CHAPTER XXXV.
With clouds and storms
Around thee thrown, tempest on tempest roll'd.--Thomson.
Passing over all the consultations that took place between the prioress of Richborough, Dr. Wilbraham, and Lady Constance de Grey, regarding the means of crossing the sea to France with greater security, although manifold were the important considerations therein discussed, we shall merely arrive at the conclusion to which they came at length, and which was ultimately determined by the voice of the prioress. This was, that for several days Lady Constance and Mistress Margaret should remain at the convent as nuns, paying a very respectable sum for their board and lodging, while Dr. Wilbraham was to take up his abode at a cottage hard by. By this means, the superior said, they would avoid any search which the cardinal might have instituted to discover them in the vessels of passage between France and England, and at the end of a week they would easily find some foreign ship which would carry them over to Boulogne. Such a one she undertook to procure, by means of a fisherman who supplied the convent, and who, as she boasted, knew every ship that sailed through the Channel, from the biggest man-of-war to the meanest carvel.
We shall now leave in silence also the time which Lady Constance passed in the convent. Vonderbrugius, who, as the sagacious reader has doubtless observed, had a most extraordinary partiality for detailing little particulars, and incidents that are of no manner of consequence, here occupies sixteen pages with a correct and minute account of every individual day, telling how many masses the nuns sang, how often they fasted in the week, and how often they ate meat; and, not content with relating all that concerned Lady Constance, he indulges in some very illiberal insinuations in regard to the prioress, more than hinting that she loved her bottle and had a pet confessor.
Maintaining, however, our grave silence upon this subject, as not only irrelevant but ungentlemanlike, we shall merely say, that the days passed tranquilly enough with Lady Constance, although, like the timid creatures of the forest, whom the continual tyranny of the strong over the inoffensive has taught to start even at a sound, she would tremble at every little circumstance which for a moment interrupted the dull calm of the convent's solitude.
A week passed in this manner, and yet the prioress declared her old fisherman had heard of no vessel that could forward Constance on her journey, though the young lady became uneasy at the delay, and pressed her much to make all necessary inquiries. At length, happening one morning to express her uneasiness to Mistress Margaret, the shrewd waiting-woman, who, with an instinctive sagacity inherent in chambermaids, knew a thousand times more of the world than either her mistress or Dr. Wilbraham, at once solved the mystery by saying--
"Lord love you, lady! there will never be a single ship in the Channel that you will hear of, so long as you pay a gold mark a-day to the prioress while we stay."
"I would rather give her a hundred marks to let me go," replied Constance, "than a single mark to keep me. But what is to be done, Margaret?"
"Oh, if you will let me but promise fifty marks, lady," replied the maid, "I will warrant that we are in France in three days."
Lady Constance willingly gave her all manner of leave and license; and accordingly, that very night Mistress Margaret told the chamberer, under the most solemn vows of secresy, that her lady intended to give the prioress, as a gift to the convent, fifty golden marks on the day that she took ship. "But," said the abigail, "it costs the poor lady so much, what with paying the chaplain's keep at the cottage, and my wage-money, which you know I must have, that her purse is running low, and I fear me she will not be able to do as much for the house as she intends. But mind, you promised to tell no one."
"As I hope for salvation, it shall never pass my lips!" replied the chamberer; and away she ran to the refectory, where she bound the refectory-woman by a most tremendous vow not to reveal the tidings she was about to communicate. The refectory-woman vowed with a great deal of facility; and the moment the chamberer was gone she carried in a jelly to the prioress, where, with a low curtsey and an important whisper, she communicated to the superior the important news. Thereupon the prioress was instantly smitten with a violent degree of anxiety about Lady Constance's escape, and sending down to the fisherman, she commanded him instantly to find a ship going to France. To which the fisherman replied, that he knew of no ship going exactly to France, but that there was one lying off the sands, which would doubtless take the lady over for a few broad pieces.
