Part 6 (2/2)
”Course you have, my lad. But let you go down? Nay, that I won't.
Poor young Gwyn Pendarve's drownded, same as lots of poor fellows as went out healthy and strong in their fis.h.i.+ng-boats have been drownded, and never come back no more. It's very horrid, but it's very true. He aren't the first by a long chalk, and he won't be the last by a many.
It's done, and it can't be undone. But it's a sad job.”
”Let me go down, Sam,” pleaded Joe, humbly now.
”Nay, I'm too much of a mizzable coward, my lad. I don't want to leave you and lose you.”
”But you wouldn't,” cried the boy. ”I should tie the knot too tight.”
”I don't know as yer could tie a better knot than I could, Master Joe Jollivet. And even if yer could, yer wouldn't be able to make my hands feel strong enough to hold yer.”
”I'm not afraid of that; and he must be brought out.”
”I don't know, my lad, I don't know. If he is to be, it'll want a lot o' men with long ropes, and lanterns to courage 'em up; but it strikes me that when they know what's happened, yer won't find a man in Ydoll Cove as will risk going down. They all know about the horrors in the mine, and they won't venter. I didn't believe it, but I do now. There, the rope's coiled up, and I may as well go.”
”To get help? Yes, go at once,” cried Joe, excitedly; ”I'll stay.”
”Nay, yer won't, my lad. I'm not going to leave yer. I don't want to know afterward as yer chucked yerself down that hole, despairing like.
You're going away with me.”
”I'm going to stay till help comes to get poor Gwyn out.”
Hardock shook his head.
”Go and tell them what's happened.”
”I dursent,” said the man, with a s.h.i.+ver.
”You go at once.”
”What! and tell the Colonel his boy's dead? That I won't, my lad. He'd be ready to kill me.”
”Go to my father, and tell him. He'll break the news to Colonel Pendarve; and you go on then to the village, to collect men and ropes.”
”They wouldn't come.”
”Oh, have you no feeling in you, at such a time?” cried Joe. ”You are only thinking about yourself. You must--you shall go on. What's that?”
The boy started and stood staring wildly at his companion, for a faintly-heard cry reached their ears, and Hardock's face grew mottled, sallow, white, red and brown.
”Sea-bird,” he said at last hoa.r.s.ely, after they had waited for a few moments, listening for a repet.i.tion of the cry.
”I never heard a sea-bird call like that,” said Joe, in a husky whisper.
”It wasn't a gull, nor a s.h.a.g, nor a curlew.”
”Nay, it warn't none o' they,” said Hardock, in a whisper. ”I know all the sea-fowl cries. I thought it was one o' they big black-backed gulls, but it warn't that.”
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