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Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 12. We Make Another Slip |
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_ CHAPTER TWELVE. WE MAKE ANOTHER SLIP I'm afraid that we thought very little about Bigley's escape from a horrible death, for by nine o'clock the next morning he was over at the Bay, and while we were talking outside, Bob Chowne came trotting up, holding on to the mane of his father's pony, for the doctor had ridden over to see my father. Half an hour later we were down on the beach to look for our baskets and nets which had been covered by the tide, and which we were too much exhausted to hunt for after our escape. For a long time we had no success, for, until the tide ran lower, we were not quite sure of the spot; but we hung about hour after hour till the cluster of rocks were uncovered, and as soon as the water was low enough we were down at the place, and, but for the labour necessary to bale out the lower pool, we should, I am sure, have crawled in again to try how it was Bigley was held. It did not take much examination to show that, however, for it was plain enough now to see how one part of the opening was a good deal narrower than the other; and here it was that Bigley had become fast, never once striving in his horror to get back, but always forward like an animal in a trap. As I stood there looking, the whole scene appeared to come back again, and I shuddered as I seemed to see my school-fellow's agonised face gazing appealingly in ours, and for the moment the bright sunny day looked overcast. "Come away," I said nervously; "let's look for the nets." "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Bob, who had quite recovered his spirits and took up his usual manner; "look at old Sep! He's frightened, and thinks it's his turn to be stuck in the rock." "Never mind; let's look for the nets," said Bigley, who seemed to be more in sympathy with me, and we set to work, finding one before long, buried all but a scrap of the net in the beach sand and shingle. This encouraged us, and we hunted with more vigour, finding another wedged in between some blocks of rock, and soon after we discovered something that we had certainly expected would have been swept out to sea, namely, one of the baskets. It was the one which contained the crab, and it had been driven into a rock pool surrounded by masses of stone, which had held it as the tide retired. To our great satisfaction the crab was still inside alive and uninjured; but we found no more relics of our expedition. The other baskets were gone with the eel and prawns, and the third net was wanting. I must except, though, one of Bigley's shoes, which had been cast up four hundred yards from the rock pool, and lay at high-water mark in a heap of sea-weed, battered wreck-wood and shells. I am not going to enumerate all our adventures during those holidays; but I must refer to one or two more before passing on for a time to the more serious matters in connection with the silver mine in the Gap, where, while we were enjoying ourselves on the shore or up one of the narrow glens baling out holes to catch the trout, business matters were progressing fast. Our mishap was soon forgotten, and we determined to have another prawning trip, for, as Bob Chowne said, there was no risk over it, if we didn't go and stick ourselves between two stones ready for the tide to come in and drown us. "But it was an accident," said Bigley gravely. "Oh, no, it wasn't," cried Bob; "an accident's where you can't help it--where a boat upsets, or a horse falls down, or a wheel falls off, or you slip over the edge of the cliff." "Well, that was an accident too," I said; "wasn't he nearly drowned?" "No," cried Bob, "not nearly; and how could it be an accident when he crept into the hole, and turned round and stuck fast when he tried to get out?" It was of no use to argue with Bob that morning, as we three ran down to the shore after finding that old Uggleston's lugger was at sea, crushing the weed under our feet, and enjoying the curious salt smell that ascended to our nostrils. We had another net, and a big basket, borrowed of our Sam. It was not so handy as our old ones, for two of us had to carry it; but as I said it would hold plenty, and we could lay a bit of old net over the prawns to keep them from flicking themselves out. "I don't believe we shall catch any to-day," said Bob, who was in one of his hedgehog fits, as Bigley used to call them. But he was wrong, for after walking about a mile along the shore, so as to go right away from the cottages, the first pool we stopped at gave us three fine fat fellows. In another we were more successful, and as we roamed: farther and farther away the better became our sport. This time we went on past the Gap, and under the tremendous cliffs that kept the sun from shining down upon the shore in winter. Then on and on with our numbers always increasing, for we passed very few pools that did not contain one prawn at least. "I tell you what," said Bob, as we stopped to rest, net in hand; "we'll go to old Big's this afternoon, and get Mother Bonnet to boil the prawns, and then have a thorough good feast. You'll find us some bread and butter, won't you, Big?" "Of course," he replied; "but we haven't got them home yet." "No," said Bob, "we haven't got them home; but you're not going to get stuck in a hole this time, are you?" Bigley shook his head, and the remarks were forgotten, as we discovered, just washed in by the tide, a