Thus were the preliminaries for Constance's escape brought about in a very short space of time; and, the fisherman having arranged with the captain that he was to take the lady, the chaplain, and waiting-maid to Boulogne for ten George nobles, early the next morning Lady Constance took leave of the prioress, made her the stipulated present, and, accompanied by the good Dr. Wilbraham and her woman, followed the fisherman to the sands, where his boat waited to convey them to a vessel that lay about a mile from the shore.
The sea was calm and tranquil, but to Constance, who had little of a heroine in her nature, it seemed very rough; and every time the boat rose over a wave, she fancied that it must inevitably pitch under the one that followed. However, their passage to the ship was soon over; and as she looked at the high, black sides of the vessel, the lady found a greater degree of security in its aspect, imagining it better calculated to battle with the wild waves than the flimsy little bark that had borne her thither.
The ship, the fisherman had informed her, was a foreign merchantman; and as she came alongside, a thousand strange tongues, gabbling all manner of languages, met her ear. It was a floating tower of Babel. In the midst of the confusion and bustle which occurred in getting herself and her companions upon the deck, she saw that one of the sailors attempted to spring from the ship into the boat, but was restrained by those about him, who unceremoniously beat him back with marline-spikes and ropes' ends; and for the time she beheld no more of him, though she thought she heard some one uttering invectives and complaints in the English language.
For the first few moments after she was on deck, what with the giddiness occasioned by her passage in the boat, and the agitation of getting on board, she could remark nothing that was passing around her; but the moment she had sufficiently recovered to regard the objects by which she was surrounded, a new cause of apprehension presented itself; for close by her side, evidently as commander of the vessel, stood no less distinguished a person than the Portingal captain, of whom honourable mention is made in the first portion of this sage history, and whose proboscis was not easily to be forgot.
It was too late now, however, to recede; and her only resource was to draw down her nun's veil, hoping thus to escape being recognised. For some time she had reason to believe that the disguise she had assumed would be effectual with the Portingal, who, as we may remember, had seen her but once; for, occupied in giving orders for weighing anchor and making sail, he took no notice whatever of his fair passenger, and seemed totally to have forgotten her person. But this was not the case: his attention had been first awakened to Lady Constance herself by the sight of Dr. Wilbraham, whose face he instantly remembered; and a slight glance convinced him that the young nun was the bright lady he had seen in Sir Payan's halls.
Though there were few of the pleasant little passions which make a man a devil that the worthy Portingal did not possess to repletion, it sometimes happened that one battled against the other and foiled it in its efforts; but being withal somewhat of a philosopher, after a certain fashion, it was a part of his internal policy, on which he prided himself, to find means of gratifying each of the contending propensities when it was possible, and, when it was not possible, to satisfy the strongest with as little offence to the others as might be. In the present instance he had several important points to consider. Though he felt strongly inclined to carry Lady Constance with him on a voyage which he was about to make to the East Indies, yet there might be danger in the business, if the young lady had really taken the veil: not only danger in case of his vessel being searched by any cruiser he might encounter, but even danger from his own lawless crew, who, though tolerably free from prejudices, still retained a certain superstitious respect for the church of Rome, and for the things it had rendered sacred, which the worthy captain had never been able to do away with. This consideration would have deterred him from any evil attempt upon the fair girl, whom he otherwise seemed to hold completely in his power, had it not been for the additional incentive of the two large leathern bags which had been committed into his charge at the same time with the young lady, and which, by the relation of their size to their weight, he conceived must contain a prize of some value. Determined by this, he gave orders for making all sail down the Channel, and the ship being fairly under way, he could no longer resist the temptation which the opportunity presented of courting the good graces of his fair passenger. Approaching, then, with an air of what he conceived mingled dignity and sweetness, his head swinging backwards and forwards on the end of his long neck, and his infinite nose protruded like a pointer's when he falls upon the game--"Ah, ah! my very pretty gal," cried he, "you see you be obliged to have recourse to me at last."
