The Wharf By The Docks Part 35

"Great Heaven! It's Dudley!"

CHAPTER XXI.

A DUBIOUS REFUGE.

The night was clammy and cold. The fog was growing thicker, blacker. And the water of the Thames, as Max plunged his hand into it, struggling to raise the body of his friend, was ice-cold to the touch.

Carrie had seized her oar again, and was bringing the boat's head rapidly round, right under the stern of a barge which was moored close to Plumtree Wharf.

"Hold him; don't let him go!" cried she imperiously. "But don't try to drag him into the boat until I get her alongside. You can't do it without help. And if you could you'd pull the boat over."

The caution was necessary. Max had lost his head, and was making frantic efforts to raise the body of his friend over the boat's side.

"But he may be alive still! And if there's a chance--oh, if there's the least chance--"

"There'll be none if you don't do as I tell you!" cried Carrie, tartly.

By this time a lad on board the barge was looking over the side at them, not seeing much, however, in the gloom. Carrie whistled twice.

"h.e.l.lo!" replied he, evidently recognizing a signal he was used to.

"Is that Bob?"

"Yes."

"Lower a rope, and hold on like a man, Bob. We've got a man here drowned or half-drowned; and we want to get him on the wharf in a twinkling."

"Right you are."

The next moment the lad had lowered a rope over the side of the barge, and Carrie directed Max to pa.s.s it round the body of his friend. Then, she giving the orders as before, Bob from the barge above and Max from the boat below raised the body out of the water. Carrie had brought the little boat close to the barge, and held it in place with the boat-hook until the difficult task was safely accomplished, and the body of Dudley Horne laid upon the deck of the barge.

"Now," said she to Max, "get up and help Bob to carry him ash.o.r.e."

Max, who was speechless with grief and as helpless as a child in these new and strange circ.u.mstances, obeyed her docilely, and climbed to the deck of the barge.

"Now, Bob," went on Carrie, as she seized the second oar and prepared to row away, "carry him into the kitchen--you know your way--as fast as you can. And lay him down before the fire, if there is a fire; if not, make one. Sharp's the word, mind!"

"All right, missus."

Max looked down. Already she had disappeared in the gloom, and only the m.u.f.fled sound of the oars as they dripped on the water told him that she had not yet gone far away.

Suddenly he felt a rough pull at his arm.

"Come on, mister!" cried Bob, briskly. "She said, 'Sharp is the word.'

And when she says a thing she means it, you bet your life."

Max pulled himself together and turned quickly, ashamed of his own lack of vigor in the face of Carrie's intelligence and energy. Bob and he raised the body of Dudley and carried it across the plank to the wharf, where Bob, who knew his way about there, led the way to the door which Max remembered so well.

It was open, and they pa.s.sed through the outhouse, meeting no one, to the kitchen, which was also deserted. There they laid Dudley on the hearth, as Carrie had directed, and Bob proceeded to rake up the fire, which had died down to a few embers.

Meanwhile Max had taken off some of Dudley's clothes, and began to apply friction with his hands to the inanimate body. He had scarcely begun, when Carrie came in with an armful of dry towels and a couple of pillows.

"He is dead, quite dead!" cried Max, hoa.r.s.ely.

Carrie never even looked at him. Placing herself at once on her knees behind Dudley's head, she curtly directed Max to raise the upper part of his body, and slipped the two pillows, one on the top of the other, under the shoulders of the unconscious man.

"Now," said she, "go on with your rubbing--rub with all your might; and you, Bob, bring in a couple of big stone-bottles you'll find in the wash-house, fill them with hot water from the boiler, wrap them up in something, and put one to his feet and the other to the side that's away from the fire."

While she spoke she was working hard in the endeavor to restore respiration, alternately drawing Dudley's arms up above his head and laying them against his sides, with firm and steady movements.

For a long time all their efforts seemed to be useless. Max, indeed, had little or no hope from the first. He still worked on, however, perseveringly, but with despair in his heart, until he heard a sharp sound, like a deep sigh, from Carrie's lips.

She had detected a movement, the slightest in the world, but still a movement, in the senseless body. With straining eyes she now watched, that her own movements might coincide with the natural ones which Dudley had begun to make, and that real breathing might gradually take the place of the artificial.

"Let me do it. Let me help you," cried Max, who saw the strained look of utter fatigue which Carrie wore in spite of her excitement.

"No, no; I dare not. I must go on!" cried the girl, without lifting her eyes.

And presently another cry escaped her lips, a cry of joy.

"He is alive!"

"Thank G.o.d!"

The tears sprang to the eyes of Max. It was more than he had hoped.

"A doctor! Shall I fetch a doctor?" said he.

Carrie shook her head.

"A doctor could do no more than we've done," said she. "He'll be all right now--well enough to be got away, at all events. And the wound on his head isn't much, I think."

"Wound on his head!"

"Yes. It saved his life, most likely. Prevented his getting so much water into his lungs. Stunned him, you see."

Something like a sigh from the patient stopped her and directed the attention of them all to him. Bob, who had been standing in the background, almost as much excited as the others, came a few steps nearer. There was a moment of intense, eager expectancy, and then Dudley half opened his eyes.

Max uttered a deep sob and glanced at Carrie. She was deadly pale, and the tears were standing in her eyes.

"You've saved him!" said Max, hoa.r.s.ely.

The sound of his voice seemed to rouse Dudley, who looked at him with a vacant stare, and then let his eyelids drop again.