good-sized cuttlefish, that was quite dead, however, having been killed I suppose by being bruised against the rocks, so we were not favoured with a shower of ink. A little farther on we came to a bare smooth patch of dark sand, over which the sea ran gently, sweeping before it a rim of foam which sparkled and displayed iridescent colours like a soap-bubble. Here we found our first jelly-fish, a beautifully clear disc of transparency about the size of a penny bun, and from which, when we plunged it in the first rock pool, hung down quite a lovely fringe of the most delicate hues. Perhaps it was too nearly dead from being washed ashore, for it did not sting, as some of these creatures do slightly, when encountered while bathing. We thought the jelly-fish curious, but it was not good to eat, so it was left in the little rock pool with a few tiny shrimps, to get well or die, and we went on kicking over the little shells, getting our feet wet, and finding more prawn-haunted pools, as we made for one big rock which lay close to the water's edge, a quarter of a mile farther on, where it stood up in the midst of a clump of smaller ones, the beach around being tolerably level for some distance. "That's where old Binnacle always goes when he wants to find a lobster," said Bigley; "and I shouldn't wonder if we get one, for he hasn't been there lately." "How do you know?" I said. "Because he hasn't sold one, nor given us one, nor had one himself." "There, hark at him!" cried Bob. "How can you tell?" "Easy enough." "But how?" "Haven't lobsters got shells?" "Yes." "And aren't they red?" "Why, of course they are." "Well, don't they always throw the shells out on the heap by the pig-sty?" cried Bigley. "And there hasn't been one there since I came home. Old Bill has been too busy making a new net to go lobstering." "I say, what a day for a bathe!" cried Bob suddenly, as we approached the big rock which formed out here a point, from which a series of smaller rocks ran right to sea, for the heads of some were level with the surface, and others only appeared at times. "Why, you couldn't bathe here," said Big; "you ought to know that." "Why not?" cried Bob. "Because the tide hits against those rocks, and then runs right out to sea like the river runs down the Gap after a storm." "Oh, I don't believe all these old stories," cried Bob contemptuously; "and suppose it did run out, couldn't I swim out of the stream and come ashore?" "No." "Oh, couldn't I? Precious soon let you see." "Hi! Look there," cried Bigley, "there's father's boat." "Where?" I said. "Out yonder. He has been with Binnacle Bill to Swincombe, and that's them coming back." "Why, you can't see anything but a bit of sail," cried Bob scoffingly, as he shaded his eyes and looked far-off into the west. "No, but I know the shape of it," cried Bigley. "There isn't another boat hereabouts with a sail like that." "I don't believe you know it," cried Bob. "It's a Frenchman, or a Dutchman, or a Welsh boat." "Well, you'll see," said Bigley decisively, and the matter dropped, for we were close up to the big rock now, a mass that stood about a dozen feet above the beach, and to our great delight there were several little pools about, all of which seemed to be well occupied by the toothsome delicacies we sought. The baskets were set down and we were soon hard at work catching prawn after prawn; but, though we peered into every crack, and routed about as far as we could reach, there was no sign of a lobster large or small. "Never mind," said Bob sourly, "they're rather out of season if you do catch them now. I don't mind." For another half hour or so, with the tide coming whispering and lapping in, we went on prawning, getting a dozen fine ones. Then Bob insisted upon bathing, and it was only by an effort we stopped him from going into the water at so dangerous a spot. It was Big who took off his attention at last, by telling him that he could not scale the big rock and get on the top. "Tchah!" cried Bob sneeringly; "why, I could almost hop on it." We laughed at him, and he began to peer about for one of the surrounding pieces to form a step to help him part of the way, but all were too distant, the great stone lying quite isolated. There was one spot, though, where the big stone was split, as if some gigantic wedge had been driven in to open it a little way, and here, as it was encrusted with limpets, there seemed to be a good prospect for us to climb up the roughened sides. As it proved it was like many tasks in life, it looked more difficult than it really was, and by the exercise of a little agility and some mutual help we contrived to get to the top, where there was a large depression like a caldron, scooped out by the action of the sea upon a heavy boulder lying therein, and which looked as if, when the waves beat, it must be driven round and round and to and fro. We all sat down with our legs in the hole, following Bigley's example as he set himself to watch the coming of his father's boat, which was growing plainer now every minute, and trying, by spreading all the sail she could, to reach the Gap. "I wonder how long she'll be?" said Bob, sitting there with his chin upon his hands. "About an hour," replied Bigley. "What! Coming that little way? Why, she's close here." "It isn't close here, and the boat's a good six miles away, I know," replied Bigley. "Distances are deceiving by the sea-side." "Hark at the doctor," cried Bob; "he's going to give us a lecture. I say, this isn't school." It was very pleasant seated there on that