"My good friend," said Dr. Wilbraham, struggling with the demon of sea-sickness, which had grasped him by the stomach and was almost squeezing his soul out, "you had better let the lady alone, for she is so sick that she cannot attend to you, though, doubtless, you mean to be civil in your way."
"You go to the debil, master chaplain," replied the captain, "and preach to him's imps! I say, my very pretty mistress, suppose you were to pull up this dirty black veil, and show your charming face;" and he drew aside the young lady's veil in spite of her efforts to hold it down.
At the helm, not far from where the young lady sat, stood a sturdy seaman, who, by his clear blue eye, fresh, weather-beaten countenance, and bluff, unshrinking look, one might easily have marked out as an English sailor. Leaning on the tiller by which he was steering the vessel on her course, he had marked his worthy captain's conduct with a sort of contemplative frown; but when, stooping down, the Portingallo tore away Lady Constance's veil, and amused himself by staring in her face, the honest sailor stretched out his foot, and touched him on a protuberant part of his person which presented itself behind. The captain, turning sharply round, eyed him like a demon, but the Englishman stood his glance with a look of steady, nonchalant resolution, that it was not easy to put down.
"I say, Portingallo," said he, "do you want me to heave you overboard?"
"You heave me overboard, you mutinous thief!" cried the captain; "I'll have you strung up to the yard-arm, you vaggleboned! I will."
"You'll drown a little first, by the nose of the tinker of Ashford!" replied the other; "but hark you, Portingallo: let the young lady nun alone; or, as I said before, by the nose of the tinker of Ashford, I'll heave you overboard; and then I'll make the crew a 'ration, and tell them what a good service I've done 'em; and I'll lay down the matter in three heads: first, as you were a rascal; second, as you were a villain; and third, as you were a blackguard: then I will show how, first, you did wrong to a passenger; second, how you did wrong to a lady; and third, how you did wrong to a nun: for the first you deserve to be flogged; for the second you deserve to be kicked; and for the third you are devilish likely to be hanged, with time and God's blessing."
For a moment or two the Portingallo was somewhat confounded by the eloquence of the Englishman, who was in fact no other than Timothy Bradford, the chief of the Rochester rioters. Recovering himself speedily, however, he retaliated pretty warmly, yet did not dare to come to extremities with his rebellious steersman, as Bradford, having taken refuge in his vessel, with four or five of his principal associates, commanded too strong a party on board to permit very strict discipline. It was a general rule of the amiable captain never to receive two men that, to his knowledge, had ever seen one another before; but several severe losses in his crew had, in the present instance, driven him into an error, which he now felt bitterly, not being half so much master of his own wickedness as he used to be before. Nevertheless, he did not fail to express his opinion of the helmsman's high qualities in no very measured terms, threatening a great deal more than he dared perform, of which both parties were well aware.
"Come, come, Portingallo!" cried the helmsman; "you know very well what is right as well as another, and I say you sha'n't molest the lady. Another thing, master: you treat that poor lubberly Jekin like a brute, and I'll not see it done, so look to it. But I'll tell you what, captain: let us mind what we are about. These dark clouds that are gathering there to leeward, and coming up against the wind, mean something. Better take in sail."
The effect of this conversation was to free Constance from the persecution of the captain; and turning her eyes in the direction to which the sailor pointed, she saw, rolling up in the very face of the wind, some heavy, leaden clouds, tipped with a lurid reddish hue wherever they were touched by the sun. Above their heads, and to windward, the sky was clear and bright, obscured by nothing but an occasional light cloud that flitted quickly over the heaven, drawing after it a soft shadow, that passed like an arrow over the gay waves, which all around were dancing joyously in the sunshine.
