CHAPTER XI — BREAKERS AHEAD!
“Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of
barren ground.... The wills above be done! but I would
fain die a dry death.”
“I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath
no drowning mark upon him.”—Tempest.
THE wind, which we had observed was rising when we landed, had increased during our stay at the inn, and was now blowing almost a gale from the south-west; whilst the sea, which we had left smooth as a lake, was rolling in and breaking on the beach in somewhat formidable waves.
“I tell you what,” said Coleman, as soon as he had observed the state of affairs, “I won't attempt to steer in such a sea as that; it requires great skill and judgment, besides a stronger hand than mine, to keep the boat's head right; if I were to let her turn her broadside to one of those waves, it would be a case of 'Found drowned' with some of us, before long.”
“What's to be done, then?” inquired Oaklands. “I am sure I can't do it: it's a thing I'm quite ignorant of; all my boating having been on the river.”
“Let's hire one of those amphibious beggars out there to steer for us,” proposed Lawless, pointing to a group of fishermen who were lounging round an old boat, not far from where we stood; “they're up to all the right dodges, you may depend. Here, my men! which of you will earn half a guinea by steering our boat for us to Helmstone?”
“I wouldn't, master, for ten times the money,” replied an old weather-beaten boatman, in a tarpaulin hat; “and if you'll take an old man's advice, gentlemen, you'll none of you venture out in that cockle-shell this afternoon; the wind's getting up every minute, and we shall have a rough night of it.”
“Nonsense,” replied Lawless; “I've often been out in worse weather than this. Are you, all of you, frightened by that old woman's croaking?” continued he, turning to the group of men.
“He's no old woman,” replied a sturdy fellow, in a rough pea-jacket; “he's been a better sailor than ever you'll be, and he's right now too,” he added. “It's as much as a man's life is worth to go to sea in that bit of a thing, with the waves running in as they do now—and with such a set of landlubbers as them for a crew,” he muttered, turning away.
“Suppose we try and get something to take us home by land,” suggested Oaklands; “and leave the boat for some of these good fellows to bring home, as soon as the weather will allow.”
“You'll have to walk, sir,” replied one of them, civilly; “I don't believe there's a cart or horse in the place; they all went inland this morning with fish, and won't return till to-morrow.”
“There, you hear that,” said Lawless, who had just drunk enough to render him captious and obstinate. “I'm not going to walk to please anybody's fancy; I see how it is,—I did not bid high enough. A couple of guineas for any one who will come with us,” added he.
“A couple of guineas is not to be got every day,” observed a sullen, downcast-looking man, who had not yet spoken; “and it is not much odds to me whether I sink or swim now; those custom-house sharks,” added he, with an oath, “look so close after one, that one can't do a stroke of work that will pay a fellow nowadays. Money down, and I'm your man, sir,” he added, turning to Lawless.
“That's the ticket,” said Lawless, handing him the money. “I'm glad to see one of you, at least, has got a little pluck about him. Come along.”
I could see that Oaklands did not at all approve of the plan, evidently considering we were running a foolish risk; but, as nothing short of a direct quarrel with Lawless could have prevented it, his habitual indolence and easy temper prevailed, and he remained silent. I felt much inclined to object, in which case I had little doubt the majority of the party would have supported me; but a boyish dread, lest my refusal should be attributed to cowardice, prevented my doing so. With the assistance of the by-standers we contrived to launch our little bark without further misadventure than a rather heavier sprinkling of salt water than was agreeable. Rowing in such a sea, however, proved much harder work than I, for one, had any idea of; we made scarcely any way against the waves, and I soon felt sure that it would be utterly impossible for us to reach Helmstone by any exertions we were capable of making. The weather too was becoming worse every minute: it rained heavily, and it was with the greatest difficulty we were able to prevent the crests of some of the larger waves from dashing into our boat; in fact, as it was, she was already half full of water, which poured in faster than Coleman (who was the only person not otherwise engaged) could bale it out.
“Upon my word, Lawless, it's madness to attempt to go on,” exclaimed Oaklands; “we are throwing away our lives for nothing.”
“It certainly looks rather queerish,” replied Lawless. “What do you say about it, my man?” he asked of the person whom he had engaged to steer us.
“I say,” replied the fellow in a surly tone, “that our only chance is to make for the beach at once, and we shall have better luck than we deserve, if we reach it alive.”
As he spoke a larger wave than usual broke against the bow of the boat, flinging in such a body of water that we felt her stagger under it, and I believed, for a moment, that we were about to sink. This decided the question; the boat's head was put about with some difficulty, and we were soon straining every nerve to reach the shore. As we neared the beach we perceived that even during the short time which had elapsed since we quitted it, the sea had become considerably rougher, and the line of surf now presented anything but an encouraging appearance. As we approached the breakers the steersman desired us to back with our oars till he saw a favourable opportunity; and the moment he gave us the signal to pull in as hard as we were able. After a short pause the signal was given, and we attempted to pull in as he had directed; but, in doing this, we did not act exactly in concert—Lawless taking his stroke too soon, while Mullins did not make his soon enough; consequently, we missed the precise moment, the boat turned broadside to the beach, a wave poured over us, and in another instant we were struggling in the breakers. For my own part, I succeeded in gaining my legs, only to be thrown off them again by the next wave, which hurried me along with it, and flung me on the shingle, when one of the group of fishermen who had witnessed the catastrophe ran in, and seizing me by the arm, in time to prevent my being washed back again by the under-tow, dragged me out of the reach of the waves.
