"Mind! You've promised!" And he was gone.
Jessie kept her word. She turned her back upon them all, and went swiftly up the rugged road, with furze bushes on either side, never pausing till a higher spot was reached, whence she knew she could command a good view of the sea she had left. Jessie hesitated then; and the temptation proved too strong. She had not actually promised to give no backward glance.
One look, and she stood rooted to the spot. At that instant the boat, just launched and not two strokes from the beach, was caught in the grasp of a huge swell, which turned her round broadside to the land, and flung her back, bottom up. Her crew was scattered right and left.
No sound left Jessie's lips. She only stood like an image, staring, till one and another swam or struggled to shore. All were there, safe so far and apparently unhurt. Another trial would be made; Jessie saw so much. Then, remembering her promise, she once more turned away and went on along the lonely road, with a weight pulling at her heart. Who could say whether she would ever again look Jack Groates in the face?
It seemed, oh, such a pity for Jack to risk his life. Not that she would have liked Jack to be willing to hold back. Jessie thought with scorn of Ben Mokes, lazily safe at home. And yet it did seem such a pity!
Jessie had hardly known till to-day how much she cared for Jack. Barely nine months had elapsed since first the elder Groates had set up his shop in Old Maxham, and Jessie had learnt very gradually to know the family. She knew them now well, and she liked them all, unless the father were to be excepted; but certainly Jack stood first in her estimation.
And perhaps he would be dashed to pieces on those cruel rocks. Jessie was aware that just such an attempt had been made before, with a common boat, some three or four years earlier; and she remembered too well the result. Not a man of the little crew had come back alive. Then she tried to comfort herself by murmuring that that storm was worse than this.
Jack's message had to be taken to his mother the first thing. So she made her way to the western end of the main village street, and was soon standing outside the rival establishment, which was distinguished from Mokes' "shop" by the more Yankee name of "store." Jessie waited a moment. Then she slipped softly in, passing without a pause to the room behind. Business being slack that afternoon, Mr. Groates stood alone at the counter, and since he was occupied in lifting down a big canister from a high shelf, he did not even see Jessie's entrance.
In the back room was Mrs. Groates, a plump genial blue-eyed little body, with a smile like Jack's own and a motherly tenderness which had quickly won Jessie's heart. Of the seven children, six were still at home. The boy next after Jack had gone to sea. Then came Mimy, a girl of fifteen, three more boys, and one little girl. The four youngest were at school when Jessie stumbled into the room. A sudden realization of what she had to say almost overcame her.
"Why, Jessie, so it's you!" exclaimed Mrs. Groates. "We haven't seen you for days. Dear me, what an afternoon it is, to be sure! Come along and sit down by the fire, and tell us all the news. How is Miss Perkins? Why, child, you're as cold as anything. What's come to you, and where have you been?"