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Michael Penguyne: Fisher Life on the Cornish Coast, a fiction by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 10 |
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_ CHAPTER TEN. The "Rescue" gallantly made her way amid the dark foam-crested seas, which rolled in from the westward, each appearing heavier than its predecessor. Uncle Reuben kept gazing out ahead in anxious search of his little vessel, now encouraging his crew with the hopes that they would soon reach the spot which she must have reached, feeling his own heart, however, sink within him as he sought in vain to find her across the wildly tossing waters. The men needed no encouragement: they knew as well as he did that every moment was precious, and yet that after all they might arrive too late. Eban pulled as hard as the rest; he would do his utmost to save the crew of the "Sea-Gull," yet he darkly hoped that their efforts might be vain. On they pulled; often Reuben had to turn the boat's head to breast a threatening sea which, caught on the broadside, might have hurled her over. Now again he urged his crew to redoubled efforts during a temporary lull. For some time he had been silent, keeping his eye on a dark spot ahead. It must be the "Sea-Gull." She was already fearfully near the rocks. The water there was too deep to allow her anchor to hold long, if holding it was at all. Another fierce wave came rolling towards them. Eager as Uncle Reuben was to make his way onward, he was compelled to put the boat's head towards it, and to give all his attention to avoid being buried beneath the foaming billows. The boat rose safely to its summit. A glance seaward told him that now was the time once more to make way to the south. He looked eagerly for his little vessel; the same sea had struck her. He caught but one glimpse of her hull as she was dashed helplessly against the rocks. Still some of those on board might escape. Every effort must be made to save them. Though Reuben told his crew what had happened, none hesitated to pull on. The boat approached the rock, her crew shouted to encourage those who might be clinging to it. The "Sea-Gull" had struck on the northernmost point, within which the sea, though surging and boiling, was comparatively quiet; and Reuben was thus enabled to get nearer to the rock than he could have ventured to do on the outside, where it broke with a fury which would quickly have overwhelmed the boat. Two men were distinguished through the gloom clinging to the rock, at the foot of which fragments of the hapless "Sea-Gull" were tossing up and down in the foaming waves. Another sea such as that which wrecked their vessel might at any moment wash the men from their hold. A rope was hove to them, they fastened it round their waists and were dragged on board. They proved to be Reuben's two sons. The father's heart was relieved, but he thought of his brave young captain. "Where is Michael, where are the rest?" he exclaimed. "Gone, gone, father, I fear!" was the answer. "No, no! I see two more clinging to a spar!" shouted one of the men. "The sea is carrying it away, but the next will hurl it back on the rocks, and Heaven protect them, for the life will be knocked out of their bodies." To approach the spot in the boat, however, was impossible without the certainty of her being dashed to pieces. "Here, hand the bight of the rope to me," shouted Eban, starting up; "I am the best swimmer among you--if any one can save them I can." As he uttered the words he sprang overboard, and with powerful strokes made his way towards the drowning men, while the rest, pulling hard, kept the boat off the rocks, to which she was perilously near. "Here, here, take him, he is almost gone," said one of the men in the water, as Eban approached them. "I can hold on longer." Eban, grasping the man round the waist and shouting to those in the boat, was hauled up to her stern with his burden. Reuben, assisted by the man pulling the stroke oar, lifted the rescued man into the boat, and Eban once more dashed off to try and save the other. "Who is it? who is it?" asked the crew, with one voice, for the darkness prevented them from distinguishing his countenance. No one replied. Reuben hoped it might be Michael--but all his attention was required for the management of the boat, and the rescued man, exhausted, if not severely injured, was unable to reply himself. Eban was gallantly striking out towards the man who still clung to the spar, but he had miscalculated his strength--he made less rapid way than at first. A cry reached him, "Help, mate! help!" He redoubled his efforts; but before he could reach the spot he saw a hand raised up, and as he grasped the spar he found that it was deserted. The brave fellow, whoever he was, had sacrificed his own life to save that of his drowning companion. Eban, feeling that his own strength was going, shouted to those in the boat to haul him on board, and he was himself well-nigh exhausted when lifted over the side. One of Reuben's sons took his oar. All further search for their missing friends proved in vain, and though thankful that some had been saved, with sad hearts they commenced their perilous return to the harbour. Reuben's younger son, Simon Lanaherne, had gone aft and sat down by the side of the rescued man. "He is coming to, I believe." "Which of the poor lads is he, Simon?" asked his father. Simon felt the man's face and dress, bending his head down to try and scan his features. "I cannot quite make out; but I am nearly sure it is Michael Penguyne," answered Simon. "I am main glad if it be he, for poor Nelly's sake," said Reuben. "Pull up your starboard oars, lads, here comes a sea," he shouted, and a tremendous wave came curling up from the westward. The attention of every one was