DIGBY'S NEW PONY--ATTACKED BY SMUGGLERS--THE OUTLAWS' CAVERN--A VOYAGE--
THE GALE--AN ILL WIND THAT BLOWS NO ONE GOOD--DIGBY SHIPWRECKED.
"You beautiful little Sweetlips, many a jolly ride I'll have on you,"
cried the young Squire of Bloxholme Hall, as he patted his pony's neck
while he cantered along over the ground, just crisping with the newly
set in frost. He had intended to go only as far as the park gates, but
the air was so refreshing, and the feeling of finding himself once more
in the saddle was so exhilarating that, seeing the gate open, he could
not help dashing through it, and giving his pony the rein and a cut with
his whip, galloping along a smooth piece of turf which ran for some
distance by the side of the road. "I shall be back quite time enough to
dress for dinner," he thought to himself, "and Sweetlips likes the fun
as much as I do." He galloped on a little longer. "Oh, this is
delightful! We must go a short distance further, Sweetlips," he
exclaimed. "We will turn back, then, and you shall have a capital feed.
I'll tell John Pratt to give it you. Oh, how kind is papa. You are a
first-rate pony, indeed you are, old fellow." On he went; the pony
certainly seeming to enjoy the gallop as much as his young master. "Now
we really must go back, Sweetlips," cried Digby, pulling in his rein,
for the gloom of evening was rapidly increasing. He did not perceive
that several men were coming quickly along the road close to him. "Now
for Bloxholme, at your best speed, my pony, he shouted in his glee."
"Hillo! stop, master!" cried one of the men, springing forward and
seizing his rein. "Who are you?"
"Let go my bridle," answered Digby, trying to free himself. "I am Mr
Heathcote's son, if you wish to know."
"Ho, ho! are you, indeed, youngster?" said one of the men. "We are in
luck, then. I say, though, you are not going home just now. Come along
with us."
"Along with you! Indeed I will not," answered Digby, with very natural
indignation.
"Ho, ho, my cock of the woods, don't crow so loudly, or we may have to
squeeze your windpipe," exclaimed another of the ruffians coming up.
All Digby's spirit was raised. He struck out right and left with his
whip, and endeavoured to force his pony out from among them. In vain
were his efforts. He, however, struck the ruffian who held the reins so
severe a blow across the eyes that the man let them go, and he might
have escaped, had not, at the same moment, two other fellows seized him
by the collar of his jacket, and he was dragged to the ground. The
pony, finding his head free, sprang forward, and before either of the
men could catch him, had galloped far beyond their reach, though one of
the most active ran on in the hope of catching it. Digby in the
scuffle, while bravely trying to escape, let go his whip, which fell to
the ground unperceived by his captors. Few other words were spoken.
They dragged him rapidly along the road they had come, which led past
Dame Marlow's cottage. One of them threatened to blow out his brains if
he made the slightest noise, and suspecting that they might put their
threat into execution, he refrained from crying out. Still, as he went
along, he was considering all the time how he could effect his escape.
He counted eight or ten men in the party who had got hold of him. When
they arrived at Mile-End gravel-pits, they turned off and took the path
to Dame Marlow's cottage. They seemed to be expected there. When they
entered, the old woman was leaning over the fire, stirring a large
caldron boiling on it. As the bright light fell on her thin, sharp
features, and her long, bony arm, almost bare, was stretched out
grasping the ladle, with her red cloak thrown over one shoulder, her
long, straggling hair, and her fantastic dress, she looked, indeed, like
one of the witches Digby had read of, and he could not help feeling that
the outrage of which he was the victim, was a just retribution for the
trick he had once played here--a retribution probably brought about by
her machinations.
"We've caught the young bird sooner than we expected, Dame," said one of
the men. "But, we've more work on hand to-night. We'll leave him with
you and Dick Owlett till we come back. Take care that he doesn't fly
off."
