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Menhardoc: A Story of Cornish Nets and Mines, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 25. A Cornish Gale... |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. A CORNISH GALE; AND DICK TEMPLE TAKES HIS FIRST LESSON IN WIND It can rain in Cornwall, and when it does rain it rains with all its might. The same remark applies to the wind, which blows with all its might sometimes from the west and south-west. A few days had elapsed since the conger-fishing trip, and it had been arranged with Uncle Abram, who had expressed himself as being highly honoured by a visit from Mr Temple that Josh and Will should be ready with the boat for a long row to three or four of the old mine-shafts and creeks of the bay, where Mr Temple intended making a few investigations, and taking specimens of the different ores. But when Dick rose, as he thought at daybreak, he found that it was half-past seven, that the rain was streaming down, and that the wind kept striking the side of the house, as it came from over the great Atlantic, with a noise like thunder. He opened the window, but was glad to shut it again, for the wind snatched it, as it were, from his hand, to send it with a bang against the wall of the house. So shutting it close once more, and giving one of the panes a rub with the towel, he put his nose against it and looked out at the bay. "Oh, how jolly miserable!" he exclaimed. "Here, Taff, hi! Wake up." Taff would not wake up, and a second summons had no effect. In fact the nickname Taff had a bad effect upon Arthur Temple, causing a sort of deafness that was only removed by calling him Arthur. "It rains and it blows, and the sea is one mass of foam. Oh, what waves!" So impressive were these latter that for some time Dick forgot to dress, but kept watching the huge, dark green banks of water come rolling in and then break upon the shore. "Here, what a stupid I am!" he said to himself at last; and hastily scrambling on his clothes, he went down-stairs and out on to the cliff, to be almost startled by the heavy thunder of the great billows that came tumbling in, every now and then one of them coming with a tremendous smack upon the pier, when the whole harbour was deluged, the foam and spray flying over the luggers, which were huddled together, as if in alarm, beneath the shelter of the sea wall. Dick forgot that it was raining heavily, and ran down to the great bed of boulders at the end of the village, where, as the huge waves came in, they drove up the massive stones, which varied in size from that of a man's head to that of a Cheshire cheese, sending them some distance up towards the cliff, and then, as the wave retired, _boomble_--_roomble_--_doomble, doomble_--_doom_, they rolled back again one over the other, as if mockingly defying the retiring wave to come and do that again. Here was the secret of how pebbles and shingle and boulders were made, grinding one another smooth as were driven one over the other for hundreds and hundreds of years till they were as smooth as the rock upon which they beat. This was exciting enough for a time, but, regardless of rain and wind, Dick ran along the cliff to a place he knew, a very shelf in the rock which went down perpendicularly to a deep little cove, in which he felt sure that the sea would be beating hard. "It's just a hundred feet," he said, "because Josh told me, and I shall be able to see how high a wave can come." He said this, but only to himself, for as he hurried along the cliff there were moments when he could hardly get his breath for the force of the wind which beat full in his face. Once or twice he hesitated, wondering whether it was safe to proceed in such a storm. He laughed at his fears, though, as he stood in shelter for a few moments, and then went on again, to, reach the spot he sought, and find to his great delight that the rock bulged out, so that without danger he could look right down upon the sea; while another discovery he made was, that though he seemed to be standing right facing the wind he was in comparative calm. It paid for the journey, for as he advanced to the edge he could see low down that the waves were churning up foam which the wind caught as it was finished and sent right up in a cloud of flakes and balls light as air in a regular whirl, to come straight up past him, higher and higher above his head, till the very summit of the cliff was reached, when away it went in a drift landward. Why was it quite calm where he stood, and yet the full force of the Atlantic gale coming full in his face? It was a puzzle to Dick Temple. The wind was blowing so hard that it was cutting the foamy tops from the waves, and sweeping all along like a storm of tremendous rain. It seemed to him that he should