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Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 29. We Lose Our Boat |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. WE LOSE OUR BOAT "We're going to take the boat again, Mrs Bonnet," said my father, as we passed Uggleston's cottage. "Oh, I'm sure master would say you're welcome, sir," said the rosy-faced old lady. "It's a beautiful afternoon for a row." Ten minutes after we were well afloat, and Bigley and I were pulling, making the water patter under the prow of the boat, as it rose and fell on the beautiful clear sea. Below us were the rocks, which could be seen far enough down, all draped with the brown and golden-looking weed; and we felt as if it was a shame not to have a line over the side for pollack or mackerel on such a lovely afternoon. But there was to be no fishing, for my father evidently had some serious object in hand, telling us how to pull so as to keep regularly along at a certain distance from the mighty wall of rock that was on our left till, about a mile from the Gap, where there were a great deal of piled-up stone in huge fragments that had fallen from the cliff, he suddenly told Bigley to easy, and me to row. Then both together, with the result that we pulled right into a little bay where the cliff not only seemed to go up perpendicularly, but to overhang, while in one place at the bottom a dark patch or two showed where caves ran right in. As we neared the shore he bade us cease rowing, and taking one of the oars he threw it over the stern, and sculled the boat in and out among the rocks that were half covered by the sea, threading his way carefully, and finally beaching her on a soft patch of sand. We all leaped out, and the little anchor was thrown ashore to keep the boat safe while we went away. "For neither of you will care to be boat-keeper," said my father smiling. "What are you going to do?" I asked as we walked up together. "Don't ask questions, my boy," he replied quietly. "If I tell you, of course you cannot, without seeming mysterious, refuse to tell your companions, and I do not care to say much at present. It does not matter, but I prefer not to talk." We walked up straight to the caves, which were very beautiful, covered as their mouths were with ivy and ferns, while over each a perfect sheet of dripping rain fell like a screen and threatened to soak anyone who attempted to enter. We did not attempt it, for my father led us away to the west, and soon after, hammer in hand, he was examining the cliff-face and the various blocks of stone that had fallen down in days gone by. We walked on for a time, but it soon became too monotonous, and we took to something to amuse ourselves, to my father's great satisfaction, for he evidently now preferred to be alone. We did not watch him, but to me it seemed evident enough that he was searching for minerals, of which he believed that he had seen some trace. As for us, we rather enjoyed our ramble, for this was a part of the shore that we had not explored for some time, and the number of pools and hollows among the stones were almost countless, while at every turn we had to lament the absence of our baskets and nets. Sometimes we climbed on to some difficult-looking pile, at other times we crept in under the cavernous-looking places, where, at high tide, the sea rushed and roared. Wearying of this, we explored the edge where high-water left its marks, to examine the curious shells washed up, and the varieties of sea-weed driven right under the perpendicular wall of rock, that towered up above us fully two hundred feet before it began to slope upwards as a hill. Then after laughingly saying that if the French came, they would have to bring very long ladders and use them at low tide if they wanted to get into England, we sauntered back towards where we had left my father, but chose our path as nearly as we could close down by the edge of the water. The tide was coming up fast, but this was all the better, as it was likely to bring in objects worthy of notice; but we found nothing, and at last the time had so rapidly glided away that evening was coming in as it were on the tide. We looked about us, and found that we were well inside the little bay where we had first landed, its two arms stretching well out as jagged points on either side, among whose rocks the sea was foaming and plashing, although it was quite calm a little way out. "No getting back, boys, now," said Bigley, "if it wasn't for the boat." "Yah! Nonsense!" cried Bob. "If the tide was to catch me in a bay like this, I should make a run and a jump at the cliff, catch hold of the first piece of ivy I could see, and then go up like a squirrel." "Without a tail," I added laughing. "Hark at clever old Sep Duncan," sneered Bob. "He'd walk up the cliff without touching. It's a strange thing that we can't come out without your saying something disagreeable, Sep." "I'm very sorry," I said with mock humility, for I had just caught sight of Bigley's face, and he was grinning. "Well, don't do it again, then," said Bob pompously, and then we listened, for a voice hailed us from somewhere among the wilderness of piled-up rocks. "Ahoy, there! Ahoy!" "Here we are, father!" I shouted, and trudging on we met him coming down from a place where he had evidently been sitting smoking his pipe. "Didn't