Master Dick Owlett, who had hitherto kept in the background, now made
his appearance. He had grown so much stouter and bigger since Digby saw
him last at Osberton, that dressed as he was, in a rough seaman's
costume, he could scarcely have recognised him.
Digby knew that he had been sent off to sea, but he learned, from his
conversation with the old woman, that he had deserted and found his way
back to his old haunts.
One of the men placed a bench near the fire. "Sit down there,
youngster," he said. "Mind you don't stir till we come back. Dick,
keep an eye on him."
Dick Owlett scowled at Digby, and drawing a pistol from his coat-pocket,
sat himself down at the other end of the bench, eyeing him as a
bull-terrier does his master's bundle he has been placed to watch. The
rest of the men then hurried out, leaving only old Marlow, who lay
groaning on a bed at the further end of the cottage, the Dame, and
Owlett watching Digby.
When the men were gone, the Dame came and placed herself before Digby,
eyeing him with a very sinister glance. "So, young Squire," she hissed
out, "the old Squire will learn that the poor can love their children as
much as the rich. He sent my boy across the sea with the help of the
law, and never will he come back to gladden his old grandmother's eyes;
and now I'm going to send his son far away, and may be he'll never come
back to brighten Bloxholme Hall with his smiles and his laughter.
Revenge is sweet, and there are many to-night who find it so, and there
are some who will find it bitter, too."
Digby heard these words, but scarcely comprehended their full meaning,
or was aware of the very terrible misfortune threatening him. He sat
still for some time, while the old woman's words were ringing in his
ears. "I don't much fear her threats, and I ought to be ashamed of
myself in allowing the old woman, and that young rascal, not so many
years older than I am, to keep me a prisoner," he thought. "I'll break
away from them." He sprung up to rush to the door, but before he had
moved further, the click of the pistol-lock struck his ear.
"I'll fire," exclaimed Owlett, with a dreadful oath. "I'm not going to
be informed against, and sent off to prison for this night's work."
"Young Squire, he'll kill thee," cried the old woman, placing her long,
skinny hands on his shoulder, and forcing him down to his seat with a
strength he could not resist.
He was too indignant to expostulate, but he eyed Dick Owlett, and
considered whether he could compete with him in a tussle, and wrest the
pistol from his hands. Then he recollected that if he made the attempt,
he should have the old woman attacking him in the rear with her sharp,
talon-like fingers. Whenever she moved, he felt that the Dame's keen
eye was upon him. Even while preparing the supper for her guests, and
stirring the caldron, her glance was constantly turned towards him.
Then, also, Owlett had his finger on the lock, and the muzzle of the
pistol pointed at his breast. A full-grown man might have felt very
uncomfortable under such circumstances, so, considering that Owlett
might possibly put his threat into execution, much against his will he
sat still.
A long time seemed to pass, and then, at length, the band of ruffians
came back. From their appearance and conversation Digby supposed them
to be smugglers. They seemed highly delighted with their performances
that evening; and having hurriedly discussed their supper, they declared
that they must be off without further delay.
Digby now thought it was time to speak out.
"What is it you want with me?" he asked. "I wish to return home."
"That's what you will be crying out for many a day, youngster," answered
one of the men. "No, no, you'll go along with us."
In vain Digby expostulated, and threatened, and at last entreated his
captors to let him return home. They only laughed and sneered at him.
Had he himself only been the sufferer, he felt that he would not have
condescended to use any arguments but threats with such ruffians; but he
knew the misery his disappearance would cause his parents and sisters.
"Poor dear little Kate; how she will cry about me," he said to himself;
and he thought again and again how he could get away.
The men buttoned up their coats, slipped a rough pea-jacket over his
shoulders, and put a tarpaulin hat on his head, which they tied down so
that he could not throw it off.
