Michael Penguyne Part 7

"Not the slightest hope through such a surf as this," was the answer.

"Who is on board?" asked Mr Tremayne.

"It seems to be a young lad, as far as we can make out," said a coast-guard man. "His best chance is to hold on till low water, when, as there will be a pretty broad piece of sand, if the wind goes down, he may happen to get in without being swamped."

"But if the wind does not go down, and the weather still looks threatening, what can he do?"

"His fate will be that of many another poor fellow," said the man. "He is a brave young chap, though, or he would not have brought up in the way he did. I have not once seen him waving his arms or seeming to be crying out for help, as most would be."

"Can he be young Michael Penguyne, of whom we have just heard!"

exclaimed Mrs Tremayne. "Oh, can nothing be done to save him?"

"Will none of you fine fellows launch a boat and go out and try and bring in the boy?" asked Mr Tremayne. "I will give twenty pounds to the crew of the boat which brings him in."

"I am sorry, sir, that I cannot allow my men to go out," said the officer of the coast-guard, who heard the offer made. "We should not have waited for a reward if it could be done, but the best boat we have would be swamped to a certainty, and the lives of all her crew sacrificed. I much regret being compelled to say this; there is not a man here who would not do his best to save the life of the lad if it were possible."

"Are none of the fishermen's boats better fitted for the purpose?" asked Mr Tremayne. "I will give twenty-five pounds to the boat which saves the lad. Surely if so small a boat as his can live, a large fis.h.i.+ng-boat would run but comparatively little risk."

The officer explained that the danger would be incurred in pa.s.sing through the breakers, and that once outside, although the sea was very heavy, a boat properly handled would keep afloat.

"I have," he added, "sent to a little harbour to the north of this, but the boats there are small, and I doubt whether any of the fishermen will venture so near the breakers as that boat has brought up. I will, however, send again with your generous offer, though some time must elapse before a boat can be got ready, even if a crew can be found willing to risk their lives in the service."

"I will go myself to urge them to undertake it if you can devise no other means of saving the lad," said Mr Tremayne.

"The distance is considerable, and it will be night before you can reach the place," answered the officer. "I would advise you, sir, not to make the attempt. They will trust to my promise, as I will send one of my own men."

"Tell them you will give them twenty-five pounds if they will start at once," exclaimed Mrs Tremayne, eagerly; "surely men will not stand calmly by and allow the poor boy to perish in their sight."

"I will do as you wish," answered the officer.

Just as they were speaking, however, there was a cry from those looking on.

"He has cut his cable--he has hoisted his sail--he is going to venture it," exclaimed several people simultaneously.

The boat's head was turned towards the sh.o.r.e. Onward she came. Now she rose to the summit of a huge wave, now plunged downwards. For an instant the sail flapped, becalmed by another sea which rolled up astern.

A cry escaped the spectators: "She will be swamped! she will be swamped!"

But no; again the sail filled and on she came. The young boy was seen seated in the stern of his boat grasping the tiller with one hand and the main-sheet with the other. Over she heeled to the blast--again she rose, and again sunk down, and now she was among the hissing, roaring, foaming breakers. The waters bubbled up, tumbling into her on either side; but still the boy held firm hold of his tiller. Again the sail flapped--there was a sudden lull.

"She is lost, she is lost!" was the cry. "The next sea must swamp her;"

but the wind came faster than the wave--the sail bulged out, and on she flew.

For another moment she seemed to hang in the midst of a breaker as it rushed backwards from the sh.o.r.e, but another lifted her, and, carried forward on its crest, she came like a thing of life escaping from her savage pursuers towards the beach.

A dozen stout hands, incited by the address of Mr Tremayne, rushed forward to grasp the boat, regardless now of their own safety, for the work was one of no little danger; ere they could seize the boat's gunwale she might be dashed against them, or be swept out by the receding wave as it went hissing backwards in a sheet of foam. But they were well accustomed to the duty they had undertaken.

Michael to the last kept his seat, steering his boat stem on to the beach. As he felt the keel touch the sand he sprang forward and was grasped by the st.u.r.dy arms of one of those who had gone to his rescue, and carried in triumph out of the reach of the foaming breaker, which came roaring up as if fierce at the escape of its prey.

