THE WRECK ON THE "DEVIL'S TOOTH."
At the best of times the rock called the "Devil's Tooth" was by no
means beautiful. It stood with five points towering into the air like
the prongs of a great tooth, and at its feet were scores of smaller
rocks, mostly hidden by the water.
Strange stories have been told about it. Some have said that on stormy
nights emissaries of Satan sit there, and lure vessels on to
destruction; but at the time I had no thought for such stories. The
terrible crash of the vessel was still echoing in my ears, and, in my
fancy, I heard above the howling of the storm the shrieks of the
perishing.
We could not see much. The moon was full, but had been hidden by the
clouds. Only by the light of the storm, which was nearly darkness,
could we perceive anything. I know that my words are almost
paradoxical, but I can express my meaning in no better way. Still, our
eyes were accustomed to the darkness of a storm, and thus both my
father and I had some idea of what we were doing.
Slowly we made our way. Carefully my father sought to evade
unnecessary danger.
It was terrible work. Now we were lifted on the pinnacle of a wave,
and again we sank deep in dark gulfs, until I thought we should never
rise again. But every man was strong and hardy, every man had braved a
dozen storms, and so we struggled on.
But for my father's thorough knowledge of the coast we must have
perished. With his knowledge there was hope. Suddenly we found
ourselves in comparatively smooth water and out of the beat of the
wind. We had shot into the "lew" (sheltered) side of the rock, and
were able for a moment to rest.
"She is just around the point," said my father.
"Iss, Maaster Trewinion," was the reply.
"The question is, How can we get to them?" said my father. "If we try
to get our boat around there it means death for all of us. The only
means of saving the poor souls, if they are not all gone already, is
for us to scale the rock here and make our way to those on board. Then
they might be brought here one by one."
"You see'd her break on the rock didn' 'ee, Maaster Trewinion?" said
one.
"Yes," replied my father, "she broke close against the long prong."
"Then ef she edn't gone to pieces there may be hope," replied the man;
"but who can climb up here?"
"Two will be enough," said my father; "who'll go first?"
"Let me," said I.
"Not yet, Roger," said my father.
Two others immediately volunteered, and started to climb, but the rock
was slippery, and there was only one way by which the top could be
reached.
They failed in their attempt.
"Tie a rope round my waist, father," I cried. "I've climbed it many
times and know the way."
"Go, then, Roger, my boy, and may God preserve you."
It was only because of my boyish freaks that I knew the easiest way to
reach the summit of the rock. One day I had laid a wager with Wilfred
that I could climb to its summit, and so I had carefully examined it
when the tide was low, and after once climbing it, I had often gone
thither to hunt for the nests of sea-birds.
All my knowledge was necessary now. The stones were slippery as glass,
and I had to feel carefully for the jutting rocks in order to get from
one point to another. A false step, a bit of crumbling rock, a slip of
the hand would have destroyed our hopes, and perhaps have maimed me for
life, if not killed me. Providence, however, was in my favour. After
many a strain and many a struggle I reached the top.
I shall never forget the sight that met me. Even in the hour of death
I think I shall remember the terrible scene. Holding fast by a rugged
peak I could in the stormlight dimly see the five huge prongs of the
"Devil's Tooth," grim and ghastly; while upon them broke the great
black waves!
How the breakers roared! How the wind howled as it beat upon the great
rock on which I stood! Whenever the waves receded I could see the
white foam all round, while the spray beat pitilessly upon me. I had
never seen the like before. It is an awful thing to watch a storm from
the shore; but to stand in the midst of it, to hear it all round you,
is more awful!
I heard a shout from beneath. "Do you see the wreck?" was the query.
I looked in the direction of the long prong and saw the outline of the
vessel.
"Yes," I replied, "but I shall want help to get to her. There! I've
fastened the rope to a rock, let Bill Tregargus come up."
Instantly, by the tugging of the rope, I knew that some one was coming,
and a little later the giant form of Bill Tregargus was beside me.
We made our way to the wreck, and as we drew nearer I was sure I saw
people clinging to the half broken mast. Nearer and nearer we came,
and then, to our joy, we saw that two men had got from the vessel and
were now trying to scale the rock.
"There's hope yet, Bill," I said. "Have you brought the rope with you?"
"Part on't, Maaster Roger, and part I tied to the rock."
I shouted as loud as I could, but I was unable to make them hear. The
thunder of the storm made my little shout of no avail. I called to the
people on the vessel, but there was no response.
Meanwhile the waves swept over the doomed vessel, and roared along the
cruel rocks. There seemed but little chance of our rendering help.
Even we, sheltered as we were by the great prongs of the rock, found it
difficult to stand.
I took the rope from Bill, and, holding one end in my hand, I threw it
straight to the men, who I could see were struggling below. The effort
succeeded. It was immediately caught, and soon we got a man on the top
of the rock.
"Many on board?" I asked.
"Twelve," he gasped.
"Can you make the other one tell the crew to do as you have done?"
We looked again, seeking for the best method to signal, and to our
delight saw that those on the vessel realised that help was come. In
the dim light I could see that they were leaving the vessel.