be blown flat against the rock, and held there spread-eagle fashion; but instead of this it was perfectly calm, and the thought came upon him how grand it would be to stand just where the wind was blowing its hardest, and to see what it felt like to be in the full force of an Atlantic gale. "I'll climb right up to the very top of the cliff," he said. "I wonder whether the wind ever does blow strong enough to knock anyone down." But there was too much to fascinate him below for him to drag himself away at once. From where he stood he could see all along below the cliffs where he had been rowed by Josh and Will, and that where, then and afterwards, when his father accompanied them searching for some good mineral vein, the sea had heaved gently, and the waves had curled over and broken sparkling on the rocks, all was now one chaos of wildly foaming and tossing waters. The huge green waves ran rolling in to break with a noise like thunder, and when some huge hill of water came in, rose, curled over, and broke, it was with a tremendous boom, and the spray rushed thirty, forty, and fifty feet up the rock before it poured back. "I wonder what would happen to a boat if it was down there?" said Dick aloud. "Just the same as would happen to a walnut-shell if you were to throw it down where five hundred hammers were beating about on a pile of stones such as you use to mend the roads." "Why, I didn't hear you come, Will," cried Dick eagerly. "I was going to your place to tell you that we could not go out to-day, of course, and I saw you come out, so I followed." "And so a boat would not get on very well down there, wouldn't it?" "Get on!" said Will smiling; "why, it would be smashed up." "And suppose a ship were to be close in there, Will?" "She would be beaten up into matchwood, all torn and ragged to pieces." "But is the sea so strong?" "Look at it," cried Will, pointing to the leaves, "It is awful sometimes." "Worse than this?" "Yes: much," replied Will. "But look here, suppose a great ship came driving round the head here and struck?" "What do you mean by struck?" "Driven on the rocks. Do you know what would happen then?" "Well, she would be wrecked, I suppose," said Dick. "Yes, the waves would come leaping and thundering over her the same as they do over that piece of rock, and sweeping her decks. Then every great wave that came in would lift her up, and then leave her to come down crash upon the rocks, shaking out her masts and loosening her timbers and planks, and keeping this on till she tumbled all to pieces and the sea was strewed with the bits which kept tossing in and out among the rocks." "Have you ever seen the sea do this?" said Dick eagerly. "Yes," replied Will solemnly, "often. It's very awful sometimes to live at the sea-side on a rocky coast." The two lads stood for a few minutes silently gazing down into the wild waste of tossing foam, and then Dick said slowly: "I think I should like to see a wreck. I shouldn't like for there to be a wreck; but if there was a wreck I should like to see it." "I don't think you would again," said Will sadly. "I used to think so when I was quite a little fellow; but when I did see one it all seemed so pitiful to know that there were people on board the ship asking you to come and save them." "Then why didn't you go and save them?" cried Dick excitedly. "You are all good sailors about here, and have boats. You ought to do something to save the poor things." "We do," said Will sadly. "I mean our men do when they can." "Haven't you got a life-boat?" "There is one at Corntown and another at Penillian Sands; but sometimes before a life-boat can be fetched a ship has gone to pieces." "And all the people drowned?" "Yes. Come below here," said Will, leading the way down the cliff. "Is--is it safe?" said Dick. "I will not take you where there's any danger," said Will. Dick hesitated for a few moments, and then followed his companion down a path cut in a rift of the rock where a tiny stream trickled down from far inland. The mouth of the rift was protected by a pile of rocks, against which the wind beat and the waves thundered, but the path was so sheltered that the lads were able to get nearly down to the shore. "There are lots of paths like this down the cliff all about the coast," said Will quietly. "They are useful for men to get down to their boats in bad weather." He pointed to one that was drawn right up on rollers twenty feet above the waves and snugly sheltered from the storm. "There," said Will the next minute, as he stood holding on behind a rock, with Dick by his side. "We're safe enough here; the wind goes by us, you see, and the waves don't bite here. Now, what do you think of that?" Dick drew a long breath two or three times over before he could speak, for the scene was awful