By this time the English coast was becoming fainter and more faint; the long line of cliffs and headlands massing together, covered with an airy and indistinct light, while the shores of France seemed growing out of the waters, with heavy piles of clouds towering above them, and seeming to advance, with menacing mien, towards the rocks of England. Still, though the eye might mark them rolling one over another, in vast, dense volumes, looking fit receptacles for the thunder and the storm, the clouds seemed to make but little progress, contending with the opposing wind; while mass after mass, accumulating from beyond, appeared to bring up new force to the dark front of the tempest.
Still the ship sped on, and, the wind being full in her favour, made great way through the water, so that it was likely they would reach Boulogne before the storm began; and the captain, now obliged to abandon any evil purpose he might have conceived towards Lady Constance, steered towards the shore of France to get rid of her as soon as possible. From time to time every eye on board was turned towards the lowering brow of heaven, and then always dropped to the French coast, to ascertain how near was the tempest and how far the haven; and Constance, not sufficiently sick to be heedless of danger, ceased not to watch the approaching clouds and the growing shore with alternate hope and fear. Gradually the hills towards Boulogne, the cliffs, and the sands, with dark lines of tower, and wall, and citadel, and steeple, began to grow more and more distinct; and the Portingal was making a tack to run into the harbour, when the vane at the mast-head began to quiver, and in a moment after turned suddenly round. Cries and confusion of every sort succeeded; one of the sails was completely rent to pieces; and the ship received such a sudden shock that Constance was cast from her seat upon the deck, and poor Dr. Wilbraham rolled over, and almost pitched out at the other side. Soon, however, the yards were braced round, the vessel was put upon another tack, and from a few words that passed between the captain and the steersman, Constance gathered, that as they could not get into Boulogne, they were about to run for Whitesand Haven as the nearest port.
"Go down below, lady; go down below and tell your beads," cried the steersman, as he saw Constance sitting and holding herself up by the binnacle. "Here, Jekey, help her down."
"Lord 'a mercy! we shall all be drowned; I am sure we shall!" cried our old friend Jekin Groby, coming forward, transformed into the likeness of a bastard sailor, his new profession sitting upon him with inconceivable awkwardness, and the Kentish clothier shining forth in every movement of his inexpert limbs. "Lord 'a mercy upon us! we shall all be drowned as sure as possible! Mistress nun, let me help you down below. It's more comfortable to be drowned downstairs, they say. There's a flash of lightning, I declare! Mercy upon us! we shall all go to the bottom. This is the worst storm I've seen since that Portingallo vagabond kidnapped me, by the help of the devil and Sir Payan Wileton. Let me help you down below, mistress nun. Lord bless you! it's no trouble; I'm going down myself."
Constance, however, preferred staying upon deck, where she could watch the progress of their fate, to remaining below in a state of uncertainty; and consequently resisted the honest persuasions of good Jekin Groby, who, finding her immoveable, slipped quietly below unobserved, and hid himself in an empty hammock, courageously making up his mind to be drowned, if he could but be drowned, asleep.
In the mean time the storm began to grow more vehement, the wind coming in quick violent gusts, and the clouds spreading far and wide over the face of the sky, with a threatening blackness of hue, and heavy slowness of flight, that menaced their instant descent. As yet no second flash of lightning had succeeded the first, and no drop of rain had fallen; and though the ship laboured violently with the waves, excited into tumult by the sudden change of wind, still, running on, she seemed in a fair way of reaching Whitesand in safety. Presently, another bright flash blazed through the sky, and seemed to rend it from the horizon to the zenith, while instant upon the red path of its fiery messenger roared forth the voice of the thunder, as if it would annihilate the globe. Another now succeeded, and another, till the ear and the eye were almost deafened by the din and blinded by the light; while slow, large drops came dripping from the heavens, like tears wrung by agony from a giant's eyes. Then came a still and death-like pause; the thunder ceased, the wind hushed, and the only sounds that met the ear were the rushing of the waves by the ship's side, and the pattering of each big raindrop as it fell on the deck; while a small sea-bird kept wheeling round the vessel, and screaming, as with a sort of fiendish joy, to see it labouring with the angry billows. Soon again, however, did the storm begin with redoubled fury, and the lightnings flashed more vividly than ever, covering all the sky with broad blue sheets of light, while still in the midst of the whole blaze appeared a narrow zigzag line of fire, so bright that it made the rest look pale.
