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Fire Island, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 13. Billy Wriggs' Baccy-Box |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTEEN. BILLY WRIGGS' BACCY-BOX It was dull, heavy, slow-going Billy Wriggs who saved their lives. One moment he stood scratching his head, the next he had made a rush like a bull, thrown himself down on his side, and somehow managing to get a good grip of the mate's waistband, had swung him over towards Smith. "Run him farder away," cried Wriggs, and he shuffled himself then to Panton just as the rift opened widely. There was a quick rustling sound, and a dull thud as Panton was gripped hard--flesh as well as clothes, and swung over the sailor into comparative safety. But it was at the man's own expense, for he began to glide downward in a slow, gradual way, first his legs, then his body, till only his chest was visible as he dug his fingers into the ground and tried to hold on. At such a time it might have been expected that the man would shriek out in agony and despair, slowly subsiding as he was into a rift which promised a death so horrible, that those who looked on were paralysed for the moment beyond affording help; but Billy Wriggs' words did not indicate suffering or terror, only a good-hearted friendly remembrance of his messmate, for he shouted out as if by way of farewell,-- "Tommy, old mate, I leave yer my brass baccy-box." The words galvanised Smith into action. He had seized and dragged Panton away in time, but as he saw his companion sinking into the crack which grew slowly longer and wider, he stood with his eyes staring and jaw dropped till the words "baccy-box" reached his ears. Then he made a rush to where Wriggs' head and shoulders only remained above ground, stooped quickly, and seized him by his thin garment, and held on, checking further descent and gazing wildly at his messmate, whose rugged features upturned to the red glow of light appeared to be singularly calm and placid. "Steady, mate," he said mildly. "Don't tear my shirt." "Won't I!" cried Smith, savagely. "Where's that theer box?" "Breeches' pocket, mate." "That's you all over," snarled Smith, as his hands got a better grip, first one and then the other, and his voice sounded like an angry growl between his set teeth. "Promise--a chap--a box--and then--going to take it with yer. Yer would, would yer? But yer just won't." "Let me take my skin, then," cried Wriggs. "Don't tear it all off," as he winced beneath the savage grip which checked his descent. "Nay I weant, mate," growled Smith. "I wants it, too, and hold tight, Billy, the deck's giving way. Heave ho!" Smith threw himself backward as he made a tremendous heave, and none too soon, for a great patch of the earth at the side gave way where he stood. But he had thrown all a strong man's force into one mighty effort, and as Drew stood trembling and helpless, he saw the two men clasped in each other's arms, rolling over and over into safety, just as a horrible fume rose from the rift which now ran on in a zigzag split, like a flash of lightning in shape, and as rapid. Then followed a sharp report as of subterranean thunder and the earth closed again. "Would yer bite--would yer bite!" grumbled Wriggs, as he stared at the earth. "Well, of all the onsartain dangerous places as ever I was in," said Smith, in a low growl, "this here's about the worst." "Ay, 'tis mate," said Wriggs. "Sea's safest arter all. I say, though," he continued as he softly rubbed himself about the ribs, "might ha' took hold of a fellow a bit easier, Tommy. You've made me feel all loose." "Sarve yer right, chucking yerself down like that. Why, if it hadn't been for me, you'd ha' been nipped fast there. Now, then, where's that there 'bacco-box? Hand over." "Nay, I said I'd leave it to yer, mate. I was making o' my will. Going to use it a bit longer, mate, but I'll give yer a quid." "What an escape, my lads," panted Drew, who now came up and shook hands with them both warmly. "Well, it weer pretty close, sir," said Wriggs, as he went on gently rubbing his sides. "But I'm beginning to think as Tommy Smith had better ha' left me alone. His fingers is as hard as a brass statoo's. But there, mate, I forgives yer. How's the gents, sir?" Drew shook his head, and after the mate and Panton had been carried some little distance from where the earth had split open and re-closed, the party seated themselves in a despondent state to watch the golden cloud which hung high in air, like a huge ball of liquid fire, and lit up the place while they waited for morn. Panton and Mr Rimmer both seemed to be sleeping heavily, and one of the sailors remained similarly affected, but their state did not appear now to be so alarming after the past experience, and Drew contented himself with satisfying himself from time to time that they were breathing comfortably, while he waited and thought sadly about their young companion. "If I could only feel satisfied that we had done everything possible to save him," he said to himself, for his conscience reproached him for idling there when he might have perhaps schemed some way of dragging him out from the mist. Just about the time when his spirits were at the lowest ebb he became conscious of the fact that the two sailors, Smith and Wriggs, were engaged in an argument with one of the rescue party, and he listened to what was said. "Look-ye here," growled Smith, "what's the good o' you talking that way? You see how it was; yer couldn't hardly breathe, and what yer could breathe warn't fresh hair, but a rum sort o' stuff as comes out o' the earth and knocks yer over 'fore you knows where you are. I never felt nowt like it, did you, Billy?" "No; and never wants to smell it again. Yer didn't feel it, yer smelt it, lads, and then you was nowheres. Say, Tommy." "What is it?" "Wonder what it's like down below, inside like. You hauled me out 'fore I'd half a chance to find out." "Why didn't yer say yer wanted to see? Then I'd ha' let yer go." "Nay, you wouldn't, Tommy," said Wriggs, with a chuckle. "Be too warm, wouldn't it?" "But what I was saying, mates, was as I don't think we tried hard enough to find Mr Lane. We ought to have done something." "Ay; but how are you going to do it?" said Wriggs, shortly, just as the man's words had gone like a pang through Drew's breast, making him feel that even the men were judging him adversely. "That's the worst o' you clever ones: you says, says you, 'We ought to do some'at,' but you don't say what." "That's a true word, Billy Wriggs," cried Smith, clapping his messmate on the shoulder, "they don't say what. Why, 'fore you chaps come, Mr Panton and Mr Drew--" "And Tommy Smith," growled Wriggs. "Well, I did try a bit, mate, and so did you, till we couldn't do no more. I don't believe a hangel could ha' done more than Billy did." "Oh, I say, mate," grumbled Wriggs, modestly. "I says it again, 'could ha' done more than Billy did.' But it's like this here, mates, the onpossible's just a bit too hard for a man to do, and whether he likes it or whether he don't, he's got to put up with it, and that's what clever people calls flossify." "And quite rightly, my man," said Drew, coming close up. "Smith and Wriggs behaved like brave, true men, my lads." "Easy, sir, please. We only tried same as you did." "You think, then, that we tried everything that was possible to save my friend?" "Think, sir? Why, Billy and me's sure on it, eh, Billy?" "Sartain." "Hah!" ejaculated Drew, "you have done me good, my lads, for my heart felt very sore and my conscience reproached me cruelly for not doing more." "It's all right, sir," cried Smith, cheerily. "You wait till the morning comes, and then we shall see a way o' sarcumventing this gas, as you calls it, and I daresay we shall find Mr Lane somewhere all right on t'other side." "If I could only feel that, I could rest till morning," said Drew. "Then just you feel it, sir," said Smith. "It's what I feels strong." "So do I, sir, now," put in Wriggs. "If Tommy Smith mays so, it's all right." Drew tried to think that it was, but the pleasant, hopeful sensation would not come, and he sat now with the men, now beside the mate and his friend Panton, waiting for the morning, the first hints of its approach being in the gradual paling of the golden light from the cloud over the volcano, and the appearance of the softer, more natural glow, that came in the east, bringing with it a more diffused light, and the hope that rides in with the dazzling rays of a new day. _ |
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