in its grandeur, and, young as he was, he felt what mere pigmies are men in face of the giants of the elements when Nature is in anger and lets loose her storms upon our shores. Every minute, from amidst the boiling chaos of waves, one bigger than the rest came slowly from seaward with a strange gliding motion, to raise itself up like some crested serpent and curl over, and then, as it was riven in ten thousand streams and sheets of jagged foam, there was a dull roar as of thunder, the wind shrieked and yelled, and, serpent-like, the broken wave hissed, and seethed, and choked, and gurgled horribly amongst the rocks. "What do you think of that?" said Will again gravely as he placed his lips close to Dick's ear. "How awful the sea is!" panted Dick as he seemed more than ever to realise its force. "Yes," said Will quietly, and there was a sad smile on the boy's lip as he spoke. "But you said a little while ago that our men ought to help the shipwrecked men. Shall we get down that boat and have a row?" "Row!" cried Dick with a horrified look; "why, it couldn't be done." "Would you like to see your father and some more men get down that boat and put off to sea?" "It would be impossible," cried Dick. "She would be tossed over by the waves and everybody drowned." "Hah! Yes," said Will smiling. "You see now the danger. Many people say that fishermen are cowardly for not doing more, when the case is that they know the danger, and those who talk and write about it don't. It isn't everybody who has seen the sea-coast in a storm. Shall we go up?" "Yes," panted Dick; "it is too awful to stay here. If a wave were to curl round the corner we should be swept away." "Yes," said Will, "but the waves will not curl round the corner. They can't come here." He pointed to the rugged path, for it was hard work to speak and make each other hear; and Dick began nervously to climb back, looking down once or twice at the hungry waves, which seemed ready to leap up at him and tear him from the rocks. "I say," he cried, "I'm glad Taff isn't here." Will smiled, for he felt that Arthur would never have ventured down the cliff. "Now," said Dick, as they reached the shelf path once more, and he felt less nervous, "I want to go up right to the top of the cliff and feel the wind." "Feel the wind?" cried Will. "Yes; feel how strong it is. Which is the best way?" "I'll show you," said Will smiling; and leading the way he walked a little back towards the town and then turned into a rift similar to that by which they had descended to the shore. "This way," he shouted, for the wind caught them here with tremendous force, and great balls of foam were whirled up over the face of the cliff and then away on the wings of the wind inland. "What a difference!" cried Dick as soon as they had entered the rift: for there was a perfect lull here, and all seemed comparatively at peace. "Yes, it is sheltered here," replied Dick; "but wait a few minutes and you will feel the wind again." "Yes. I want to feel it just as it comes off the sea. I'm going to stand right at the edge. It won't blow me down, will it?" "No; not there," said Will smiling. "Here we are. Now come and try." As soon as they emerged from the shelter of the rift and stood upon the storm-swept cliff, Dick had to clap his hand to his head to keep on his hat, for the wind seized it and swept it to the extent of the lanyard by which it was fortunately held, and there it tugged and strained like a queerly-shaped kite. The wind now was terrific, coming in deafening gusts, and more than once making Dick stagger. In fact if he had set off to run inland it would have almost carried him off his legs. "Didn't--know--blow--so--hard," he panted, turning his back so that he could breathe more freely, when the wind immediately began to part the boy's hair behind in two or three different ways, but only to alter them directly as if not satisfied with the result. "Come along," shouted Will. "Let's get to the edge." Dick turned round, caught at Will's extended hand, and leaning forward, tramped with him step for step towards the edge of the cliff, which went sheer down a couple of hundred feet to the shore. They had to force their way sturdily along for about a hundred yards with the wind as it came right off the Atlantic shrieking by their ears, and deafening and confusing them. The short wiry grass was all quivering, and it was plain enough to understand why trees found it so hard to grow where they were exposed to the fury of the sea breezes that blew so many months in the year. Step--step--step by step, the wind seeming really to push them back. Now and then, when it came with its most furious gusts, the lads regularly leaned forward against it as if it were some strange elastic solid; and then, as they nearly reached the