"Gag him," said one of them; and he found a handkerchief passed tightly
over his mouth, effectually preventing him from crying out. Two of them
then took him by the arms between them, and, nodding to Dame Marlow,
went out. She merely cast one very unpleasant glance at him, but said
nothing. The whole party followed, and walked along the road at a rapid
rate, every now and then looking behind them as if they expected to be
pursued. In about twenty minutes they reached a low public-house, well
known as the resort of smugglers and other bad characters. Two carts
were standing before the door; jumping into them, without entering the
house, they drove on at a rapid rate. Digby looked up at the sky, which
was beautifully clear. Mr Nugent constantly gave his pupils lessons in
practical astronomy, and Digby was therefore able to discover that they
were driving towards the sea. They kept, however, considerably to the
west of Osberton. At last they reached the edge of a cliff; before him
lay spread out the ocean, now sleeping in calm grandeur. The men
roughly pulled him out of the cart, and two of them taking him as
before, between them, made him descend a narrow zig-zag path down the
face of the cliff. Down, down they went, till they reached a small
curving beach, the high cliffs towering above it, and without any
communication with the other part of the shore. A boat lay there; she
was quickly launched, and the men, getting in, took Digby with them.
He had been full well sure that search would be made for him, but he saw
that the difficulty of discovering him would be much increased by this
proceeding of the smugglers. He had been unable to drop anything on the
road by which he could be traced; and now embarked, and, as he thought,
about to be carried out of the country, he was brought to the verge of
despair.
The smugglers, however, had not rowed far before they once more turned
the boat's head towards the land; and he soon found that they were at
the foot of a lofty cliff.
"You may sing out now, youngster, as loudly as you like; no One will
hear you whom we fear," said one of the men, undoing the handkerchief
secured round his mouth.
Up the cliff the whole party climbed till they reached a cave in the
face of the rock. Digby had not supposed so curious a place existed in
that part of the country. The entrance was of no great size, but when
they had gone a little way, he saw that it branched off into several
broad and lofty galleries. Into one of them the smugglers turned, when
a wooden partition appeared before them, and going through a small door,
he found that they were in what looked like a large hall, lighted with
lamps hung from the roof. A fire burnt in the centre with pots and
caldrons cooking over it, and near it were several long tables and
benches, sufficient to accommodate a considerable number of persons.
The glare of the fire fell on numerous packages, and bales, and casks,
piled up round the walls of the cave, while several ship's bunks and
rough-looking bedsteads were arranged at the further end of the hall.
Several persons already occupied the place. Two of them were women, so
Digby judged by their dress, though they were the roughest specimens of
the female sex he had ever seen; the rest were men and boys. They all
evinced great curiosity about him, and made many inquiries as to how he
had been taken, and what was to be done with him. Digby did not hear
the answers made to these questions, so that he was left in the dark as
to the fate intended for him. The party were soon seated at the tables,
and fish, flesh, and fowl, in ample quantities, were placed before them.
Digby was invited to join them in somewhat a rough manner, but with no
unkind intention, apparently. At first he thought that he ought to
refuse, but he had grown very hungry, and he felt that it would be
foolish not to make himself as comfortable as he could. Room was made
for him near the fire, and one of the women brought him a plateful of
the most delicate of the morsels of food which she could pick out.
"Poor little chap, it's hard for you to be taken away from home just
now; but cheer up, may be they'll let you go again, by and by."
"Hillo, Bet! what are you talking to the child for?" exclaimed a man,
whom Digby had for some time suspected to be the captain of the band.
