Part 41 (1/2)
The unfortunate woman gave a fearful scream, and, flying like a tiger on Liston, commanded him ”to go straight out to sea and save her son.”
Jean Carnie seized her arm. ”Div ye see yon boat?” cried she; ”and div ye mind Christie, the la.s.s wha's hairt ye hae broken? aweel, woman--_it's just a race between deeth and Cirsty Johnstone for your son._”
The poor old woman swooned dead away; they carried her into Christie Johnstone's house and laid her down, then hurried back--the greater terror absorbed the less.
Lady Barbara Sinclair was there from Leith; and, seeing Lord Ipsden standing in the boat with a fisherman, she asked him to tell her what it was; neither he nor any one answered her.
”Why doesn't she come about, Liston?” cried Lord Ipsden, stamping with anxiety and impatience.
”She'll no be lang,” said Sandy; ”but they'll mak a mess o' 't wi' ne'er a man i' the boat.”
”Ye're sure o' thaat?” put in a woman.
”Ay, about she comes,” said Liston, as the sail came down on the first tack. He was mistaken; they dipped the lug as cleverly as any man in the town could.
”Hech! look at her hauling on the rope like a mon,” cried a woman. The sail flew up on the other tack.
”She's an awfu' la.s.sie,”. whined another.
”He's awa,” groaned Liston, ”he's doon!”
”No! he's up again,” cried Lord Ipsden; ”but I fear he can't live till the boat comes to him.”
The fisherman and the viscount held on by each other.
”He does na see her, or maybe he'd tak hairt.”
”I'd give ten thousand pounds if only he could see her. My G.o.d, the man will be drowned under our eyes. If he but saw her!!!”
The words had hardly left Lord Ipsden's lips, when the sound of a woman's voice came like an AEolian note across the water.
”Hurraih!” roared Liston, and every creature joined the cheer.
”She'll no let him dee. Ah! she's in the bows, hailing him an' waving the lad's bonnet ower her head to gie him coorage. Gude bless ye, la.s.s; Gude bless ye!”
Christie knew it was no use hailing him against the wind, but the moment she got the wind she darted into the bows, and pitched in its highest key her full and brilliant voice; after a moment of suspense she received proof that she must be heard by him, for on the pier now hung men and women, cl.u.s.tered like bees, breathless with anxiety, and the moment after she hailed the drowning man, she saw and heard a wild yell of applause burst from the pier, and the pier was more distant than the man. She s.n.a.t.c.hed Flucker's cap, planted her foot on the gunwale, held on by a rope, hailed the poor fellow again, and waved the cap round and round her head, to give him courage; and in a moment, at the sight of this, thousands of voices thundered back their cheers to her across the water. Blow, wind--spring, boat--and you, Christie, still ring life toward those despairing ears and wave hope to those sinking eyes; cheer the boat on, you thousands that look upon this action; hurrah! from the pier; hurrah! from the town; hurrah! from the sh.o.r.e; hurrah! now, from the very s.h.i.+ps in the roads, whose crews are swarming on the yards to look; five minutes ago they laughed at you; three thousand eyes and hearts hang upon you now; ay, these are the moments we live for!
And now dead silence. The boat is within fifty yards, they are all three consulting together round the mast; an error now is death; his forehead only seems above water.
”If they miss him on that tack?” said Lord Ipsden, significantly, to Liston.
”He'll never see London Brigg again,” was the whispered reply.
They carried on till all on sh.o.r.e thought they would run over him, or past him; but no, at ten yards distant they were all at the sail, and had it down like lightning; and then Flucker sprang to the bows, the other boy to the helm.
Unfortunately, there were but two Johnstones in the boat; and this boy, in his hurry, actually put the helm to port, instead of to starboard.
Christie, who stood amids.h.i.+ps, saw the error; she sprang aft, flung the boy from the helm and jammed it hard-a-starboard with her foot. The boat answered the helm, but too late for Flucker; the man was four yards from him as the boat drifted by.
”He's a deed mon!” cried Liston, on sh.o.r.e.