"Heaven have mercy upon him!" faltered Nelly, clasping her hands, and looking with terror upon the little boat, which seemed half swallowed up amidst the swelling billows.
"It is he! It is my boy! Oh! Can no one save him?" shrieked the voice of his wretched mother, as she stood with arms extended wildly towards him, the wind blowing back the hair from her pale horror-stricken face—watching the boat that held the idol of her heart.
Another awful gust. The boy was seen in the boat, vainly trying to furl the fluttering, struggling sail; then there was a cry heard even above the roaring storm.
"She's over! She's down! He's lost!" The mother lay senseless on the beach—her son was struggling in the midst of the waves! "God have pity on him! He cannot swim!" cried Mrs. Winter.
Nelly had closed her eyes in horror, a word from her father made her look round in new fear.
"Is it not madness to attempt it?" said Viner.
Walter had stripped off his coat and waistcoat, and was preparing to plunge into the surf.
"O Walter!" exclaimed Nelly, stretching out her hand; but she dared not utter the entreaty that rose to her lips—she dared not stop him in the course of duty.
"Pray for me!" whispered Walter. There was no time to say more—the next moment she saw him battling with the waves.
Motionless as a statue the young girl stood, able to utter no word, but pouring out her whole soul in fervent agonised prayer! Now a head and outspread arms were seen on the waters, then were lost again, as a huge swelling billow rolled on, as though to sweep away the swimmer, or bury him beneath its weight!