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Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 11. A Terrible Danger |
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_ CHAPTER ELEVEN. A TERRIBLE DANGER Bigley dragged his arm out of the crack and came scuffling back to us, and as soon as he reached the opening we could see that he looked quite pale. "Why, Big, what is it?" I cried eagerly. "Don't frighten him. He has seen the ghost of an old cock shark," cried Bob Chowne grinning. "Oh, I don't know," he panted. "Something soft, and cold, and alive." "Why, it was a jelly-fish," we said together. "Did it sting?" "No. You wouldn't find jelly-fishes in a hole like that. It felt like a tremendously great polly-squiggle with a big parrot's beak, and my hand nearly went in." "Get out!" said Bob, "there are no big ones." "How do you know?" retorted Bigley. "That felt just like a large one." "Did he take hold of you with his suckers?" I said. "No, I didn't give him time." "If it had been a polly-squiggle it would have got you fast directly with its suckers," I said oracularly. "Never mind what it was, old Big. Go in and fetch it out again." "No; one of you two go, I don't like," said Bigley. "You can't see where you're putting your hand; and suppose he bites it off?" "Why, then, you could have a wooden peg," said Bob sneeringly. "Here, come out, my poor little man, and let me go in. I'll soon fetch out my gentleman, you see if I don't. Here, come out." Bob Chowne never meant to go in. His face said as much as he looked round at me; but his words had the effect he intended, for Bigley grunted and went back as far as the narrow crack in the grotto would allow, and boldly thrust in his hand. "Mind, Big," I said seriously, "be ready to snatch away your fist." He did not answer, but we heard him draw his breath hard; then there came a splashing noise, and directly after our school-fellow backed towards us. "I've got him," he shouted, his voice sounding hollow and strange. "What is it?" "I dunno," he cried, and then, wrenching himself round, he dropped something soft down upon the rock. "Why, it's a crab!" I cried. "A soft one," shouted Bob. "He can't nip now." As he spoke he poked the curious-looking object with his finger, making it wince and threaten with its claws, but they were perfectly soft, and it was evident that the creature had only just crept out of its old shell, and was hiding away in the dark hole waiting for the new armour to form. "Well, he is a rum one," said Bob, growing bolder. "Why, he's just like a counterfeit is when you pull his tail out of a whelk shell." "Not quite so soft," I said, gaining confidence and handling the crab in turn, for it was not so fleshy feeling as the back part of hermit crabs, which we called counterfeits in our part of the world. "What shall we do with if?" said Big. "It isn't good to eat now." "Kill the nasty, bloaty thing, and throw it in for bait for the fishes." "No, no," I said, "put it down and let it creep back. It will grow into a fine crab, and we know its hole and can come and get it some day when the tide's down." "That's it," said Big; and taking the pulpy, soft crab, which pinched at his hands without the slightest effect, he crept back and thrust it into its hiding-place once again. We two were looking in after him when--_thud_!--_plash_!--came a wave, breaking just below us and drenching us from head to foot, while a quantity of the water rushed into our baled-out hole, filled it, and began running swiftly up the channel, so swiftly that we saw at a glance it would only take another or two to fill the upper pool. "Here, come out, Big. Quick!" I cried. "Tide's coming in. Now, Bob, get the baskets and nets." I ran down a few yards, and was only just in time to snatch mine up before a wave washed right over the spot where they had lain. For the tide was coming in rapidly, and, as I have shown, we were on a part of the shore that was only bare about once a month. "All right," cried Bob. "I've got mine and old Big's." "Where are Big's shoes?" I said. "Down by the pool. Come on, Big, old chap," shouted Bob. "I'll get them," I said, and I ran to the bottom pool and had to fish them out of the bottom where they had been left. As I took them out I felt ready to drop them, but I did not, for I flung them and my net and basket as far up the shore as I could, and held out my hands to Bigley, who was looking out at me from the grotto-like place. "Why don't you come out?" I cried. "Can't you see the tide's coming in?" "Yes--yes," he said in a curious hollow voice, "I can see, but I can't move. I'm stuck fast. Help!" I felt a chill of horror, and in those moments saw the tide rising higher and higher till it had filled the little cavern and drowned my poor school-fellow, we his companions being unable to drag him out. Those thoughts only occupied moments, but they made an impression that I have never forgotten, and I don't think I ever shall have the memories