On recovering my feet my first impulse was to look round for my companions. I at once perceived Lawless, Mullins, and Oaklands, who were apparently uninjured, though the latter held his hand pressed against his forehead, as if in pain; but Coleman was nowhere to be seen. “Where is Coleman?” exclaimed I.
“There is some one clinging to the boat still,” observed a by-stander.
I looked anxiously in the direction indicated, and perceived the boat floating bottom upwards, just beyond the line of breakers; while, clinging to the keel, was a figure which I instantly recognised to be that of Coleman. “Oh, save him, save him; he will be drowned!” cried I, in an agony of fear.
“Ten guineas for any one who will get him out!” shouted Lawless; but nobody seemed inclined to stir.
“Give me a rope,” cried I, seizing the end of a coil which one of the boatmen had over his shoulder, and tying it round my waist.
“What are you going to do?” asked Lawless.
While he spoke a large wave separated Coleman from the boat, and, as it poured its huge volume upon the beach, bore him along with it. With the swiftness of thought I sprang forward, and succeeded in throwing my arms round him, ere the next advancing wave dashed over us. And now my foresight in fastening the rope around me proved, under Providence, the means of saving both our lives. Though thrown to the ground by the force of the water I contrived to retain my grasp of Coleman, and we were hauled up and conveyed beyond the reach of the surf by the strong arms of those on shore, ere another wave could approach to claim its victims.
On recovering my consciousness (I had been partially stunned by the violence of my last fall) I found myself lying on the beach, with my head resting on the breast of Oaklands.
“My dear, dear Frank, thank God that you are safe!” exclaimed he, pressing me more closely to him.
“What of Coleman?” asked I, endeavouring to raise myself.
“They are taking him to the inn,” was the reply; “I will go and see if I can be of any use, now I know you are unhurt; but I could not leave you till I felt sure of that.”
“I fancied you seemed in pain just now,” said I.
“I struck my head against some part of the boat when she capsized,” returned Oaklands, “and the blow stunned me for a minute or two, so that I knew nothing of what was going on till I saw you rush into the water to save Coleman; that roused me effectually, and I helped them to pull you both out. Frank, you have saved his life.”
“If it is saved,” rejoined I. “Let us go and see how he is getting on; I think I can walk now, if you will let me lean upon your arm.”
With the assistance of Oaklands I contrived to reach the inn without much difficulty; indeed, by the time I got there (the walk having served in great measure to restore my circulation) I scarcely felt any ill effects from my late exertions. The inn presented a rare scene of confusion: people were hurrying in and out, the messenger sent for the doctor had just returned, breathless, to say he was not to be found; the fat landlady, in a state of the greatest excitement, was trotting about making impracticable suggestions, to which no one paid the slightest attention, while Coleman, still insensible, lay wrapped in blankets before a blazing fire in the parlour, with the pretty barmaid on her knees beside him sobbing piteously, as she chafed his temples with some strong essence.
“That's the time of day!” exclaimed Lawless, as his eye fell upon a printed card which the landlady had just thrust into his hand, headed, “The directions of the Humane Society for the restoration of persons apparently drowned”. “We shall have it now all right,” added he, and then read as follows: “The first observation we must make, which is most important, is, that rolling the body on a tub—”
“Bring a tub,” cried the landlady eagerly, and off started several of the by-standers to follow her injunctions—
“Is most injurious,” continued Lawless; “but holding up by the legs with the head downwards”—(a party of volunteers, commanded by the landlady, rushed forward to obtain possession of Coleman's legs)—“is certain death,” shouted Lawless, concluding the sentence.
While this was going on I had been rubbing Coleman's hands between my own, in the hope of restoring circulation; and now, to my extreme delight, I perceived a slight pulsation at the wrist; next came a deep sigh, followed by a tremulous motion of the limbs; and, before five minutes were over, he was sufficiently restored to sit up, and recognise those about him. After this, his recovery progressed with such rapidity that ere half an hour had elapsed he was able to listen with interest to Oaklands' account of the circumstances attending his rescue, when Lawless, hastily entering the room, exclaimed: “Here's a slice of good luck, at all events; there's a post-chaise just stopped, returning to Helmstone, and the boy agrees to take us all for a shilling a head, as soon as he has done watering his horses. How is Freddy getting on?—will he be able to go?”
“All right, old fellow,” replied Coleman. “Thanks to Fairlegh in the first instance, and a stiff glass of brandy-and-water in the second, 'Richard's himself again!'”
“Well, you've had a near shave for it this time, however,” said Lawless; “there is more truth than I was aware of in the old proverb, 'If you are born to be hanged, you will never be drowned'; though, if it had not been for Frank Fairlegh, you would not have lived to fulfil your destiny.”
In another ten minutes we were all packed in and about the post-chaise; Coleman, Oaklands, and myself occupying the interior, while Lawless and Mullins rode outside. The promise of an extra half-crown induced the driver to use his best speed. At a quarter before five we were within a stone's-throw of home; and if that day at dinner Mrs. Mildman observed the pale looks and jaded appearance of some of the party, I have every reason to believe she has remained up to the present hour in total ignorance as to their cause.