Flint Part 14

"A wreck off the Point! I'm going down to the sh.o.r.e!"

"Hold on! Wait for me, can't you?" called Brady, still half asleep.

"No; there's no time to lose. I may be of use. Come on as fast as you can!"

As Flint rushed downstairs, he met Marsden coming out of his room, lantern in hand. The old man's face was ashen gray, and his fingers fumbled at the b.u.t.tons of his coat.

"Did you hear it?" he said in a trembling, shaken voice. "It's the gun of a s.h.i.+p in distress. Many's the time I've laid awake a-listenin' for it when the wind was wild and the sea las.h.i.+n' up over the rocks; and now it's come on a night as ca'm as a prayer-meetin'. I told you no good would come of our talk this evenin'."

"Is there any life-saving station near?" Flint asked, as they stumbled along the road in the dark.

"No, not near as you might say. Ten miles away is as bad as a hundred."

Once out of doors, they started on a run down the road which led to the sh.o.r.e. The booming of the gun grew louder in their ears; and dimly through the mist they caught sight of a vessel lying keeled over on her side well in sh.o.r.e. Flint was conscious of a not wholly unpleasing excitement as he watched her. As yet his mind had found no room for thoughts of individual suffering. It was a wreck, and he had always wished to see a wreck.

The thoughts pa.s.sing through his mind did not delay his footsteps, and he made such good speed that, half way to the sh.o.r.e, he had left Marsden far behind, and struggled on alone through the last few rods of heavy sand.

When he reached the beach, several people were gathered there already: Ben Bradford and Dr. Cricket, with that dishevelled air which always marks a midnight alarm; Michael and Leonard Davitt, who slept in their fisherman's hut by the pond, in order to get an early morning start, and were therefore first at the scene of excitement.

Michael felt all the importance of his position as first witness, and with unusual loquacity was giving an account of the catastrophe to the group around.

"I can't nohow account for it," he said; "that captain must be an escaped idjit to go on a lee-sh.o.r.e a night like this."

"Had the fog lifted when she struck?" queried Marsden.

"Well, it was jest a-waverin', breakin' up like, and then shuttin'

down agin. The idjit must er thought he was off the Bug Light, where the water's deep right up close in; but why should he a-thought so?--that's the question."

"Well, it is a question that can wait, I should think," said Brady, who had come up panting from his run. "The most important question is, what are you going to do about it? There's not much danger, I suppose, as long as the night is as calm as this; though there's such a ground swell on it looks as if there must have been a big storm at sea. See how she pounds on the reef out there! She is likely to go to pieces before many hours, I should say, and if a wind springs up, as it's pretty sure to do with morning, it would be an ugly lookout."

"Is there a life-boat anywhere?" asked Flint.

"Yes," said Leonard, somewhat scornfully, "in the pond." (He p.r.o.nounced it p.a.w.nd.)

"They must have boats on the s.h.i.+p," said Marsden; "seems to me I see 'em launchin' one now." At this the men on sh.o.r.e huddled closer together, as though four could see farther than one.

Yes, there was no doubt of it. The misty dawn showed forms standing on the slanting deck of the s.h.i.+p, and a boat hoisted, held out, and then dropped into the waves, which were already rising with the rising wind.

"They'd best make haste," muttered Michael, uneasily; "if the sea gets up, they'll go down."

It seemed an age to the little waiting group before the boat put off from the s.h.i.+p. The wind had begun to blow in cold and strong. Flint b.u.t.toned his coat tight to his chin, and still he s.h.i.+vered. On the little boat came, now dipping almost out of sight in the hollow of the big green waves, now rising like a cork upon their crest.

"Hurrah!" cried Brady, "they're almost in."

"Hm!" said Michael, "not yet, by a long sight! The danger comes when they git into the breakers."

Flint was enough of a sailor to know that the fisherman spoke truth. A little later, he saw the white, combing foam break over the boat. He drew his breath quicker, and caught his under-lip between his teeth.