engaged in encountering the threatened danger. "Michael Penguyne! have I saved him?" muttered Eban Cowan, with a deep groan. "He was destined to live through all dangers, then, and Nelly is lost to me. Fool that I was to risk my life when I might have lot him drown. No one could have said that I was guilty of his death." Human ear did not listen to the words he uttered, and a voice came to him, "You would have been guilty of his death if you could have saved him and would not." He had recovered sufficiently to sit up, and, as he gazed at the angry sea around, his experienced eye told him that even now he and all with him might be engulfed beneath it ere they could reach the shore. -------------- Nelly and her grandmother stood with the group of anxious watchers near the beacon-fire, straining their eyes in a vain endeavour to pierce the gloom which hung over the ocean. They could hear the sea's savage roar as it lashed the rocks at their feet and sent the spray flying over them; but they could only see the white crests of the waves as they rose and fell, and every instant it seemed to their loving hearts that these fierce waves came in with greater force than heretofore. Could the "Rescue," stout and well-formed as she was, live amid that fierce tumult of waters? Might not those who had bravely gone forth to save their fellow-creatures, too probably perish with them? Still, notwithstanding their fears, they listened hoping to hear the cry which those in the boat would raise as they drew near the shore, should success have attended their efforts. Again and again they asked each other, if the boat would not now be returning? Oh! how long the time seemed since they went away! A short half-hour had often sufficed to go to the Gull Rock and back. An hour or more had elapsed since the "Rescue" left the harbour, and no sign of her could be discerned. "We must take into account the heavy seas she will have to meet; they will keep her busy for a goodish time with her bows towards them," observed an old fisherman. "Uncle Reuben knows what he is about, and if there is a man can steer the 'Rescue' on a night like this he can. A worse sea, in which a boat might live, I never saw. There is little likelihood of its getting better either, by the look of the sky." The last remark was not encouraging; still, while a possibility remained of the return of the boat, none among the anxious group would, in spite of the rain and spray and fierce wind, leave the point. At length a sharp-eyed youngster darted forward to the extreme end of the rock, at the risk of being washed off by the next breaker which dashed against it. "I see her! I see her!" he shouted. There was a rush forward. Dame Lanreath held her granddaughter back. "You cannot bring them in sooner, Nelly," she said, "and, my child, prepare your heart for what God may have ordered. Seek for strength, Nelly, to be able to say, 'Thy will be done!'" "I am trying," groaned Nelly; "but O granny, why do you say that?" "It is better to be prepared for bad tidings before they come," answered the dame; "but it maybe that God has willed that Michael should be saved, and so let us be ready with a grateful heart to welcome him; but whichever way it is, remember that it is for the best." The dame herself, notwithstanding what she said, felt her own heart depressed. A simultaneous shout arose from the men and boys who had gone to the end of the point. "The boat! the boat! It is her, no doubt about it," they cried out, and then most of them hurried away to the landing-place to welcome their friends and assist them on shore. The dame and Nelly followed them. Some still remained at the point, knowing that there was yet another danger to be passed at the very entrance of the harbour, for a cross sea breaking at its mouth might hurl the boat, in spite of the efforts of the rowers, against the rocks, and those who had toiled so long, worn out with fatigue, would require assistance, for, unaided, their lives might be lost. As the boat drew near her crew raised a shout in return to the greeting, of their friends. Perfect silence followed as the "Rescue" neared the dangerous point. In an instant it was passed, though a sea breaking over her deluged the crew. "Are they all saved?" shouted several voices. "Some, but not all; but our boys are here: tell my dame," shouted Reuben as the boat glided by. Nelly heard the answer. With trembling knees she stood on the landing-place supported by Dame Lanreath, while the light of several lanterns fell on the boat and the figures of those in her as she came alongside. Eager hands were ready to help the well-nigh exhausted crew on shore. Nelly tried to distinguish the countenances of the men--the light falling on her pale face as she stooped over. "He is here, Nelly; Michael is safe," cried Uncle Reuben, and Simon, with two or three others, speedily assisted Michael on shore. Nelly, regardless of those around, threw her arms round his neck, and kissed his lips and cheeks, while the dame with others helped him to move away from the quay. "I shall soon be strong again, Nelly," he whispered. "God be praised for His mercies to us. My sorest thought was, as I felt myself in the breakers, that you and granny would be left without me to help you." At the moment that Nelly's arms were about her betrothed, a man in the boat, refusing the aid of others, sprang on shore. As he passed, Dame Lanreath caught a glimpse of the haggard features of Eban Cowan. He rushed on without stopping to receive the greetings of any of those gathered on the quay, and was quickly lost to sight as he made his way up the glen. "Eban seems in a strange mood," observed Simon. "He might have stopped till Michael and all of us had thanked him for his brave act; he seems as if he was sorry he had done it, or was wishing that he was