‘What is it?’ He answered without turning, keeping his eyes fixed:
‘I say it’s a man swimmin’. Joe and Garge here say as it’s only a piece o’ wood or sea-wrack. But I know I’m right. That’s a man swimmin’, or my old eyes have lost their power!’ His words carried conviction; the seed of hope in her beating heart grew on the instant into certainty.
‘It is a man. I saw him swim off towards here when he had taken the rope on shore. Do not turn round. Keep your eyes on him so that you may not lose sight of him in the darkness!’ The old man chuckled.
‘This darkness! Hee! hee! There be no differ to me between light and dark. But I’ll watch him! It’s you, my lady! I shan’t turn round to do my reverence as you tell me to watch. But, poor soul, it’ll not be for long to watch. The Skyres will have him, sure enow!’
‘We can warn him!’ she said, ‘when he comes close enough. I have a trumpet here!’ He shook his head sorrowfully:
‘Ah! my lady, what trumpet could sound against that storm an’ from this height?’ Stephen’s heart sank. But there was still hope. If the swimmer’s ears could not be reached, his eyes might. Eagerly she looked back for the coming of the rocket-cart. Far off across the deep bay she could see its lamp sway as it passed over the rough ground; but alas! it would never arrive in time. With a note of despair in her voice she asked:
‘How long before he reaches the rocks?’ Still without turning the old man answered:
‘At the rate he’s going he will be in the sweep of the current through the rocks within three minutes. If he’s to be saved he must turn seaward ere the stream grips him.’
‘Would there be time to build a bonfire?’
‘No, no! my lady. The wood couldn’t catch in the time!’