Part 10 (2/2)

It was only a question of time. One by one, we pulled them up, some bruised and beaten, but still hopeful, others gasping for life, and others again dazed and faint.

We asked no questions; it was our work to save them first and question them afterwards; and so, one after another, man by man, they reached the summit of the rock.

At length we came to the last man. He was getting old and stiff. Even in the night I could see that he was bent and weak.

”Are you all here?” I asked, when he had reached the top.

The old man who had last come up looked around him, and then cried out:

”But where is Miss Ruth?”

”Miss Ruth?” gasped two or three; ”is she not here?”

”No woman has come up,” I replied.

”Then Miss Ruth is still on the vessel,” cried the old man. ”Wretch, wretch, that I am to leave her.”

”But she left the vessel,” replied another; ”why, Tom Poltewan said he was going to help her down.”

”She said she must get something from the cabin,” said another, ”and I didn't see her. I thought Mr. Inch would be sure to take care of her.”

Then followed a confusion of tongues, and in the storm I did not distinguish what was said. Evidently in the great anxiety to escape death a woman had been overlooked. But she must be rescued. The work which had been begun must be completed. Surely G.o.d who had helped us thus far would not desert us now?

What was to be done, however, had to be done quickly. The vessel had struck on a great rock, the billows were sweeping over her, and she might go to pieces any minute. The storm, although it had not yet reached its full height, was rapidly rising, the wind blew louder and louder, until we could scarcely hear each other speak. The men we had saved were battered and bruised and nearly unconscious. As I think of it now it is a wonder to me that they escaped death.

I tied the rope round my waist, and then asked Bill to lower me down by the slippery rock. At first he objected to this, but I insisted, and soon stood upon a broad flat ledge which was close to the wreck.

My object now was to get upon the vessel, but that was not easy of accomplishment; the great breakers were constantly sweeping over the vessel, and I began to despair of rendering a.s.sistance. I determined to try, however, and after many vain attempts, reached the deck. To look for anyone there was madness. No woman could stay in such a place. Either she had been swept away or she must be down below. In spite of storm and darkness I found my way there. The vessel was half full of water, and I felt that it would be worse than useless to attempt to find anyone in the darkness. Just then I heard a cry for help.

I cannot describe what followed. I have a dim recollection of grasping a cold hand, of struggling to the deck, of holding fast by the broken mast, and of a terrible wave that swept me quite away. After that all was oblivion.

When I woke to consciousness I was in my own bed, with my father and Deborah Teague sitting near me. At first everything seemed hazy, then things became more real, until all the events of the storm flashed before my mind.

”How did I come here?” I asked.

”G.o.d helped us to save you, Roger, my boy,” said my father.

”How?” I asked, faintly.

”I got impatient of your being away so long, and so one of the other lads succeeded in getting on the rock, while I, wanting to be near you, followed him. I got to the long p.r.o.ng in time to see you swept off the deck.”

”And then, father?”

”Then I went down to the broad ledge and found you both unconscious.

You had been stunned by the awful force with which you were hurled on the rock.”

”And she, father, the--the--one who was with me?”

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