edge, it lulled all at once, and right at the verge all was calm. "Oh, what a pity!" cried Dick, as he stood there panting and regaining his breath; "only to think of it turning so still now that we are here." "Turning so still!" said Will, laughing; "why, it's blowing harder than ever. Look at the foam-balls." "Yes; it's blowing there," said Dick; "but it's quite calm here. Never mind; I'll wait. There'll be a regular guster directly." "No," said Will quietly; "you may stand here all day and you'll hardly feel the wind." "But why's that?" cried Dick. "Because we are right at the edge of a tall flat-faced cliff," said Will. "It's generally so." "But I don't understand it," cried Dick. "It's blowing very hard, and we are not in shelter. Why don't it blow here?" "Because we are right at the edge of the cliff." "Don't talk stuff and nonsense, Will," said Dick testily. "How can you be so absurd? Why, that's where the wind would blow hardest." "No, it isn't," replied Will. "Now look here," said Dick. "I know that we London chaps are all behind you country fellows over sea-side things--catching fish, and boating, and about winds and tides; but I do know better than you here. The edge of a cliff like this must be the place where the wind blows hardest." "But you feel for yourself that it doesn't," said Will laughing. "Not just now," cried Dick, "but it will directly." "No, it will not." "But look at the foam flying and the spray going like a storm of rain." "Yes," said Will, "but not at the edge of the cliff. Look at the grass and wild flowers; they grow longer and better here too. The wind off the sea never blows very hard here." "Oh, what stuff!" cried Dick; "you're as obstinate as old Taff. It will blow here directly." "Come along," said Will quietly; and he walked a short distance inland, taking his companion into the full force of the gale once more. "There!" cried Dick. "I told you so. It has come on to blow again. Let's get back to the edge." Will made no objection, but walked back quickly with Dick; but before they reached the cliff edge it was nearly calm once more. "Look at that, now," cried Dick pettishly. "Did you ever see such a stupid, obstinate old wind in your life? It's blowing everywhere but here." Will smiled so meaningly that Dick turned upon him. "Why, what do you mean?" he cried. "I'll try and show you," said Will. "Lie down here. It's quite dry." Dick threw himself on the short soft turf, and Will pulled out a pocket-book, took the pencil from its loop, and, spreading the book wide, began after a fashion to draw what learned people call a diagram, but which we may more simply speak of as a sketch or figure of what he wished to explain. It was very roughly done in straight lines, but sufficiently explanatory, especially as Will carefully followed the example of the sign-painter, who wrote underneath his artistic work, "This is a bear." Will began by drawing a horizontal line, and under it he wrote, "The sea." Then he turned the horizontal line into a right angle by adding to it a perpendicular line, by which he wrote: "The cliff." From the top of that perpendicular he drew another horizontal line, and above that he wrote, "Top of the cliff." "Now, then," he said, "these little arrows stand for the wind blowing right across the sea till they come to the face of the cliff;" and he drew some horizontal arrows. "Yes, I see," said Dick, helping with a finger to keep down the fluttering leaves. "Well; now the wind has got as far as the cliff. It can't go through it, can it?" "No," said Dick. "And it can't go down for the sea." "Of course not." "It can't go backwards, because the wind is forcing on the wind." "Yes," said Dick. "Hold still, stupid!" This last to the fluttering leaf. "Where is the wind to go, then?" asked Will. "Why, upwards of course," cried Dick. "To be sure," said Will. "Well, it strikes against the face of the cliff, and that seems to make it so angry like that it rushes straight up to get over the top." "Of course it does," said Dick; "any stupid could understand that." "Well," said Will, "the top's like a corner, isn't it?" "No!" cried Dick; "how can it be?" "Yes, it is," said Will sturdily; "just like a corner, only lying down instead of standing up." "Oh! very well; just as you like," cried Dick. "Now suppose," said Will, "you were running very fast along beside a row of houses like they are at Corntown." "Very well: what then?" "And suppose you wanted to run sharp round the edge of the corner, and I was hiding behind it, and you wanted to catch me." "Well, I should catch you," said Dick. "No, you would not. You couldn't turn short round, because you were going so fast; and you'd go some distance before you did, and you'd be right beyond me, and you'd make quite a big curve." "Should