smooth, warm platform of rock in the glowing sunshine, and with the soft sea-breeze fanning our cheeks. There was plenty of room, and before long we were all lying down in various attitudes. Bob turned himself into a spread-eagle by lying upon his back, and tilting his cap over his nose as he announced that he was going to sleep. We both laughed and did not believe him, as we each took up the position most agreeable to him, Bigley stretching himself upon his breast, folding his arms and placing his chin upon them, so as to gaze at his father's boat with undivided attention. As for me, I lay on my side to stare at the great wall of cliff that ran along the land, and curved over and over into great hills and mounds. It was very beautiful to watch the many tints in the distance, and the bright colours of the broken rock. The upper parts were of a velvety green; then in the hollows where the oak-trees flourished there were endless tints, against which the soft grey of the gulls, as they floated along, seemed to stand out bright and clear. We three lads had been walking and climbing and exerting ourselves for hours now, and the strange restful sensation of stretching one's self on that warm, smooth mass of rock was delicious. To make it more agreeable, the soft wind fanned our faces, and the sea seemed to be whispering in a curious lulling way that was delightful. I remember raising myself a little to look at Bob Chowne in his lazy attitude. Then I stared at Bigley, who had doubled back his long legs, as he watched the boat, whose sails seemed to be coming nearer now, and then I sank back in my former attitude, to gaze at the cliffs and the soft blue sky flecked with silvery gauzy clouds. Then one of the big grey gulls fixed my attention, and I lay staring at it hard, and watching its movements, as I wondered why it was that it should keep flying to and fro, for nothing apparently, turning itself so easily by a movement of the tail, and curving round and round without an effort. That gull completely fascinated me. Sometimes it floated softly so near that I could plainly see its clear ringed eye and the colour of its beak, the soft white of its head and under parts, the delicate grey of its back, and the black tips of its wings, which formed soft bends that sustained the great bird with the slightest exertion. For now and then it beat the air a little, then the wings remained motionless a minute at a time, and the secret of flying seemed to me to be to float about in that clear transparent air, just as a fish did in the sea. It was very wonderful to watch it, feeling so dreamy and restful the while. The gull seemed to have fixed its eyes on me, and to know that I was noting all its graceful evolutions, and I felt that it was flying and floating and gliding to and fro, and round and round, now up, now down, on purpose to show off its powers to me, for it never occurred to me that the bird was waiting till my eyes were closed to make a pounce down upon the big basket and help itself to the prawns. No, it all seemed done for my special benefit, and lulled by the lapping of the sea, and with the fanning motion of the gull's wings having a curiously drowsy effect, I lay there watching--watching, till I seemed to be able to float with the gull, and to be gliding onward and onward through space, up and down, up and down, in a soft billowy, heaving movement, with the blue sky above me, the green cliff-side draped with oak and ivy below, and all about me, and pervading me and sustaining me as the sea did when I swam, there was the soft pure air. Was I a gull or myself? I did not know, only that I seemed to be floating deliciously on with wide-spread invisible wings, and that there was no such thing as the earth and shore, over which I laboriously plodded, for me. It was one soft dreamy ecstasy, such as comes to the weary sleeping in the summer breeze out in the open air. Now and then I seemed to hear the wild softened harshness of the gull's cry, then all was still again, and I was floating on and on, wishing nothing, wanting nothing, only to go on, when all at once a huge roc-like bird seemed to sweep over between me and the sunshine, to grasp me as Sindbad was seized, and raise me up. But this roc spoke and cried harshly: "Quick! Wake up! You have been to sleep." "Sleep?" I said, rousing myself. "Sleep?" "Yes; we've all been to sleep, and--Here, Bob! Wake up! Wake up!" He shook Bob Chowne, who was so sound that it was with difficulty he could be made to sit up, and in that little interval I realised why it was that Bigley looked so scared. It was plain enough: tired out with our prawning, we had been thoughtless enough to let our weariness get the better of us, and while we had slept the enemy had not only approached, but surrounded us and cut us off from the shore. In fact, as we stared about us, a wave struck the rock and sent its soft spray right up to where we were standing. "Here, what's the matter?" cried Bob. "I say, what is it? Oh, I say, where are the prawns?" Prawns? They and the baskets were far away now, while the nets might be anywhere. Between us and the shore the water for a good hundred yards was six feet deep at least, and there was a swim of a hundred and fifty before we could begin to wade, while, if we did not start at once, there would be a swim of nearly half a mile, for the points of the little bay where we were would soon be covered, the rocks were perpendicular, and to stay in the bay was to be drowned. _ |
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