The men, however, addressed him in the same familiar way that they spoke
to each other, and called him "Nat Charnick." Though roughly dressed,
his costume was neater than that of the other men; he spoke more
correctly also; in appearance there was, perhaps, less of the ruffian
about him. He was of moderate height, strongly built, and of a fairish
complexion, but the expression of his countenance showed that, in
essential points, he was in no way superior to the men who surrounded
him. The ruffian crew appeared, from some reason or other, to be
accustomed to look up to him, and a word from his lips speedily brought
the most unruly to order. Food, though somewhat coarsely dressed, there
was in abundance, and spirits of various sorts were passed round and
drunk, as if they had been so much water. When, however, the carouse
appeared to be growing fast and furious, Nat Charnick called his crew to
order, and reminded them that they had work to do that night. In an
instant the men put aside their glasses, and rising from their seats,
each one loaded himself with one of the casks, or bales, I have
mentioned, and went out of the tavern. Digby sat still, wondering what
was going to be done. The men, however, quickly returned and took up
more bales or casks. Everybody, even the boys and women, were employed
in the work. Like ants they kept going continually backwards and
forwards, till the heaps of goods sensibly diminished.
"Oh, oh!" said Digby to himself, "here is a possibility of my effecting
my escape, and I will carry out a burden with the rest, and as soon as I
have put it down, I will try and make off, or hide myself somewhere
outside the cavern."
Accordingly he jumped from his seat, and putting a bale of silk on his
shoulders, he followed Dick Owlett and some other lads out of the cave,
as he fancied, unobserved by any one. How delighted he felt at getting
into the open air, keen and cold as it was.
"In a few minutes I shall be free," he thought; "if I once get to the
top of the cliff won't I run on? I doubt if even the fastest among the
smugglers would overtake me."
On he went with his burden, which was a pretty heavy one. They soon
reached a narrow ledge on the face of a perpendicular cliff. Ropes were
hanging over it, and the smugglers securing their bales and casks to
them, away they were hoisted rapidly out of sight; but bitter was
Digby's disappointment when he found that there was not a spot near
where he could by possibility conceal himself.
"Well done, youngster," said the voice of Captain Charnick; "I like to
see a lad willing to make himself useful; you'll soon become like one of
us, and spend a much more happy and free life than you would at school
or at the old Hall there."
Digby found himself caught in a trap, and that the smugglers might not
suspect the design he had entertained, he was compelled to run backwards
and forwards with the goods, as they were doing, till the cave was
completely empty. The exercise had, however, the effect of making him
so thoroughly tired, that he was glad to throw himself on a bed pointed
out to him; and in a minute he was fast asleep. When he awoke the
smugglers were astir, and the women were bending over the fire, busy in
preparing breakfast. He was invited, as before, to partake of it.
"They cannot intend to do me much harm, or they would not feed me so
well," he said to himself; and he very wisely resolved to keep up his
spirits, and to make himself as much at home as possible. He thanked
the women in a cheerful voice for their kindness, and laughed and
chatted in a perfectly natural and free way with every body round him.
Dick Owlett looked surprised and rather suspiciously at him.
"You are a merry as well as active youngster, I see," said Captain
Charnick, coming up to him; "keep alive, and we will give you employment
before long."
"Thank you," answered Digby, "I am much obliged to you for the good
supper and breakfast you have given me, and if you will pay me a visit
at Bloxholme Hall, I shall be very happy to give you as plentiful ones
in return."
The smugglers laughed heartily at the remark.
"It's a doubt whether you'd like to see us at Bloxholme Hall, in the way
we should go there," remarked one of them; "howsomdever, we are not
likely to put you to the trial."
Breakfast over, most of the men left the cave; some of the remainder
hauled out ropes and sails, and began working away busily on them, while
others employed themselves in overhauling sea-chests, casks, and sacks
of provisions, or in cleaning and repairing arms. It was very evident
that the smugglers did not spend an idle life in the cavern; indeed,
from what Digby had hitherto had an opportunity of remarking, he could
not help thinking that the same industry employed in any of the lawful
callings of life, would have procured them far more wealth and comfort
than they could in any way at present enjoy.
Thus the day passed on. Digby, however, found that he was still a
prisoner, for whenever he went towards the entrance of the cavern, Dick
Owlett jumped up and made a very significant sign to him to go back
again, and as Dick strengthened his argument with a loaded pistol in his
hand, Digby saw that it would be wise to submit.