I? Well, suppose I should," said Dick, rubbing one ear. "Well," said Will, making some more arrows up the perpendicular line which represented, the face of the cliff, "that's how the wind does. It goes right up here, and gets some distance before it can stop, and then it curves over and flies right over the land, getting lower as it goes, till it touches the ground once more. There, that's it; and those two dots are you and me." He drew some more arrows, with Dick looking solemnly on, and the result was that Will's sketch of the wind's action against a cliff was something like the following arrangement of lines and arrows, which illustrate a curious phenomenon of nature, easily noticeable during a gale of wind at the edge of some perpendicular cliff. Dick felt disposed to dispute his friend's scientific reasoning; but Will showed him by throwing his handkerchief down from the edge of the cliff, when it was caught by the gale before it had gone down a dozen feet, and whisked up above their heads and then away over the land. A handful of grass was treated the same, and then Dick sent down his own handkerchief, which went down twice as far as Will's before the wind took it and blew it right into a crevice in the face of the cliff, where it stuck fast. "There's a go," cried Dick. "Oh! I say, how can we get it?" Will went to the edge of the cliff and looked over before shaking his head. "We can't get it now," he said. "I'll ask Josh to come with a rope when the wind's gone down, and he'll lower me over." "What--down there--with a rope?" said Dick, changing colour. "No, don't." "Why not?" said Will. "That's nothing to going down a mine-shaft." Dick shuddered. "Or going down the cliff after eggs as I do sometimes. We have gentlemen here now and then who collect eggs, and I've been down after them often in places where you can't climb." "But I shouldn't like you to go down for me." "Why not?" "You might fall," said Dick. "I shouldn't like to do that," said Will, smiling. Then in a thoughtful, gloomy way--"It wouldn't matter much. I've no one to care about me." "How can you say that?" cried Dick sharply. "Why, your uncle seemed to think a deal of you." "He's very kind to me," said Will sadly; "but I've always been an expense to him." "Then," cried Dick boldly, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself." "What--for being an expense to him?" said Will wistfully. "No; because you couldn't help that when you were a little fellow. Now you have grown, and are getting a big one, you ought to think of letting him be an expense to you, and you keep him. That's what I'm going to do as soon as ever I get old enough." "That's right," said Will, looking at his companion thoughtfully. "I say, is your father going to open a mine down here?" "I don't know quite for certain," said Dick; "but I think he's going to try and find something fresh, and work that." "What--some new metal?" "I don't know," said Dick, "and I don't think he quite knows yet. It all depends upon what he can find good enough." "I wish I could find something very valuable," said Will thoughtfully--"something that I could show him; and then he might give me work in it, so that I could be independent." "Well, let's try and find something good. I'll go with you," said Dick. "When?" "Not now. Oh! I say, I must get back; I am so precious hungry." It was quite time; but they had not far to go, though when Dick did enter the room it was to find his father and Arthur half through their meal. "Three quarters of an hour late, Dick," said his father. "I waited half an hour for you before I sat down. Where have you been?" "To look at the sea, father; and up on the cliff to see how the wind blew--how strong, I mean." "Sit down," said his father rather sternly. "I like punctuality, and would rather know when you are going out." "Yes, father," said Dick, "I'll try and remember. I'm very sorry." Mr Temple did not answer, but raised the newspaper he was reading, and this covered his face. Evidently Arthur thought it covered his ears as well, for he said rather importantly:-- "I was here punctually to the moment." "Arthur," said his father quietly, "you had better go on with your breakfast, and not talk so much." Arthur coloured, and the breakfast was eaten during the rest of the time in silence--a state of affairs of which Dick took advantage, for the sea air had a wonderful effect upon his food-assimilating powers, and his performance on this particular morning made his brother leave off to stare. "My, Dick!" he exclaimed at last as that gentleman made an attack upon a second fried sole, one of several brought in by the trawl-boat on the previous night, "I say, how you are eating!" "Yes," said Dick, grinning, "I'm a growing boy." _ |
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