It was only a question of time. One by one, we pulled them up, some
bruised and beaten, but still hopeful, others gasping for life, and
others again dazed and faint.
We asked no questions; it was our work to save them first and question
them afterwards; and so, one after another, man by man, they reached
the summit of the rock.
At length we came to the last man. He was getting old and stiff. Even
in the night I could see that he was bent and weak.
"Are you all here?" I asked, when he had reached the top.
The old man who had last come up looked around him, and then cried out:
"But where is Miss Ruth?"
"Miss Ruth?" gasped two or three; "is she not here?"
"No woman has come up," I replied.
"Then Miss Ruth is still on the vessel," cried the old man. "Wretch,
wretch, that I am to leave her."
"But she left the vessel," replied another; "why, Tom Poltewan said he
was going to help her down."
"She said she must get something from the cabin," said another, "and I
didn't see her. I thought Mr. Inch would be sure to take care of her."
Then followed a confusion of tongues, and in the storm I did not
distinguish what was said. Evidently in the great anxiety to escape
death a woman had been overlooked. But she must be rescued. The work
which had been begun must be completed. Surely God who had helped us
thus far would not desert us now?
What was to be done, however, had to be done quickly. The vessel had
struck on a great rock, the billows were sweeping over her, and she
might go to pieces any minute. The storm, although it had not yet
reached its full height, was rapidly rising, the wind blew louder and
louder, until we could scarcely hear each other speak. The men we had
saved were battered and bruised and nearly unconscious. As I think of
it now it is a wonder to me that they escaped death.
I tied the rope round my waist, and then asked Bill to lower me down by
the slippery rock. At first he objected to this, but I insisted, and
soon stood upon a broad flat ledge which was close to the wreck.
My object now was to get upon the vessel, but that was not easy of
accomplishment; the great breakers were constantly sweeping over the
vessel, and I began to despair of rendering assistance. I determined
to try, however, and after many vain attempts, reached the deck. To
look for anyone there was madness. No woman could stay in such a
place. Either she had been swept away or she must be down below. In
spite of storm and darkness I found my way there. The vessel was half
full of water, and I felt that it would be worse than useless to
attempt to find anyone in the darkness. Just then I heard a cry for
help.
I cannot describe what followed. I have a dim recollection of grasping
a cold hand, of struggling to the deck, of holding fast by the broken
mast, and of a terrible wave that swept me quite away. After that all
was oblivion.
When I woke to consciousness I was in my own bed, with my father and
Deborah Teague sitting near me. At first everything seemed hazy, then
things became more real, until all the events of the storm flashed
before my mind.
"How did I come here?" I asked.
"God helped us to save you, Roger, my boy," said my father.
"How?" I asked, faintly.
"I got impatient of your being away so long, and so one of the other
lads succeeded in getting on the rock, while I, wanting to be near you,
followed him. I got to the long prong in time to see you swept off the
deck."
"And then, father?"
"Then I went down to the broad ledge and found you both unconscious.
You had been stunned by the awful force with which you were hurled on
the rock."
"And she, father, the--the--one who was with me?"
"We got you both in the boat after awhile. God only knows the
difficulty we had, for the storm rose every minute. Had the rock been
further out at sea I don't think we could have weathered it; but the
gridiron point broke the force of the wind just a little!"
"And is she well, father?"
"A great deal bruised, my boy, and very weak, but she'll recover."
"Who is she?" I asked after being silent for a few moments.
"Her name is Ruth Morton; she is my old friend's only child," answered
my father, slowly.
I turned on my pillow wearily. I was tired and sore, and wanted rest.
"That's right," said my father, "go to sleep again, I'll send the
doctor to you, and he, together with Mrs. Teague, will soon make you
well."
He left the room as he spoke. Deborah looked keenly at me.
"You'll soon git well, Maaster Roger," she said presently.
"I think I shall," I replied, "I am far from dead yet."
"Iss, iss," she repeated, "you'll soon git well, Maaster Roger, but old
Deborah was right. The storm and the stranger comed together, ded'n
um?"
I did not answer.
"Maaster Roger must be of good heart," she continued, "for he ain't a
seed the end of this ere matter yet."
I asked her to explain herself, but she would not. She sat silently by
my bedside until the doctor came and gave me a sleeping draught, after
which I remembered nothing for a long while.
I lay in my bed for more than a week. During that time my mother came
to see me twice, while Wilfred came only once. Evidently they did not
care much about my recovery. I was grieved at this, for in my heart I
loved them sincerely. My father told me, however, that Ruth Morton was
recovering, and was anxiously looking forward to the time when she
would be able to see me, and thank me for what I had done. In spite of
this, however, I did not ask many questions about her, and when, after
some days, I was pronounced well enough to see her, I cannot say I
looked forward with any pleasure to our meeting. Perhaps the reason
for this was that I hated to be thanked, or perhaps it was that I did
not like talking to girls, but be that as it may I was in no happy
frame of mind when my father led me to the room where she sat. I
remember that my blood rushed to my face as for the first time I saw
the one I had probably saved from death.
Perhaps my sadness foreboded the dark days that came afterwards.