strong and keen, and even when they sat down, by the old man's
advice, in the bottom of the boat, their legs were in water. Still they
kept up their spirits, and when the water washed into the boat they were
glad to jump up and bail it out again. Besides that they were in danger
of being swamped, it appeared to the midshipman and his friend that
there was a great risk of being run down. Already two or three
phantom-like forms had suddenly appeared out of the darkness, and
gliding by were soon lost to sight.
The boy, however, had made no remark about them; suddenly he shouted,
"Grandfather, a sail on the weather-bow."
"About, then," cried the old man. Harry and David looked out, and saw,
almost ahead of them, towering to the skies it seemed, a dark pyramid of
canvas.
"She is a big ship running down channel," said Harry. "She will be over
us! she will be over us!" The boat was at that moment in stays, going
about. Scarcely had he spoken, when there was a loud crack. The mast
went by the board, and as it came down struck the old man on the head.
He would have fallen overboard had not Harry and David seized his coat
and dragged him in.
"Here, pull, masters," cried Tristram, trying to get out both the oars.
In doing so he let one of them go overboard; both would have gone had
not Harry, springing forward, seized the other. But poor Tristram, in
endeavouring to regain the one he had lost, overbalanced himself, and
met the fate his grandfather had just escaped. Harry threw the oar over
to the side on which he had fallen, but the poor lad in vain endeavoured
to clutch it. There was a piercing cry; Harry thought he saw a hand
raised up through the darkness, and then he neither saw nor heard more.
How came it that the boy's cry did not rouse the grandfather? Sad to
say, he lay without moving at the bottom of the boat.
"This is fearful," cried David, feeling the old man's face and hands; "I
am afraid that he is dead, and the poor lad gone too. What are we to
do?"
"Keep the boat's head to the sea as long as we can with one oar, and
then up helm and run before the wind," answered Harry, who knew that
such was the way a big ship would be managed under similar
circumstances. David sat at the helm, and Harry vigorously plied his
oar--now on one side, now on the other, and thus managed to keep the
boat from getting broadside to the sea. It was very hard work, however,
and he felt that, even though relieved by David, it could not be kept up
all night. Several times David felt the old man's face; it was still
warm, but there was no other sign of life. The boat was broad and deep,
or she would very quickly have been turned over. This, however, made
her very heavy to pull, while from the same cause the sea continually
washed into her. At length they agreed that she must be put before the
wind. They waited for a lull, and then getting her quickly round,
hoisted the jib, which had been before taken in, to the end of the
spreet, which they lashed to the stump of the mast. The wind blew as
strong as ever, but the tide having turned there was less sea than
before, and thus away they went down channel, at a far greater rate than
they supposed.
"It is going to be only a summer gale," observed Harry. "When the
morning comes we shall be easily able to rig a fore and aft sail, and
stand in for the shore. The poor, good old man, I am very sorry for
him, and so I am for the boy; but for ourselves it does not so much
matter, except that we shall have to breakfast on raw fish, and perhaps
after all not get home to dinner. My dear mother, too, and Jane, may be
frightened, and I don't like the thought of that."
"Yes, to be sure, I forgot that; I am afraid those at my home will be
frightened too, when they hear nothing of us," said David. "One comfort
is, that we did not keep away intentionally, though, to be sure, it was
thoughtless of us to be caught by the tide as we were. But don't let us
think of ourselves; better let us see what we can do for this poor old
man. I believe that he is still alive, though how to bring him round I
don't know. If we had any liquor to give him we might pour it down his
throat, but as we have nothing we must keep his head up and let him lay
quiet till daylight," said Harry.
David was thoroughly accustomed to boat-sailing, so that he was well
able to keep the boat dead before the wind. The sea came curling up
astern, but none broke over her; had even one done so it would have sent
her to the bottom. A very little conversation took place after this.
Only Harry, fearing that he and his friend might lose heart, every now
and then said something to keep up their spirits. It was somewhat
forced, it must be owned, for they both saw that their position was very
critical. The hours passed slowly by--now the one, now the other took
the helm. Morning broke at last; they looked out, expecting to see the
land aboard on the starboard hand, but not a glimpse of land was
visible--nothing but sea and sky on every side around of a leaden grey
hue--not a streak in the horizon showed where the sun was rising. They
could only guess by the wind the points of the compass. Harry proposed
hauling up for where they supposed the land to be, but David considered
that such a proceeding would be dangerous, and that it would be safer to
run on till the weather moderated and they could get sail on the boat.
They neither of them sufficiently calculated the strength of the tide,
which, running for six hours, had carried them many miles to the
eastward. The old man was alive, but sat perfectly still at the bottom
of the boat. It seemed indeed doubtful if, after remaining in that
state so long, he would ever recover. Their anxiety prevented them from
feeling hungry; indeed, as yet, they fancied that they could not bring
themselves to eat raw fish. They now tried various means to bring the
old man to consciousness, by rubbing his hands and his feet, and
occasionally his forehead. It is difficult to say whether these means
had any effect. At length, at all events, he slowly opened his eyes;
then he closed them again, and they thought that he was dying. Then
once more he opened them, and looked about him with a puzzled and pained
expression of countenance. Now he gazed inquiringly at David--now at
Harry.
"Where is Tristram? where is my grandson?" he asked, speaking very
slowly. "Gone! gone! oh, don't say that. What have you done with him,
my young masters?"
With sad hearts the boys told him how the accident had happened.
"Then may God take me to my boy, my poor boy," he exclaimed hiding his
face in his hands, and sinking back once more into the bottom of the
boat.