It was late in the afternoon when the greater number of the band
hurriedly entered the cavern. They evidently brought some information,
which was not of a pleasant character; the rest sprung quickly to their
feet--the sails were rolled up--the rigging was put in a form to be
easily carried; sea-chests, and cases, and baskets, were brought out and
placed near the entrance ready to be moved; indeed, as far as Digby
could judge, the smugglers were preparing to desert the place
altogether. The Captain was still absent. Soon after these
preparations were concluded, he made his appearance. Whatever had been
the information previously received, he corroborated it.
"Be smart, my lads," he exclaimed; "the lugger is ready, and the revenue
people are on the wrong scent. We've no time to lose, or they may be
back on us."
At these words the men loaded themselves with the various articles which
they had got ready to move, and one after the other left the cavern.
Digby hoped that he was to be allowed to remain, and to find his way
home as best he could after the smugglers had gone; but again he was
doomed to disappointment.
"Come, youngster, you are going with us," said Captain Charnick, who had
remained behind to see that nothing was left which he required.
Digby began to expostulate.
"Why, just now you were, I thought, all ready to join us," exclaimed the
Captain, with a laugh. "Come along, though. I want you, that's
enough."
Saying this, he took Digby by the arm in no very gentle way, and led him
out of the cavern and down the face of the cliff. At the foot of it, so
close in that she looked as if she must be touching the shore, lay a
large lugger. The cliffs there formed a bay, in which she lay, and from
her position, no one, except those who stood near the mouth of the
cavern, could by any possibility see what was going forward on her deck.
Digby found, on reaching the foot of the cliff, that nearly all the
things just carried from the cavern had been conveyed on board her. At
last everything was embarked. Even now Digby hoped that he might be
allowed to get away.
"Come, my lad, wish good-bye to old England," said the Captain, taking
him by the arm, and lifting him into the boat. In another minute he was
on board the lugger; the boats were hoisted in, the anchor was got up,
and sail being made, with a fair and strong breeze she stood down
channel.
Digby burst into tears; it was long since he had cried so bitterly. No
one seemed to pity him; but they allowed him to grieve on by himself.
The smugglers themselves, however, it was evident, were not free from
anxiety. A bright look-out was kept in every direction, and more than
once the lugger's course was altered to avoid a strange sail. The
weather, too, had changed for the worse, and had become very
threatening. To increase their difficulties, a thick mist and driving
rain came on, so that they could often see but a short distance beyond
the vessel. Still they ran on under all sail. The evening of a short
winter's day was drawing on, when suddenly, the mist clearing off, a
large cutter was seen right ahead, standing across their course.
"Down with the helm! Haul aft the sheets!" cried the Captain; and the
lugger was brought on a wind. The movement, however, did not escape
those on board the cutter, for she immediately went about, and stood
after the smuggler.
That she was a revenue vessel Digby had no doubt; and now he hoped that
his emancipation was near. But the lugger proved herself to be a very
fast craft; and though the cutter carried all the canvass she could
bear, she did not appear in the slightest degree to be overhauling them.
"We are not in her clutches just yet, my lad," said Captain Charnick, as
he saw Digby anxiously watching the cutter. "Once upon a time we would
have fought her, and beat her off, but now we must trust to our heels.
We've a pair of smart ones, let me tell you; and if you expect ever to
step aboard that cutter you are mistaken."
Digby's heart sunk at hearing the Captain express himself with so much
confidence. The wind continued increasing; and Digby heard some of the
smugglers say that it was shifting about very much, and that it would
settle down into a regular south-westerly gale. In spite, however, of
the strong wind, neither the smugglers nor those on board the cruiser
appeared inclined to shorten sail. The lugger tore through the water
with a mass of foam at her bows, which came flying in sheets over the
deck. The sea, too, was getting up; and as she rushed on she seemed to
be making such headlong plunges into it, that Digby sometimes thought
that she would never rise again. There was a little binnacle on deck.
