A NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN NIGHT
"Be brave! Remember that you are a Meadow-Brook Girl, Tommy," encouraged Harriet. "We are swimmers. We can't drown unless we get into a panic. There is a boat somewhere hereabouts. I saw one sail into the cove, or the bay, whichever it is, before I went to sleep this evening. The men surely will be coming out in the morning; then, if we are too far from shore to get in, we ought to be able to attract their attention. They will pick us up."
"Do—do you think we are far from thhore?"
"I fear so. Still, I can't be certain about that. I am dreadfully confused and don't know one direction from another. I wish the moon would come up. That would give us our points of compass. Perhaps the clouds may blow away after a little. We shall at least be able to see more clearly after that."
"Oh, I'm tho cold! I'm freething, Har-r-r-i-e-t."
"I will fix that. Come, swim with me. We will ride the waves," cried Harriet. The swells were long and high. Now they would ride to the top of one, then go slipping down the other side on a plane of almost oily smoothness. At such times Tommy would cry out. Even Harriet's heart would sink as she glanced up at the towering mountains of water on either side of them. It seemed as if nothing could save them from being engulfed, buried under tons of dark water. At the second when all hope appeared to be gone they would find themselves being slowly lifted up and up and up until once more they topped another mountainous swell.
Fortunately for the two girls, the tops of the swells were in most instances solid, dark water. The strong wind having gone down, the crests generally showed no white, broken foam. When such an one was met with it meant a rough few moments for the Meadow-Brook Girls and a severe shaking up. Tommy had been in the surf on many occasions, when at the sea shore with her parents, and understood it fairly well. Harriet had never been in the salt water, but was guided wholly by the instincts of the swimmer, of one who loved the water, and for whom it seemed almost her natural element, and in the excitement of the hour she at times forgot the peril of their position. So far as she knew they might already be far out to sea, with a mile or more of salt water underneath them.
In the meantime there was intense excitement in the camp. Miss Elting had been a witness to the sudden disappearance of Grace and Harriet. She had seen both girls enveloped in the cloud of spray and dark water. Jane McCarthy had gone bounding toward the beach, followed by their guardian and several of the Camp Girls, who, though not having seen Harriet and Grace disappear, surmised something of the truth.
Reaching the edge of the bluff, they saw at once what had occurred. A large portion of the sandy bluff had sloughed off and slipped into the sea, having been loosened and undermined by the persistent smash of the waves against the bluff. Jane started to leap down, but Miss Elting caught her in time.
"No, no, no," protested the guardian; "you must not!"
"But they are down there drowning!" screamed Crazy Jane.
"There is nothing we can do to save them. They aren't there. You can see they are not."
"But if not, where are they?" cried Jane.
"My dears, if they went in there they undoubtedly have been carried out. The undertow is very strong in a storm such as this," said Mrs. Livingston sadly. She had hurried down to the beach upon seeing the others running in that direction, to ascertain the cause.
"Some one get a boat!" screamed Margery.
The Chief Guardian shook her head sadly.
"There is no boat here. Even if there were, we could not launch it against that sea, nor would it live a moment did we succeed in getting it launched. We can do no more than trust in God and wait. You see the wind is blowing on shore and—"
"No, it is blowing off toward the cove. The wind has shifted," answered Jane McCarthy. "But that doesn't help us a bit."
"Gather wood and build a fire," commanded Mrs. Livingston.
The Camp Girls hurriedly set about gathering fuel for a fire, but having brought wood, the fuel refused to burn. The rain had thoroughly soaked everything. The merest flicker of flame was all they were able to get. They tried again and again, but with no better results, finally giving up the attempt altogether.
"I am afraid we shall have to let it go," decided the Chief Guardian. "A light would help so much, and, if the two girls are alive, would serve as a guide for them."
Jane interrupted by uttering a shrill cry. She listened, but there was no response. She cried out again and again, then finally gave up the effort.
"I'm afraid they are gone," she moaned.
"Unless they were hurt when the wave struck them I do not believe they are lost," said Miss Elting, with a calmness and hopefulness that she really did not feel, though she dared not permit herself to admit that Harriet and Grace really had been lost. "Both are excellent swimmers, and Harriet never would give up so long as there was a breath of life left in her body."
"But can't we do something?" pleaded Margery.
The Chief Guardian shook her head sadly.
"I fear we can not. You have but to look out there to know that any efforts on our part would be futile."
Miss Elting suddenly cried out.
"Girls, what can we be thinking of? We must patrol the beach. The sea is going down a little. Divide up into pairs; keep as close to the shore as possible without being caught by a wave; then search every foot of the beach all along. I will go up the beach. Hazel, you come with me. Mrs. Livingston, will you have the other girls assist us?"
The Chief Guardian gave the orders promptly. Fifty girls began running along the shore. Mrs. Livingston quickly called them back, dividing the party into groups of two. She was very business-like and calm, which, in a measure, served to calm the girls themselves.
"Look carefully," she cautioned. "The missing girls may have been washed ashore; they may be found nearly drowned, and it may not be too late to revive them. Make all haste!"
There was no delay. The Camp Girls took up their work systematically. A thorough search was made of the beach in both directions, the patrols eventually returning to the Chief Guardian to report that they had found no trace of the missing girls.
"Keep moving. They may drift in," commanded Mrs. Livingston.