you hear me hail before?" he said as we met. "No, father." "Why, I've been shouting at intervals for this last hour, and I should have been uncomfortable if I had not thought you had common sense enough to take care of yourselves." "Oh! We minded that, sir," said Bob importantly. "We are older now than we used to be." "Yes," said my father dryly, "so I supposed. Well, let's be off; we've a long row, and then a walk, and it's time to feed the animals, eh, Bob Chowne?" "Yes, sir," said Bob; "but I've got ever so much farther to go before I can get anything to eat." "No, you have not," said my father in his driest way. "I should think there will be enough for us all at the Bay." "I--I didn't mean," said Bob in a stammering way; but he had turned very red in the face, and then he quite broke down and could get no further, being evidently thoroughly ashamed of the way in which he had spoken. My father noticed it, and changed the conversation directly. "Found anything very interesting?" he said; "anything good among the rocks?" "No, father," I said; "nothing much." "Why, you blind puppy!" cried my father; "nothing? Don't you know that every pool and rock hole teems with wonders that you go by without noticing. Ah! I shall have to go with you, boys, some day, and show you a few of the grand sights you pass over because they are so small, and which you call nothing. Why, how high the tide has risen!" "Didn't we leave the boat just beyond those rocks, sir?" said Bigley. "Yes," said my father. "One of you will be obliged to strip and wade out to it. No, it couldn't have been those rocks." "No, sir," said Bob Chowne; "it was round on the other side of this heap." He pointed to a mass of rock lying right in the centre of the embayment, a heap which cut off our view on one side. "I suppose you must be right, Chowne," said my father; "come along." "I feel sure it was here, father," I said; "just out here." "No it wasn't," cried Bob pettishly. "I remember coming round here after we left the boat." Bigley and I looked at each other, but we said nothing, only followed my father and Bob Chowne as they went round to the other side of the pile of rock, and there lay the sea before us with the tide racing in, and sweeping over the rocks, but no boat. "It's very strange," said my father; "we must have left it in one of these places." "Perhaps it was behind the other heap, sir," said Bob eagerly. "What heap?" said my father. "That one, sir," said Bob, pointing towards the west. "Impossible!" cried my father, and then he stopped and waited, while Bigley, who had, by getting on my back and shoulders, managed to climb up the highest part of the mass which stood like an island out of the stones and sand, shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked all round. It was so still that the lapping of the evening tide sounded quite loud, and the querulous call of a gull that swept by was quite startling. "Well," said my father, "can you see the boat? No no, don't look out there, my lad, look in here close." "She isn't in here close," said Bigley quietly. "She must be, Big," cried Bob. "Here, let me come." "I see her!" cried Bigley just then. "No. Yes. There she is, sir!" he said, pointing to the east. "She's broke adrift, and is floating yonder half a mile away towards the Gap." "Tut, tut, tut!" ejaculated my father. "Are you sure?" "Yes, sir," said Bigley, "I'm quite sure. I was quite sure before that we left her where we looked first, but I didn't like to say so." "Here, give me your hand," said my father. "You, Sep, let me try and get up over you. Bob Chowne, you had better stand by him to strengthen him. I'm heavy. Reach down, Bigley, and give me your hand." My father was active enough, and with our help scrambled up on to the top of the rock, where he gave one glance at the speck Bigley pointed out, and then uttered an impatient ejaculation. "Come down," he said. "You're quite right, my lad. But how can that boat have got away? The grapnel was good." "I'm afraid I know," said Bigley sadly. "I don't think anyone looked to see if the painter was made fast to the ring. I didn't." "And as I'm an old sailor, who ought to have known better, I confess that I did not," said my father. "Well, boys, it's of no use to cry over spilt milk. If the boat is not recovered unhurt, Mr Jonas Uggleston will have a new one, and I must apologise for my carelessness. Now, then, we must walk home." Bigley looked at him in rather a curious way; and as I divined what he meant I glanced at the two points which projected and formed the bay, and saw that they were being swept by the waves to such an extent that it would have been madness to attempt to get round either wading or swimming. "Yes," said my father, speaking as if someone had made this remark to him, "it would be impossible to get round there. Come along, boys, help me down; I can't jump. Let's see for a place to climb the cliff." We helped him down by standing with our heads bent upon our arms, as if we were playing at "_Saddle my nag_," then he lowered himself till he could rest his feet upon our shoulders, and the rest was easy. "We mustn't lose time," he said, as he stood on the rough shingle; "the tide is running in very fast." It was quite true, and before long it would certainly completely fill the bay. _ |
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