weakened. I saw it all plainly enough. Poor fellow! He had been startled by the incoming tide and tried to creep out, but not in about the only part that would permit of his passing, but in the first that offered, and he had become fixed, and, as in a few words he explained, the harder he tried to free himself the tighter prisoner he became. "Here, Bob! Bob!" I shouted in such a tone of anguish that he came running from the back of the rocks to where I was standing knee-deep in water. "Get out!" he shouted as soon as he saw me. "You can come. Look here, if you play me a trick like--" "No, no, don't go," I shouted. "Bob: he's fast!" Bob dashed down to me now as quickly as the rough place would let him. He had thrown down his load at my first appeal for help, and as he came splashing through the water he looked horribly pale. He saw the position in an instant, and stood by me too much horrified to act; and, as he told me afterwards, his thoughts were just like mine. How long would it take to go to the Gap and bring Bigley's father with a boat? "Can't you get any farther?" I cried at last as a fresh wave came rushing in, and nearly swept me off my legs. "No; I'm fast; I can't move," said Bigley in a hoarse whisper. "Run for help." "No, no," shouted Bob. "Don't go, Sep. We must get him out." The curious dreamy feeling of helplessness had left us both now; and, taking hold of our companion's hands, we set our feet against the rock and dragged with all our might, while poor Bigley struggled and strained, but all in vain. He had by his unaided efforts got to a certain distance and then stopped. Our united power did not move him an inch. We stopped at last panting, and all looking horror-stricken in each other's faces. It was a calm enough day, but down there among the rocks the tide rushed in with such fierce power and so rapidly that we were being deluged by every wave which broke, while at intervals the greater waves threatened to be soon big enough to sweep us away. "Don't stop looking," cried Bob Chowne frantically. "Sep, Sep! Pull, pull!" He dashed at poor Bigley again, and we dragged with all our might; but the efforts were vain, and again we stared at each other in despair. "Try again!" I cried breathlessly, and with a horrible feeling coming over me as I once more seized my school-fellow's hand. Bob followed my example, and again we dragged and hauled at the poor fellow, whose great eyes stared at us in a wildly appealing way that seemed to chill me. It was of no use. We could not stir him, and we stopped again panting, as a bigger wave struck us and drove us against the rocks, and ran gurgling up into the grotto where poor Bigley was fixed. "Shall I run for help?" groaned Bob, who was crying and sobbing all the time. I shook my head, for I knew it was of no use, and then dashed at poor Bigley again, to catch hold of his hand, not to drag at it, but to hold it in both mine. I don't know why I did it, unless it was from the natural feeling that it might encourage and comfort him to have someone gripping his hand in such a terrible time. I tried not to think of the horror as the water splashed and hissed about us, and gurgled horribly in the grotto; but something seemed to be singing in my ears, and I heard again the shrieking of a poor boy who was drowned years before by getting one leg fixed in a rift among the rocks when mussel gathering and overtaken by the tide. He, poor fellow, was drowned, for they could not drag him out, and it seemed to me that our poor schoolmate must lose his life in the same way unless we could devise some means to rescue him. We looked round despairingly, and for a moment I tried to hope that the tide might not, upon this occasion, rise so high; but a glance at the top of the rocks showed them to be covered with limpets and weed, indicating that they were immersed at every tide, as I well enough knew, and I could not suppress a groan. "Sep," said poor Bigley, drawing me closer to him, with his great strong hand, and gazing at me with a terribly pathetic look in his eyes. "Sep, tell poor father not to take on about it. We couldn't help it. An accident. Tell him it was an accident, will you?" I could not answer him, and I turned to Bob Chowne, who was standing with his fingers now thrust into his ears. "Bob!" I cried. "Bob, let's try again!" He sprang to poor Bigley's other hand, and we dragged and tugged with slow steady strain and sharp snatch, but without any effect; and every now and then, as we pulled, the waves came right up, and drove us against the rock. "It's of no use, boys," said Bigley at last. "I'm fast." "Help!" yelled Bob Chowne with all his might; but in that great solitude his voice had no more effect than the wail of a sea-bird. There was not a soul in sight either on cliff path or the shore. Out to sea there were sails enough, small craft and goodly ships going and coming from Bristol and Cardiff; but no signals on our part were likely to be seen. And besides, if