Still Constance kept upon the deck, and drawing her hood over her head, strove to fix herself, amidst the pitching of the vessel, by clinging to the binnacle, which in ships of that day was often supported by a couple of oblique bars. Seeing, in a momentary cessation of the storm, the eye of the steersman fix upon her with a look of somewhat like pity, she ventured to ask if they were in much danger.
"Danger! bless you, no, lady," cried the man; "only a little thunder and lightning; no danger in life. But you had better go below; there's no danger."
As he spoke, another bright flash caused Constance to close her eyes; but a tremendous crash, which made itself audible even through the roar of the thunder, as well as a heavy roll of the vessel, gave her notice that the lightning had struck somewhere; and looking up, to her horror she beheld the mainmast shivered almost to atoms by the lightning, and rolled over the ship's side, to which it was still attached by a mass of blazing cordage.
"Cut! cut! cut!" vociferated the steersman, amidst the unavailing shouts and bustling inactivity of the crew; "cut, you Portingallo vagabonds! You'll have the ship on fire. The idiots are staring as if they never saw such a thing before. Here, captain, take the helm. D---- you to h--! take the helm!" And springing forward, with an energy to which the danger of the moment seemed to lend additional impulse, he scattered the frightened Portuguese and impassive Dutchmen, who were uncluing ropes and disentangling knots; and, catching up a hatchet, soon cut sheer through the thicker rigging; and with a roll the blazing remnants of the mast pitched into the sea, leaving nothing on fire behind but some scattered cordage, which the Englishman and his companions gradually extinguished.
In the mean while the mast, still flaming in the water, swung round the ship; and the Portingallo, whose presence of mind did not seem of the very first quality, brought the vessel's head as near the wind as possible, to let it drift astern, and thus, by this lubberly action, bore right upon the shore, carried on imperceptibly by a strong current.
At that moment the Englishman raised himself, and looking out ahead, vociferated, "A reef! a reef! Breakers ahead! Down with the helm! where the devil are you going? Down with the helm, I say!" and rushing forward, he seized the tiller, but too late. Scarcely had he touched it with his hand, when with a tremendous shock the ship struck on the reef, making her very seams open and her masts stagger. "Ho! down in the hold! down in the hold! heave all the ballast aft!" cried Bradford; "lay those cannon here; bring her head to wind, let it take her aback if it will. She may swing off yet."
But just then an immense swelling wave heaved the ship up like a cork, and dashed her down again upon the hidden rocks without hope or resource. Every one caught at what was next him for support; for the jar was so great that it was hardly possible for even the sailors to keep upon their feet. But the next minute the ship became more steady, and a harsh grating sound succeeded, as if the hard angles of the rock were tearing the bottom of the ship to pieces. Every one now occupied himself in a different way. Bradford sat quietly down by the tiller, which he abandoned to its own guidance, while the Portingal ran whispering among his countrymen, who as speedily and silently as possible got the boat to the ship's side. In the mean while, Dr. Wilbraham crept over to Lady Constance, who, turning her meek eyes to heaven, seemed to await her fate with patient resignation.
"I need not ask you, my dear child," said the good man, "if you be prepared to go. Have you anything to say to me before we part? soon I hope, to meet again where no storms come."
