Briefly, but clearly, Mr Curtis explained the situation, and how a search party was needed without delay, and the white-haired patriarch of the hamlet, though he had no love for the house of Dorrien, at once issued his mandates accordingly. Most of the hands were away in the boats, he said, but here were his two lads, Jem and David, who, by the way, had both well turned forty. Then they might turn out a couple of boys more—and there was—well, he didn’t know whether he might make so bold, but—And here he looked inquiringly at the young gentleman with whom the three had been conversing.
“I trust, Mr Curtis, that General Dorrien will allow me to take part in this search,” said Eustace Ingelow, stepping forward—“I know this coast thoroughly, and can keep my head at any height, as these good fellows here will tell you,” he added, eagerly looking from one to the other.
The General was about stiffly to decline, but Mr Curtis interrupted quickly.
“We shall be only too glad, Eustace. We want all the hands and eyes we can get, I’m afraid, and I know what a fellow you are for risking your neck. Are you ready?” he went on, looking around. “Then the sooner we start the better.”
It was between one and two o’clock, and the day was cloudy and lowering. Not many hours of daylight would remain to them, for the evenings closed in fast at this time of year. Considerable excitement was rife in the fishing village as the party moved off, women and children standing about the doors talking volubly in their rude dialect. It was arranged that Eustace Ingelow, with Jem Pollock and one of the boys, should accompany General Dorrien along the top of the cliffs, while David Pollock and the other boy and the parson thoroughly searched the beach below, both divisions moving in concert. A couple of powerful telescopes, three coils of rope, of sufficient stoutness and length, with two strong crow-bars, constituted the equipment of the party; nor must we omit to mention a flask of brandy, which Jem Pollock privately hinted to Eustace, with a wink at the General, might be making the Squire a party to a bit of smuggling.
And Eustace himself was thinking, as they ascended the steep, turfy slopes, what a great piece of luck this was which had fallen in his way. What if he should be the fortunate finder of the missing man? In common decency the General could hardly give him the cold shoulder after rescuing his son; but, on the other hand, it might be—probably would be—only the poor fellow’s dead body that they would find. For an opinion had gained ground among the party that Hubert Dorrien had either fallen over the cliffs, in which case there would be very little chance for him, or that he had gone down on the beach and had been cut off by the tide, a contingency equally fatal, the only hope being that in the former event he might have fallen on to a ledge—for the cliffs were broken and rugged, and such projections abounded; or that in the latter he had gained some refuge whence he was unable subsequently to escape.
“Look over, Jem, lad, and see if you see nowt. There, on the ledge just below the footway,” bawled David Pollock from the beach, after intently scanning with his glass the most dangerous point of the face of Hadden’s Slide. A thin mist had begun to drive along the cliff, but a black object, not unlike the body of a man, might be discerned at the point indicated.
Jem obeyed, and, lying down, peered long and anxiously from the dizzy brink.
“It’s nowt!” he shouted in return. “Only a heap o’ grass or suchlike,” and the search went on.
“I fear we shall soon be overtaken by the darkness,” observed the General, moodily looking round. They had passed a queer little cottage in the hollow, and a woman came out to answer their enquiries, but could add nothing whatever to their knowledge. Another false alarm, too, had been raised by those on the beach.