With difficulty those who had gone down to seize the boat made their way after their companion, and she, before they could haul her up, was thrown on the beach and rolled over and over with her sides crushed in.

"Oh, the boat, the boat! what will poor father and those at home do?"

exclaimed Michael, as he saw what had happened. "I thought to have saved her."

"Never mind the boat," answered a stout lad, one of those who had gone down to his rescue, wringing him by the hand. "We are right glad to have you safe. I only got here just in time to see you standing for the sh.o.r.e. I did not think you would reach it. I have been hunting for you all along the coast, and made sure that you were lost."

"Thank you, Eban," answered Michael, for it was Eban Cowan who spoke to him. "But poor father will grieve when he hears the boat is lost after all."

"Thy father won't grieve for that or anything else, Michael," said Eban, thoughtlessly; "he is dead."

"Dead!" exclaimed poor Michael, grasping the arm of the man who had brought him on sh.o.r.e, and who was still standing by him, and overcome by the strain on his nerves, which he had hitherto so manfully endured, and the sad news so abruptly given him, he would have fallen to the ground had not the fisherman supported him.

Mr Tremayne and his wife and daughter now came up.

"Poor boy, it is not surprising that he should give way at last,"

observed Mrs Tremayne. "We will have him carried to our inn, where he can be properly attended to."

Mr Tremayne agreed to her proposal, and, begging two of the stout fishermen to carry the lad, he promised a reward to those who could secure the boat and her gear.

"That will be my charge," said the coast-guard officer. "But I am afraid that the boat herself is a complete wreck, and that very little of her gear will be saved."

Michael, on being placed in a comfortable bed in the inn, soon returned to consciousness, and was greatly surprised to find two kind-looking ladies watching by his side. The younger one called her father from an adjoining room.

"You have had a hard tussle for your life; you behaved courageously, my lad," observed Mr Tremayne, taking his hand.

"I am thankful that G.o.d has spared my life," answered Michael in a low voice, which showed how much his strength was prostrated. "But, O sir, Eban told me that father is dead, and the boat is all knocked to pieces, and what will Nelly and poor granny do? Next to G.o.d, they can only look to the boat and me for help."

"What! young as you are, do you expect to be able to support yourself and those you speak of?" asked Mrs Tremayne.

"Yes; father gave them into my charge, and if G.o.d had given me strength, and the boat had been spared, I would have done my best."

"We know Nelly and your granny, and more about you than you may suppose," said Mrs Tremayne, kindly; "we paid them a visit to-day, and heard of their loss. But set your mind at rest about your boat, we will endeavour to obtain another for you, and help you in any other way you may wish."

Michael expressed his grat.i.tude with an overflowing heart. A night's quiet rest completely restored his strength, and, being eager to a.s.sure Nelly and Dame Lanreath of his safety, after he had bade his new friends good-bye he set off on his return home.

Mrs Tremayne promised to have his boat looked after, and to pay him a visit in the course of a day or two to arrange about the purchase of another.

On reaching home Michael found that Eban Cowan had been before him, and given Nelly and her granny tidings of his safety. They had heard, however, only of the loss of his boat, and had been naturally anxious at the thoughts of what they should do without her. The news he brought that he was to have a new one greatly revived their spirits.

"G.o.d is indeed kind to us in sending us help in our time of need," said Dame Lanreath. "O my children! never forget His loving-kindness, but serve and obey Him as long as you live."

Michael's grief was renewed as he went in to see the friend who had acted the part of a father to him all his life; but happily deep grief does not endure long in young hearts, and he now looked forward to Mr Tremayne's promised visit.

"I hope the young lady and her mother will come with him. O Nelly! she looked like an angel as she watched by me, when I scarcely knew whether I was alive or being knocked over and over in the breakers," he observed. "For hours after I was safe on sh.o.r.e I had their sound in my ears in a way I never knew before."

Mr Tremayne came to the cottage just as Dame Lanreath, with Michael and Nelly, had returned from attending the funeral of Paul Trefusis. It was a calm and lovely day, and contrasted greatly with the weather which had before prevailed.

In the harbour, just below the cottage, lay a boat somewhat smaller than the "Wild Duck," but nearly new, with freshly-tanned sails, and well fitted in every respect. Mrs and Miss Tremayne were seated in it, with two men who had rowed it round from the Lizard.