the lugger Zekle was in--he said he'd tell you. I got into the water
this side of Carn Du, and meant to swim to the buoy, cut her adrift, and
swim back, but I was caught in the race. Help me out--I'm dying! Oh!
help me, Harry! help!"
Harry Paul made no effort to drag the wretched man out, but gazed
thoughtfully downward into his eyes, while, under the influence of that
stern gaze, Penelly quailed and shuddered, his blue lips parted, his
eyes seem to start, but he could not speak.
"Mark Penelly," said Harry at length; and his voice sounded deep and
angry, and like the utterance of a judge, to the despairing wretch
beneath him--"Mark Penelly, I never did you any harm."
Penelly stared at him wildly, but he could not answer.
"You have always made yourself my enemy, and tried to ruin me in the
sight of others. It is to you I owe the character of being the greatest
coward in Carn Du. You said I was a miserable cur--a dog. Every dog
has his day, and now it is mine. It is my turn now, and I mean to have
revenge."
As he spoke his hands tightened round the shivering man's wrists till
they seemed like iron bands. He changed his position rapidly, and as
Penelly closed his eyes, lowered the miserable wretch down till the
water covered his lips, and then, by one strong effort, dragged him out
on to the weedy rock, where he lay motionless and half dead, his eyes
fixed upon Harry, and evidently waiting for the end.
"Poor wretch!" said Harry to himself, as he gazed down at the helpless
man, and, loosening and taking off his woollen jersey, he wrung it
tightly, getting out as much water as he could, and then drew it on the
stony cold figure lying in the washed-up dry brown weed. This, too, he
dragged over him, piling it up in a heap, to try and give him some
warmth, while the exertion sent a thrill of heat through his own
half-naked frame.
Fortunately, the sun's rays came down hot and bright, and the rock grew
warmer, so that by degrees the terribly void look began to leave Mark
Penelly's face, and at last, when Harry held out his hand, saying, "Do
you feel better?" Mark Penelly caught it in both of his, clung to it,
and, turning half over on his face, laid his forehead against it, and,
forgetting his years of manhood, lay there in his weakness, and sobbed
and cried like a child.
They were on that rock till nightfall, when a passing lugger bound for
the fishing-ground answered their hail, and sent a boat to take them
off, giving them the news that Harry's boat had been found ashore, with
only one oar, and Mark Penelly's clothes beyond Carn Du, and that they
were mourned as lost.
This mourning was soon, however, turned into joy; but before the two
young men parted at the harbour Mark said humbly:
"Forgive me, Harry, and I'll try to be another man."
With a frank smile on his face Harry held out his hand, and giving the
other's a hearty grip he exclaimed:
"Ask God to forgive you, Mark; I am going to forget the past. I thank
Him that I saved your life."
End of Project Gutenberg's A Terrible Coward, by George Manville Fenn