Digby got a look at the compass within it, and found that the cutter was
once more running up Channel. This again raised his hopes; he thought
that there was a better chance of the lugger being overtaken by the
revenue cruiser, when he had little doubt that he should be able to make
himself known. The gale increased, the waves danced more wildly than
ever, their white crests gleaming amid the gloom of night, which rapidly
came on. Still the smugglers would not shorten sail; they trusted to
the stout little craft which had carried them safely through many a
storm, and to the darkness of night, to enable them to escape.
Digby kept on deck in spite of the way the vessel tumbled about, and the
seas, which every now and then washed on board, soaked him through. He
had been for some time standing holding on by the weather bulwarks,
looking anxiously ahead, and wondering whether the lugger could possibly
mount again over the next foaming wave. Had he not learned a good deal
about sailing from Toby Tubb, he would have been much more alarmed. As
it was, the smugglers remarked to each other that he was a brave little
chap, and would make a good seaman some day or other, when he was one of
them. Digby might have been flattered with the remark, but he would
have rather shrunk from the career they proposed for him. He had stood
thus for some time, when turning round, and looking astern, the cutter
was no longer to be seen. In vain he tried to pierce the gloom; nothing
could he see but the dark waves, and the white spray, dancing up towards
to the sky.
"There's no fear, we've given her the slip this time," he heard one of
the smugglers remark; and soon all were congratulating themselves on
their escape from their pursuer.
Poor Digby felt very miserable. The gale came down stronger and
stronger. The lugger held on her course; the smugglers no longer spoke
to each other; only new and then the Captain issued some order in a loud
tone, which all hastened to obey. And Digby judged from this that they
were far from contented with the state of affairs. Some sail was taken
off the vessel, but she still had too much; she at times heeled over
fearfully, and the seas, with terrific force, washed on board. Digby
felt that he would have been carried away, but he had bound a rope fast
to the weather bulwarks, and securing it round himself, he was preserved
from a fate so dreadful. Hour after hour passed, and still the lugger
went tearing through the dark waters.
"You'd better go below and turn in, youngster," said the Captain,
good-naturedly, to him. "There's some brandy and water and a biscuit
for you in the cabin; it will do you good."
Digby thanked him, but said that he would rather stay where he was, and
see what was going to happen.
Sometimes the wind seemed to lull, and Digby hoped that the storm was
going to be over, but it again breezed up, and blew harder than ever.
The smugglers stood some at the helm, and others clustered round the
masts. As the storm increased, the darkness became more intense. The
vessel seemed to be rushing into a mass of black; the rain came down in
torrents; thunder, in terrific peals, rolled overhead; and forked
lightning darted from the skies. Digby felt almost worn out, and ready
to sink--a dreamy unconsciousness came over him. Had he not secured
himself by the rope he would have fallen to leeward, and been washed
overboard. How long he had continued in this state he could not tell.