"But little," answered Constance; and according to the rite of her church, she whispered all the little faults that memory could supply, accusing herself of many things as sins which few but herself would have held as even errors. When he had heard the lady's confession, the clergyman turned to look for the waiting-woman, to join her with her mistress in the consolations of religion; but Mistress Margaret, who greatly preferred the present to the future, was no longer there; and looking forward, they saw that the Portuguese and Dutch had got out the boats, and were pouring in fast; but that which most astonished them was to find that the selfish waiting-woman had by some means got the very first place in the long-boat, from which the captain was striving to exclude two of the Englishmen, pushing off from the ship with the boathook. The lesser boat, however, was still near, and Dr. Wilbraham looked at Constance with an inquiring glance; but Bradford, who had never stirred from his position, interposed, saying, "Don't go, lady! don't go; stick to the ship; she can't sink, for the tide is near flood, and we are now aground, and it may be a while before she goes to pieces. Those boats can never live through that surf. So don't go, lady! Take my advice, and I'll manage to save you yet, if I can save myself."
Even as he spoke, the two Englishmen made a desperate jump to leap into the lesser boat, which was pulling away after the other. One man fell too short, and sank instantly; the other got hold of the gunwale, and strove to clamber in; but the boat was already too full, and a sea striking it at the moment, his weight put it out of trim; it shipped a heavy sea, settled for a moment, and sank before their eyes.
It was a dreadful sight; and yet so deep, so exciting was the interest, that even after she had seen the whole ten persons sink, and some rise again, only to be overwhelmed by another wave, Constance could not take her eyes off the other boat, although she expected every moment to see it share the fate of its companion. Still, however, it rowed on. The thunder had ceased, the wind was calmer, and the waves seemed less agitated. There was hope that it might reach the shore. At that moment it was hidden for an instant below a wave, rose again, entered the surf, disappeared amidst the foam and spray. Constance looked to see it rise again, but it never was seen more; and in a few minutes she could distinguish a dark figure scramble out from the sea upon the shore, rise, fall again, lie for a moment as if exhausted, and then, once more gaining his feet, run with all speed out of the way of the coming waves.
"Oh dear! oh dear!" cried a dolorous voice from below; "we shall all be drowned for a sure certainty: the water's a-coming in like mad!" and in a moment after, the head, and then the body, of honest Jekin Groby protruded itself from the hold, with strong signs and tokens in his large thick eyelids of having just awoke from a profound sleep. "Lord 'a mercy!" continued he, seeing the nearly empty deck. "Where are all the folks? Oh, Master Bradford, Master Bradford! we are in a bad way! The water has just awoke me out of my sleep. What's the meaning of that thumping? Lord 'a mercy! where's the Portingal?"
"Drowned!" answered Bradford, calmly, "and every one of his crew, except Hinchin, the strong swimmer, who has got to land."
"Lord 'a mercy! only think!" cried Jekin. "Must I be drowned too? Hadn't I better jump over? I can swim a little too. Shall I jump over, Master Bradford? Pray tell me--there's a good creature!"
"No, no; stay where you are," replied Bradford. "Help me to lash this young lady to a spar. When the tide turns, which it will at four o'clock, that surf will go down, and the ship will keep together till then. Most likely Hinchin will send a boat before that to take us all off. If not, we can but trust to the water at last. However, let us all be ready."
Bradford now brought forth from the hold some rough planks, to one of which he lashed Lady Constance, who yielded herself to his guidance, only praying that he would do the same good turn to the clergyman, which he promised willingly. He then tied a small piece of wood across, to support her head, and fastened one of the heavy leathern bags to her feet, to raise her face above the water; after which, as she was totally unable to move, he placed her in as easy a position as he could, and speaking a few frank words of comfort and assurance, he left her, to perform the same office in favour of Dr. Wilbraham.
In the mean time Jekin Groby had not forgotten himself; but, willing to put his faith rather in the buoyancy of deal boards than in his own powers of natation, had contrived to find a stout sort of packing-case, or wooden box, from which he knocked out both the top and bottom, and passing his feet through the rest, he raised it up till it reached his arm-pits, where he tied it securely; and thus equipped in his wooden girdle, as he called it, he did not fear to trust himself to the waves.