The search was again taken up, pairs of girls going over the ground thoroughly, investigating every shadow, every sticky mass of sea weed that caught their anxious glances, but not a sign of either of the two girls did they find.
An hour had passed; then Mrs. Livingston called them in. She directed certain groups to return to camp and begin getting the tents laid out, and to put up such as were in condition to be raised. The Chief Guardian herself remained on the beach with Miss Elting and the Meadow-Brook Girls. There was little conversation. The women walked slowly back and forth, scanning the sea, of which they could see but little, for the night was still very dark. At first they tried calling out at intervals, ceasing only when their voices had grown hoarse. To none of their calls was there any reply. Harriet and Tommy were too far out, and the noise about them was too great to permit of their hearing a human voice, even had it been closer at hand.
Meantime the two girls were now swimming quite steadily. Harriet knew that, were they to remain quiet too long, they would grow stiff and gradually get chilled through. That would mark the end, as she well understood. Then again it was necessary to give Tommy enough to do to keep her mind from her troubles, which were many that night.
All the time Harriet was straining eyes and ears to locate the land. She had not the remotest idea in which direction it lay, and dared not swim straight ahead in any direction for fear of going farther away. The wind died out and rose again. Had it continued to freshen from the start, she would have permitted herself to drift with it, but Harriet feared that the wind had veered, and that it was now blowing out to sea, what little there was of it, so she tried to swim about in a circle in so far as was possible. Tommy, of course, knew nothing of what was in the mind of her companion, nor did Harriet think best to confide in her.
"I'm getting tired. I can't keep up much longer," wailed Grace.
"Rest a moment on your back. I will keep a hand under your shoulders so you won't sink. If only one knew it, it isn't really possible to sink, provided the lungs are kept well filled with air and no water swallowed."
"I could think like a thtone if I let mythelf go."
"Don't let yourself go. There is every reason why you should not, and not one why you should."
"Yeth." Tommy turned over on her back. "Did you ever thwallow thalt water?"
"I never did."
"Then don't. It ith awful. Oh, I'm tho tired and I'm getting thleepy."
Harriet roused herself instantly. She gave Tommy a brisk slap on one cheek. Tommy cried out and began fighting back, with the result that she was the one to swallow salt water. Tommy choked, strangled and floundered, still screaming for Harriet to save her. Instead Harriet let her companion struggle, keeping close to her, but making no effort to help.
"Thave me!"
It was a choking moan. Uttering it, Tommy disappeared. Harriet lunged for her and dragged her companion up, and none too soon, for the little girl had swallowed so much salt water that she was really half drowned. Harriet shook her and pounded her on the back, all the time managing to float on the surface of the water, evidencing that Harriet was something of a swimmer. Yet she was becoming weary and the sense of feeling was leaving her limbs. She realized that it was the chill of the Atlantic and that unless she succeeded in restoring her circulation she would soon be helpless. Just now, however, all her efforts were devoted to the task of arousing Grace. The little girl began to whimper and to struggle anew.
"I am amazed at you, Tommy," gasped Harriet. "You, a swimmer, to swallow part of the ocean!"
"I didn't. The ocean thwallowed me—e."
"You must work. Swim, Tommy!"
"I—I can't. I'm tho tired." Grace made languid efforts to prove that she was weary. There could be no doubt of it. She did not have the endurance possessed by her companion, and even Harriet's strength was leaving her, because of that terrible numbness in her lower limbs, a numbness that was creeping upward little by little.
"I will help you. But you must do something for yourself. Turn over on your stomach. There. You need not try to fight it, just make swimming motions, slowly. Not so fast. Now you have the pace."
"I can't keep it. My limbth will not work. My kneeth are thtiff. Oh, Harriet, I think I'm going to die!"
"Nonsense! Why, you could swim all night, if necessary, and be up in time for six o'clock breakfast just the same."
"Breakfatht. It will be fithh for breakfatht for Tommy Thompthon, I gueth. Fithh, Harriet, fithh," mumbled Grace, then ceased swimming. "Fithh!"
"Poor girl, she is about done for!" muttered Harriet Burrell. She turned Tommy over on her back and, placing a hand under the little girl, began swimming slowly. The added burden was almost more than Harriet, in her benumbed state, was able to handle. She knew that she could not support Grace and herself through the rest of that long, dark night. She knew, too, that unless they were rescued, her companion would be past help by the end of another hour. It already seemed hours since they had slipped into the sea and rode out on the crest of a receding wave. Now her movements were becoming slower and slower. She seemed not to possess the power to move her limbs. It was not all weariness either; it was that dragging numbness that was pulling her down.
Harriet fought a more desperate battle with herself than she ever had been called upon to fight before. She did not now believe that they would be rescued, but that did not prevent her keeping up the battle as long as a single vestige of strength remained. It was sheer grit that kept Harriet Burrell afloat during that long, heart-breaking swim among the Atlantic rollers on this never-to-be-forgotten night.
But at last the girl ceased swimming. Her limbs simply would not move in obedience to her will; her arms seemed weighed down by some tremendous pressure; her head grew heavy and her senses dulled.
"I believe this is the end," muttered Harriet. One great struggle, then her weary muscles relaxed. For a few moments she floated on her back, turned over with a great effort, then settled lower and lower in the water, all the time fighting to regain possession of her faculties, but growing weaker with each effort.
Then Harriet Burrell went down, dragging Tommy with her.