“We’ve just got him in here, Sir. I hope! I hope! And here’s the doctor.”
The house surgeon, who, of course, knew the Rector of Vale Leston, met him with, “Best see him before we touch him, it will set his mind at rest—You must be prepared, Sir—No, better not you, Mrs. Grinstead.”
Clement followed in silence, leaving Geraldine to the care of the matron. All he was allowed to see was a ghastly, death-like face and form, covered with rugs, lying prostrate on a mattress; but as he came in, at the sound of his step, there was a quiver of recognition, the eyes opened and looked up, the lips moved, and as Clement bent down with a kiss, there was a faint sound gasped out, “Telegraph to Clipstone.”
“I will, I will at once.”
“It was noble!” Then was added, “She gave herself for the Bishop, for me.” Then the eyes closed, and unconsciousness seemed to prevail. Some one came and put Clement aside, saying—
“Go now, Sir; you shall hear!”
Clement, who thought it might be death, would have stayed at hand; but he was turned away, and could only murmur an inarticulate blessing and prayer, as he meant to fulfil the earnest desire that was thought to have been conned over and over again by Bernard, as these half sentences recurred again and again in semi-consciousness. His telegram despatched, Clement returned to his sister, to hear from the two masters all they had to tell. Captain Miller, of the Afra, had slight hurts, which had been looked to before he should take the train for London; and Blaine had waited to tell his story before pursuing his voyage to Bristol, both, indeed, to hear the report of the patient, and likewise to collect the news of the few who had been landed at Corncastle, to the great relief of Captain Miller; but of the first boat there were no tidings, and Blaine thought there was little probability that it had not sunk or been dashed against the crags of the savage coast.
Captain Miller’s account was, that not long after leaving the Mersey, there had set in an impenetrable fog, lasting for a night and a day. There was perhaps some confusion as to charts, and the scarcely visible lights upon the Maidens. At any rate, the Afra had suddenly struck on a reef, and, shifting at once, had been hopelessly rent, so as to leave no hope save in the boats. Every one seemed to have behaved with the resolute fortitude and unselfishness generally shown by English and Americans in the like circumstances. The sea was not in a dangerous state, and there was a steady east wind, so that the boats were lowered without much difficulty, and most of the women disposed of in the first.
Before the second could be put off however, the water had reached the fires; there was a violent lurch, the ship had heeled completely over, washing many overboard, and of course causing a great confusion among those who had been steady before, and making the deck almost perpendicular. The captain, however, succeeded in lowering another boat, and putting into it, as he trusted, the few remaining women, the Bishop, and most of the men. This was, of course, that which had safely reached Corncastle, and of which he only now heard. The last boat was so overcrowded that he, with three of his crew, had thought it best to remain for the almost desperate chance of being picked up before they sank.
He had supposed Mr. Underwood had been washed overboard in the heeling over of the ship, and that his sister had been put into the first boat; but presently he heard a call.