All being now prepared, an hour or more of anxious expectation succeeded. Little was said by any one, and the tempest had ceased; but the grinding sound of the ship fretting upon the rock still continued, and a sad creaking and groaning of the two masts that remained seemed to announce their speedy fall. The wind had greatly subsided, but the air was heated and close; while the clouds overhead, still agitated by the past storm, every now and then came down in thick small rain. Towards four o'clock the tide turned; and, as Bradford had prognosticated, the surf upon the shore gradually subsided, and the sea became more smooth, though agitated by a heavy swell, foaming into breakers along the whole line of reef on which the ship had struck. After looking out long, in the vain hope of seeing some boat coming to their assistance, Bradford approached Lady Constance, and addressing her, as indeed he had done throughout, with far more gentleness and consideration than might have been expected from a man of his rough and turbulent character, "Lady," said he, "there seems to be no chance of a boat; the sea is now nearly smooth; I can't warrant that the ship will hold together all night, and we may have the storm back again. If you like to go now, I will get you safe to land, I am sure. I can't answer for it if you stay."
"I will do as you think right," said Lady Constance, with an involuntary shudder at the thought of trusting herself to the mercy of the waves. "I will do as you think right; but pray take care of Dr. Wilbraham."
"No, no!" said the good chaplain; "make the lady all your care. I shall do well enough."
"Here, good fellow!" said Constance, taking a diamond of price from her finger; "perhaps you may reach the shore without either of us: however, whether you do or not, take this jewel as some recompense for your good service."
The man took the ring, muttering that, if he reached the shore, she should reach it too; and then, after giving some directions to Dr. Wilbraham in regard to rowing himself on towards the land with his arms, which were free, he carried Lady Constance to the side of the vessel, which had now heeled almost to the water's edge. Returning for Dr. Wilbraham, with the assistance of Jekin he brought him also to the side; and then it became the question who should be the first to trust himself to the waves. Constance trembled violently, but said not a word, while Jekin Groby, holding back, exclaimed, "Lord 'a mercy! I don't like it--at all like!"
It was upon him, however, that Bradford fixed, crying, "Come, jump over, Jeky; there's no use of making mouths at it. I want you to help the clerk to steer. Come, jump over!" and he laid his hand upon his shoulder.
"Well, well; I will, Master Bradford," cried Jekin, "don't ye touch me, and I will. Oh dear! oh dear! it's mighty disagreeable. Well, well, I will!" and bending his hams, he made as if he would have taken a vigorous leap; but his courage failed him, and he only made a sort of hop of a few inches on the deck, without approaching any nearer to the water. Out of patience, Bradford caught him by the shoulder, and pushed him at once head-foremost into the water, from which he rose in a moment, all panting, buoyed up by the wooden case under his arms.
"Here, Jekey," cried Bradford, "take the doctor's feet, as your arms are free;" and with the assistance of the worthy clothier, who bore no malice, he let down Dr. Wilbraham into the water, and returned to the lady.
As pale as death, Constance shut her eyes and held her breath, while the rough sailor took her in his arms, and let her glide slowly into the water, which in a moment after she felt dashing round her uncontrolled. Opening her eyes, and panting for breath, she stretched out her arms, almost deprived of consciousness; but at that moment Bradford jumped at once into the sea, and seizing the board to which she was tied, put it in its right position; so that, though many a domineering wave would rise above its fellows, and dash its salt foam over her head, her mouth was generally elevated above the water sufficiently to allow her full room to breathe.
The distance of the ship from the land was about a quarter of a mile; but between it and the shore lay a variety of broken rocks, raising their rough heads above the waves that dashed furiously amongst them, making a thousand struggling whirlpools and eddies round their sharp angles, as the retiring sea withdrew its unwilling waters from the strand. Constance, however, did not see all this; for, her face being turned towards the sky, nothing met her sight but the changeable face of heaven, with the clouds hurrying over it, or the green billows on either side, threatening every moment to overwhelm her. Often, often did her heart sink, and hard was it for the spirit of a timid girl, even supported by her firm trust in God's mercy, to keep the spark of hope alive within her bosom, while looking on the perils that surrounded her, and fancying a thousand that she did not behold.