they had been understood, it would have been an hour's row to shore from the nearest, and before a quarter of that time had elapsed the rocks where we stood would be under water. "Big, Big!" I cried piteously in my despair and wonder to see him now so pale and calm; "what shall we do?" "Nothing," he said in a low whisper. "Only be quiet now; I'm going to say my prayers." I dropped down on my knees by him and hid my face, and how long I knelt there I don't know; but it was till I was lifted by the tide and driven heavily against the rocks. "It's of no use," said Bigley then, after a tremendous struggle. "I can't get out. You must go." "For help?" I said. "No; run both of you, or you'll be drowned." As he spoke a wave came in, broke and deluged us, and I don't know what my words would have been if Bob Chowne had not wailed out: "Nobody sha'n't say I didn't stick to my mate. I sha'n't go. I won't go. Sep Duncan may if he likes, but I shall stop." He caught frantically at poor Bigley's collar as he spoke, set his teeth, and then closed his eyes. "No, no! Run, Bob; run, Sep!" panted Bigley, as if he was being suffocated; "the water will be over us directly, and you must go and tell poor father where I am." "I sha'n't go and leave you two," I said sullenly; and I also caught hold of him, set my teeth, and swung round as a bigger wave than ever came rolling smoothly in, and regularly seemed to leap at us as it broke upon the rocks, and after deluging us, rushed up, and came down again in a rain of spray. What followed seems wild and confused, for the sea was rising fast, and we were deluged by every wave, while the greater ones that came every now and then threatened to snatch us away; but everything was as if it occurred in a dream. Somebody said to me once that Bob Chowne and I behaved in a very heroic manner, standing by our school-fellow as we did; but I don't think there was much heroism in it. We couldn't go and leave him to drown. I wanted to run away, and Bob Chowne afterwards said that he longed to go, but, as he put it, poor fellow, it seemed so mean to leave him to drown all alone. At all events we stayed, and, as I say, what followed appears to me now to have been dreamy and strange. The water came splashing over us always, but every now and then a great solid wave drove us together, lifting us to strike against the rocks, and then letting us fall heavily, but only to leap in again, and snatch us up as they beat, and swirled, and hissed, and dragged at us like wild creatures, and if we had not held on so tightly to poor Bigley, we must have been washed outwards from the shore. As I say I don't know how long this lasted, only that we were getting more and more helpless and confused, when a tremendous wave came rolling in and struck full in the grotto-like opening where poor Bigley was wedged. I felt as if my arms had been suddenly wrenched from their sockets, and then I was being carried out by the retiring wave. It was so natural to us sea-side boys that I involuntarily struck out, tossing my head so as to get the water out of my eyes, and then I saw that Bob Chowne was swimming too, a short distance from me. My next glance was in the direction of the little cave now some ten yards away, about whose mouth the water was rising and falling; and as I looked, there was nothing but water; then Bigley seemed to crawl out quickly into the next rising wave, and then he too seemed to be swimming towards the shore. It appeared to be so impossible that I could not believe it, or do anything but swim in amongst the rocks where the long slimy sea-tangle was washing to and fro; but there was no fancy about it, as I found, for Bigley was standing knee-deep in the water, and ready to give us each a hand as we staggered in. "Why, Big," I exclaimed, "how did you manage to get out?" He could not answer me, nor yet Bob Chowne, when he repeated the question, but walked slowly and heavily up towards the cliff, and sat down upon a dry stone, to rest his head upon his hands, while we respected his silence. It was some time before he could speak, and when he did, it was in a dull half-stupefied way, to explain what was simple enough, namely, that when that last big wave came, it struck him violently and buried him deep, the blow, and the natural effort to escape from the water, making him shrink backwards into the hole, a task he achieved without much difficulty; while, when, as the wave retired, he made another effort to pass out, he involuntarily tried where the rocks were a little farther apart, or placed his body in a different position, for he glided out over the slimy rock with ease. His explanations were, however, like our questions, confused; and we had only one thought now, which was to get home and obtain dry clothes, so we parted as we reached the nearest combe, Bigley going one way bare-footed, and we the other, Bob Chowne afterwards going home in a suit of mine. _ |
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