He was aroused by a terrific crash; he was up to his waist in water--a
tremendous sea had struck the vessel; the masts had gone by the board;
and many of the crew had been washed away. He could hear their shrieks
of agonising despair us the vessel was swept on away from them; and
they, with all their sins on their heads, were left amid that dark sea
to perish miserably. The survivors, bold seamen as they were, held on
to whatever they could grasp, knowing that, till daylight, they could do
nothing towards getting up a jury-mast, on which they could set sail, to
carry them into port. Were they destined ever again to see the bright
light of day? On went the lugger, impelled by the force of the wind,
bodily to leeward. Suddenly there was a crash; the vessel seemed to be
lifted up and down; she came again on a rock, which split her into
fragments. Shrieks of terror and despair sounded in Digby's ears. He,
too, cried out--it was that God would save him. He was alone, tossed
about by the wild waters, clinging to a part of the bulwarks. Soon the
voices of the once bold and hardy smugglers were silent. Digby felt
himself lifted up and down by the waves; the spray, in thick masses,
flew over him. The loud roar of the sea dashing on the shore almost
deafened him. There was a grating sound as if he was close to the
beach; he touched the sand with his feet. Now he was carried away; but
another wave rolled in, and sent him high up against a rugged rock. He
had become separated from the plank to which he had been but loosely
secured. He grasped hold of the rock; the wave rolled back, and he
found his feet touching the soft sand. He ran on as fast as he could
move, but he ran against a rock. Again he heard the roar of a wave as
it came rolling up, but it did not even reach his feet. He clung to the
rock till it had retired. Once more he tried to work his way on, but he
could discover no outlet, and stooping down, he found that the sand was
dry and soft; he therefore suspected that he had been thrown into a
cave. It did not, happily, occur to him that the tide might be rising,
and that even then the sea might pursue him. He crawled up to the
furthest end, where the ground was dry, and the air comparatively warm;
but he himself felt numbed and chilled, and could not help thinking that
he should be frozen to death. As he sat there he began to consider how
he could make his escape. In the dark he could do nothing. It was
still some hours to daylight he supposed. He wished that he could make
a fire; it would show him where he was, and help to dry his clothes. He
felt about, and found that there was an abundant supply of wood, but it
had been so long there that much of it was soft as tinder. Not long
before, one of his companions had given him a present, which every boy
prizes--a flint and steel, with some tinder; it was in a small tin case.
He expected to find that the water had got into it, and spoilt it, or
that it had been washed out of his pocket. He felt for it; there it was
safe. He scraped all the wood he could find round him, and then took
out his box; it was well made, and had proved water-tight. With a
grateful heart he struck a light, and put a piece of the burning tinder
under some of the soft wood; then, stooping down, he blew it steadily
till, to his joy, the wood caught, and very soon burst into a flame. He
piled more wood on till there was a good blaze. Looking around, he
found that he was in a large cavern, with the water filling its mouth,
and which ran up some way directly from it, and then turned sharply
round to the left. He had happily been guided to this turning, where he
was sheltered from the wind, and was well supplied with fuel. The
blazing fire again made the blood circulate through his numbed limbs,
and dried his clothes. He looked about and could not see how he could
escape; but he felt, after the merciful way in which he had been
preserved, that it would be gross ingratitude to doubt that means for
saving him would be provided.
"Where are all the people who so lately were with me, full of life, on
board the lugger?" he thought to himself; "not one of them remains in
existence. I alone have been saved among them all, though the weakest,
and least able to help myself."
Such, indeed, was the case. His strength had hitherto been wonderfully
kept up, but he was beginning to grow very faint and hungry, and he felt
as if he should not be able to hold out much longer. He, however,
exerted himself to the utmost to keep up his fire; he knew that his life
might depend on it. It was so cold and damp, though fortunately not
freezing, that he thought if he went to sleep, and let his fire go out,
he might be so chilled and benumbed as to be unable to rally. Whenever,
then, he felt very sleepy, he got up, and walked round and round his
fire to arouse and warm himself. How anxiously he looked for daylight;
how he longed for the storm to cease, that he might try and make his
escape.
Poor Digby; he was very young, and not altogether very wise, but there
was good stuff in him, as the way he behaved on this occasion showed;
but it required care and attention to bring it into permanent practical
use.
At length he grew very weary; he was obliged to sit down. He drew as
near the fire as he could venture to sit; his eyes closed, and his head
dropped on his knees. All sorts of strange scenes passed before him: he
felt as if he was still struggling in the waves; that he heard around
him the shrieks of the drowning wretches. He started up--a cry or shout
rung in his ears. The fire was still blazing, for the drift-wood burnt
slowly; the bright sunlight, too, was streaming in at the mouth of the
cavern, and the storm was over.