"There's four men in her," said Marsden, making a telescope of his closed hands.

"Five," said Leonard,--"five, and one of 'em is a woman!"

Flint unb.u.t.toned his coat and threw it off.

"What are you about?" asked Brady. "You'll get your death of cold."

Flint made no answer, but, stooping, unfastened his boots, and kicked them off. Rapidly as he undressed, he was too slow; for, as the boat reached the tenth breaker, a great wave struck her a little on the side, and over she went, spilling out her contents as heedlessly as though they had been iron or lead in place of flesh and blood. In an instant, Flint was in the surf, and striking out for the spot where he had seen a woman's shawl.

"Curse it!" cried Leonard, "why can't I swim, and me a sailor!"

"I'd orter a-learned yer, Leon, and thet's a fact. Look at him! He's got her. He's a pullin' of her in. Make a line, men! Make a line!

Quick as thunder, and the last man grab 'em when they come within reach!"

In answer to Michael's words, the men hastily formed in line, and moved out till Brady stood chest-deep in water. It was a wise precaution, for Flint, though a good swimmer, found his task too hard for him. He felt like a man in a nightmare with a weight of lead upon his chest; and arms that must move, and could not move, and yet must again.

Dimly, a sense of possible escape for himself came over him. Why should two drown in place of one? He had but to let go this weight and strike out. Why not?

Why not indeed? This man held to no altruistic creed. His doctrines, had he expounded them quite coolly, would have claimed that self-preservation was the first law of Nature, and that Nature was the best guide. But now, with no time for reason, by the flashlight of instinct, intuition, inheritance,--call it what you will,--he found himself absolutely physically unable to let his load slip. With this stranger he would live or die, most likely die!

With the last thought, he felt a numbness creep over him. The limbs refused to obey the will. The will itself was paralyzed. Blank darkness fell around; the end had come.

He awoke to consciousness with a painful gasp, to find himself stretched out on the sand, and to hear Dr. Cricket's voice sounding far away, saying: "He'll be all right soon. Keep on working his arms, Ben! Here comes Marsden with the brandy and warm blankets." Then followed a vague sensation of swallowing fire, and a blissful warmth creeping along his veins as though Nature had taken him to her heart once more.

Languidly, he unclosed his eyes. What did it all mean: the waves roaring close at hand; the driftwood fire burning hard by; the circle of anxious faces? Through his dim senses ran the lines long familiar, never till now fully realized:

"The tall masts flickered as they lay afloat The crowds, the temples wavered, and the sh.o.r.e."

What made everything wobble about like that? Was he dying? What had brought him here, anyhow? Then, with a rush, it all came back. Raising himself on one elbow, he looked about inquiringly. "Where is she?" he asked, and fell back exhausted by the effort of speech.

"Here and safe," answered a woman's voice which he recognized as that of Winifred Anstice. "The captain and crew are saved too."

"Could they all swim?" Flint questioned feebly.

"Hold your tongue!" cried Dr. Cricket, with more good sense than good manners. "Your business now is to save your strength. Leave questions for later in the day. If that coffee is done, Ben, pa.s.s it round. We will all have a pull at it."

The commonplace of the daily routine is a blessed relief after the overstrained excitement of a great catastrophe. We eat and drink, and life seems real once more. Even Dr. Cricket was drawn for a moment from his patient's side to the circle gathered about Ben Bradford, who stood with the steaming coffee-pot in one hand, and a tin dipper in the other. Nectar and ambrosia, served from jewelled plate, could not have offered more temptation to the appet.i.te of the weary group.

Flint, lying a little apart, was conscious that Leonard Davitt was standing beside him, staring down into his face. As the young fisherman turned away, Flint heard him say, below his breath: "d.a.m.n him!"

CHAPTER IX

NORA COSTELLO

"We pa.s.s through life separated from many people as by a wall of gla.s.s.

We see them, we are conscious of their presence; but we never touch."