Part 19 (1/2)

The Doctor sighed deeply. ”Don't alarm any other people,” he said; ”it will merely raise a crowd to no purpose. Here, George,” he continued to the servant, ”give me the lantern; I will go with this boy to the Stack; you follow us with ropes, and order a carriage from the King's Head.

Take care to bring anything with you that seems likely to be useful.”

Montagu and Dr Rowlands again started, and with difficulty made their way through the storm to the sh.o.r.e opposite the Stack. Here they raised the lantern and shouted; but the wind was now screaming with such violence that they were not sure that they heard any answering shout.

Their eyes, accustomed to the darkness, could just make out the huge black outline of the Stack rising from the yeast of boiling waves, and enveloped every moment in blinding sheets of spray. On the top of it Montagu half thought that he saw something, but he was not sure.

”Thank G.o.d, there is yet hope,” said the Doctor, with difficulty making his young companion catch his words amid the uproar of the elements; ”if they can but keep warm in their wet clothes, we may perhaps rescue them before morning.”

Again he shouted to cheer them with his strong voice, and Montagu joined his clear ringing tones to the shout. This time they fancied that in one of the pauses of the wind they heard a faint cheer returned. Never was sound more welcome, and as they paced up and down they shouted at intervals, and held up the lantern, to show the boys that friends and help were near.

Eric heard them. When Montagu left, he had carried Russell to the highest point of the rock, and there, with gentle hands and soothing words, made him as comfortable as he could. He wrapped him in every piece of dry clothing he could find, and supported his head, heedless of the blood which covered him. Very faintly Russell thanked him, and pressed his hand; but he moaned with pain continually, and at last fainted away.

Meanwhile the wind rose higher, and the tide gained on the rocks, and the sacred darkness came down. At first Eric could think of nothing but storm and sea. Cold, and cruel, and remorseless, the sea beat up, drenching them to the skin continually with its clammy spray; and the storm shrieked round them pitilessly, and flung about the wet hair on Eric's bare head, and forced him to plant himself firmly, lest the rage of the gusts should hurl them from their narrow resting-place. The darkness made everything more fearful, for his eyes could distinguish nothing but the gulfs of black water glistening here and there with hissing foam, and he shuddered as his ears caught the unearthly noises that came to him in the mingled scream of weltering tempest and plangent wave. It was fearful to be isolated on the black rent rock, and see the waves gaining on them, higher, higher, higher, every moment; and he was in ceaseless terror lest they should be swept away by the violence of the breakers. ”At least,” thought he, as he looked down and saw that the ledge on which they had been standing had long been covered with deep and agitated waves--”at least I have tried to save Edwin's life.”

And he bravely made up his mind to keep up heart and hope, and to weather the comfortless night as best he could.

And then his thoughts turned to Russell, who was still unconscious; and stooping down he folded his arms around the boy's breast. He felt _then_ how deeply he loved him, how much he owed him; and no mother could have nursed a child more tenderly than he did his fainting friend.

Russell's head rested on his breast, and the soft hair, tangled with welling blood, stained his clothes. Eric feared that he would die, his fainting-fit continued so long, and from the helpless way in which one of his legs trailed on the ground, he felt sure that he had received some dangerous hurt.

At last Russell stirred and groaned. ”Where am I?” he said, and half opened his eyes; he started up frightened, and fell back heavily. He saw only the darkness; felt only the fierce wind and salt mist; heard only the relentless fury of the blast. Memory had no time to wake, and he screamed and fainted once more.

Poor Eric knew not what to do but to shelter him to the best of his power; and when he showed any signs of consciousness again, he bent over him, and said, ”Don't you remember, Edwin? We're quite safe. I'm with you, and Monty's gone for help.”

”Oh! I daren't jump,” sobbed Russell; ”O mother, I shall be drowned.

Save me! save me! I'm so glad they're safe, mother; but my leg hurts so.” And he moaned again. He was delirious.

”How cold it is, and wet too! where's Eric? are we bathing?--run along, we shall be late. But stop, you're smoking.Dear Eric, don't smoke.