with the other poor fellows who are lying out there among the rocks." Michael was too weak to walk. Uncle Reuben invited him to come to his cottage; but he wished to return home, and there was no lack of willing arms to carry him. "Where is David Treloar?" he asked. "If it had not been for him I should have been washed off the spar, but he held me on till I was hauled on board." "David! poor fellow! he is among those who are gone," was the answer. "If it was he who was on the spar with you, he would not, it seems, quit it till he thought you were safe; and meantime his strength must have gone before help could reach him." "Then he lost his life to save mine," said Michael, deeply grieved. "And how was I saved?" "By that brave fellow, Eban Cowan, who jumped overboard, and brought you on board," answered Uncle Reuben. "Where is he, that I may shake him by the hand, and thank him?" inquired Michael; but Eban was not to be found. Michael hoped the next morning to be able to go to the mill and thank Eban. Nelly wondered at what she heard, recollecting Eban's visit to her a few hours before; but she said nothing. Indeed, by that time, with a sail, a litter had been rigged, on which his friends carried Michael to his cottage, Dame Lanreath and Nelly following them. The rest of the population of the village hastened to their homes, several with hearts grieving for those who had been lost. They did not, however, find any lack of friends to comfort them--for all could sympathise where all knew that the like misfortune might some day happen to themselves. Uncle Reuben, too, had ample cause for grief. The little vessel on which he depended for the subsistence of his family had gone to pieces, and it would be a hard matter to obtain another. And honest David and the other lads in whom he was interested were gone; but his young boys were saved, and he felt thankful for the mercies granted him. Michael, carefully watched over by Nelly, and doctored by the dame, soon recovered his strength. As soon as he was strong enough, he told Nelly that he must go and tell Eban how thankful he was to him for saving his life. Nelly, on this, gave him an account of what had occurred on that eventful evening of the wreck. He was greatly astonished. "But he is a brave fellow, Nelly; and though I cannot say what I should have been ready to do to him had I known it before, yet he saved my life, and risked his to do so, and I must not forget that. I must forget all else, and go and thank him heartily." "Go, Michael," said Nelly, "and tell him that I bless him from my heart, and wish him every happiness; but do not ask him to come here. It is better for his sake he should not be seeing me and fancying that I can ever care for him." Michael promised to behave discreetly in the matter, and set off. The heavy gale was still blowing. He wondered as he went along how the path was so much steeper and rougher than it used to be, not aware how greatly his strength had decreased. On reaching the mill he saw old Cowan standing at the door. He inquired for Eban. "Where is he? That's more than I can tell you, lad," he answered. "He went away the other evening and has not since come back. I do not inquire after his movements, and so I suppose it is all right." Michael then told the old man of the service his son had rendered him. "Glad he saved thy life, lad; he is a brave fellow, no doubt of that; but it is strange that he should not have come in to have his clothes dried and get some rest." None of the household could give any further account of Eban. Michael, again expressing such thanks as his heart prompted, returned home. Several days passed and rumours came that Eban had been seen on the way to Falmouth: and his father, who had become anxious about him, setting off, discovered that he had gone on board a large ship which had put in there to seek shelter from the gale. He had left no message, and no letter was received by any of his family to say why he had gone, or what were his intentions for the future. During the winter two or three seizures of smuggled goods were made; they belonged to the band of which Eban was supposed to have been the leader: and old Cowan, whose venture it was known they were, became gradually downcast and desponding. His fishing-boats were unsuccessful; he offered one for sale, which Uncle Reuben and Michael purchased between them; another was lost; and, his mill being burned down, he died soon afterwards broken-hearted, leaving his family in utter destitution. In the spring Michael and Nelly married. The wedding, if not a very gay one, was the merriest which had occurred in the village for many a day, nor were any of the usual customs in that part of Cornwall omitted. Dame Lanreath declared that she felt younger than she had been for the last ten years, or twenty for that matter, and Uncle Reuben had recovered from his rheumatism with the warm spring weather. The pilchard harvest in that year was unusually early and abundant, and Michael was able to increase the size of his house and improve its appearance, while he gave his young wife many comforts, which he declared no one so well deserved. No one disputed the point; indeed, all agreed that a finer and happier young couple was not to be found along the Cornish coast. They were grateful to God for the happiness they enjoyed, and while they prayed that it might be prolonged, and that their lives might be spared, they did not forget that He Who had the power to give had the right to take away. But, trusting to His mercy and loving-kindness, they hoped that He would think fit to protect them during their lives on earth, while they could with confidence look forward to that glorious future where there will be no more sorrow and no more parting. [THE END] _ |
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