Still the stout seaman swam beside her, piloting the little raft he had made for her towards the shore, through all the difficulties of the navigation, which were not few or small; for the struggle between the retiring tide and the impetus given by the wind rendered almost every passage between the rocks a miniature Scylla and Charybdis.
At length, however, choosing a moment when the waves flowed fully in between two large rough stones, whose heads protruded almost perpendicularly, he grasped the plank to which Constance was tied with his left hand, and striking a few vigorous strokes with his right, soon placed her within the rocky screen with which the coast was fenced, and within whose boundary the water was comparatively calm. The first object that presented itself to his sight, within this haven, was the long-boat, keel upwards; while, tossed by the waves upon one of the large flat stones that the ebbing tide had left half bare, appeared the corpse of the Portingal captain, his feet and body on the rock, and his head drooping back, half covered by the water. In a minute after, the sailor's feet could touch the ground; and gladly availing himself of the power to walk upon terra firma, he waded on, drawing after him the plank on which Constance lay till, reaching the dry land, he pulled her to the shore, cut the cord that tied her, and placed her on her feet.
Constance's first impulse was to throw herself on her knees, and to thank God for his great mercy; her next to express her gratitude to the honest sailor, who, weary and out of breath with his exertion, sat on a rock hard by; but bewildered with all that had passed, she could scarcely find words to speak, feeling herself in a world that seemed hardly her own, so near had she been to the brink of another. After a few confused sentences, she looked suddenly round, exclaiming, "Oh, where is Dr. Wilbraham?"
The sailor started up, and getting on the rock, looked out beyond, where, about two hundred yards off, he perceived honest Jekin Groby making his way towards the shore in one direction, while the plank to which the amiable clergyman was attached was seen approaching the rocks in another, at a point where the waters were boiling with tenfold violence.
Constance's eye had already caught his long black habiliments, mingled with the white foam of the waves; and seeing that every fresh billow threatened to dash him to pieces against the stones, she clasped her hands in agony, and looked imploringly towards the sailor.
"He will have his brains dashed out, sure enough," said the man, watching him. "Zounds! he must be mad to try that. Stay here, lady; I will see what can be done;" and rushing into the water, he waded as far as he could towards Dr. Wilbraham, and then once more began swimming.
Constance watched him with agonizing expectation; but before he reached the point, an angry wave swept round the good old man, and raising him high upon its top, dashed him violently against the rock. Constance shuddered, and clasping her hands over her eyes, strove to shut out the dreadful sight. In a few minutes she heard the voice of the sailor shouting to Jekin Groby, who had reached the shore, "Here, lend a hand!" and looking up, she saw him drawing the clergyman to land in the same manner that he had extricated herself.
Jekin Groby waded in to help him, and Constance flew to the spot which he approached; but the sight that presented itself made her blood run cold. Dr. Wilbraham was living indeed, but so dreadfully torn and bruised by beating against the rocks, that all hope seemed vain, and those who had best loved him might have regretted that he had not met with a speedier and more easy death.
Opening his exhausted eyes, he yet looked gladly upon the sweet girl that he had reared, like a young flower, from her early days to her full beauty, and who now hung tenderly over him. "Thank God, my dear child," said he, "that you are safe. That is the first thing: for me, I am badly hurt, very badly hurt; but perhaps I may yet live: I could wish it to see you happy; but if not, God's will be done!"
Constance wept bitterly, and good Jekin Groby, infected with her sorrow, blubbered like a great baby.
"There, leave off snivelling, you great fool!" cried Bradford, wiping something like a tear from his own rough cheek, "and help me to carry the good gentleman to some cottage." Thus saying, with the assistance of Jekin he raised the old man, and, followed by Constance, bore him on in search of an asylum.