Poor fellow, I'm afraid he's getting spoilt, and learning bad ways. Oh save him.” And as he wandered on, he repeated a prayer for Eric, which evidently had been often on his lips.

Eric was touched to the heart's core, and in one rapid lightning-like glance, his memory revealed to him the faultful past, in all its sorrowfulness. And _he_ too prayed wildly for help both for soul and body. Alone on the crag, with the sea tumbling and plas.h.i.+ng round them, growing and gaining so much on their place of refuge, that his terror began to summon up the image of certain death; alone, wet, hungry, and exhausted, with the wounded and delirious boy, whose life depended on his courage, he prayed as he had never prayed before, and seemed to grow calmer by his prayer, and to feel G.o.d nearer him than ever he had done in the green cricket-field, or the safe dormitories of Roslyn School.

A shout startled him. Lights on the water heaved up and down, now disappearing, and now lifted high, and at intervals there came the sound of voices and the plash of irregular oars. Thank G.o.d! help was near; they were coming in a boat to save them.

But the lights grew more distant; he saw them disappearing towards the harbour. Yes; it was of no use; no boat could live in the surf at the foot of the Stack cliffs, and the sailors had given it up in despair.

His heart sank again, all the more for its glimpse of hope, and his strength began to give way. Russell's delirium continued, and he grew too frightened even to pray.

A light from the land. The sound of shouts--yes, he could be sure of it; it was Dr Rowlands's voice and Montagu's. He got convinced of this, and summoned all his strength to shout in return. The light kept moving up and down on the sh.o.r.e, not a hundred yards off. His fear vanished; they were no longer alone. The first moment that the tide suffered any one to reach them they would be rescued. His mind grew calm again, and he determined to hold up for Russell's sake until help should come; and every now and then, to make it feel less lonely, he answered the shouts which came from the friendly voices in the fitful pauses of the storm.

But Dr Rowlands and Montagu paced up and down, and the master soothed the boy's fears, and talked to him so kindly, so gently, that Montagu began to wonder if this really could be the awful head-master, whose warm strong hand he was grasping, and who was comforting him as a father might. What a depth of genuine human kindness that stern exterior concealed! And every now and then, when the storm blew loudest, the Doctor would stand still for a moment, and offer up a short intense prayer or e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, that help and safety might come to his beloved charge in their exposure and peril.

Six or seven hours pa.s.sed away; at last the wind began to sink, and the sea to be less violent. The tide was on the turn. The carriage drove up with more men and lights, and the thoughtful servant brought with him the school surgeon, Dr Underhay. Long and anxiously did they watch the ebbing tide, and when it had gone out sufficiently to allow of two stout planks being fastened securely to the rocks and laid across the channel, an active sailor ventured over with a light, and in a few moments stood by Eric's side. Eric saw him coming, but was too weak and numb to move; and when the sailor lifted up the unconscious Russell from his knees, Eric was too much exhausted even to speak. The man returned for him, and lifting him on his back, crossed the plank once more in safety.

Then he carried Russell first and Eric afterwards to the carriage, where Dr Underhay had taken care to have everything likely to revive and sustain them. They were driven rapidly to the school, and the Doctor raised to G.o.d tearful eyes of grat.i.tude as the boys were taken to the rooms prepared for them. Mrs Rowlands was anxiously awaiting their arrival, and the noise of wheels was the signal for twenty heads to be put through the dormitory windows, with many an anxious inquiry, ”Are they safe?”

”Yes, thank G.o.d!” called Dr Rowlands; ”so now, boys, shut the windows, and get to sleep.”

Russell was carefully undressed, and put to bed in the Doctor's own house, and the wound in his head was dressed. Eric and Montagu had beds provided them in another room by themselves, away from the dormitories; the room was bright and cheerful with a blazing fire, and looked like home; and when the two boys had drunk some warm wine, and cried for weariness and joy, they sank to sleep after their dangers and fatigues, and slept the deep, calm, dreamless sleep of tired children.

So ended the perilous adventure of that eventful night of the Easter holidays.

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER FOURTEEN.