The sun was just up, his beams gilded the crests of the leaping waves, and the spray danced up, white and gay, round the tall rocks, whose shadow was reflected in deep green, broken by the ever-moving swell. The Shag and its attendant rocks, and the broken vessel, were bathed in the clear morning light; the sky was of a beautiful blue, with magnificent masses of dark cloud, the edges, where touched by the sunbeams, of a pearly white; and across the bay, tracing behind them glittering streams of light, came up the two boats with their freight of rescued lives. Martin’s boat was the first to touch the landing-place.
‘All saved,’ he said; ‘all owing to him,’ pointing back to Sir Guy.
There was no time for questions; the wan, drenched sailors had to be helped on shore, and the boat hauled up out of the way. In the meantime, Guy, as he steered in past the quay, smiled and nodded to Mr. Ashford and Markham, and renewed the call, ‘All safe!’ Mr. Ashford thought that he had never seen anything brighter than his face—the eyes radiant in the morning sun, the damp hair hanging round it, and life, energy, and promptitude in every feature and movement.
The boat came in, the sailors were assisted out, partly by their rescuers, partly by the spectators. Guy stood up, and, with one foot on the seat, supported on his knee and against his arm a little boy, round whom his great-coat was wrapped.
‘Here, Jem!’ he shouted, to his rejected volunteer, who had been very active in bringing in the boat, ‘here’s something for you to do. This poor little fellow has got a broken arm. Will you ask your mother to take him in? She’s the best nurse in the parish. And send up for Mr. Gregson.’
Jem received the boy as tenderly as he was given; and, with one bound, Guy was by the side of his two friends. Mr. Ashford shook hands with heartfelt gratulation; Markham exclaimed,—
‘There, Sir Guy, after the old fashion! Never was man so mad in this world! I’ve done talking! You’ll never be content till you have got your death. As if no one could do anything without you.’
‘Was it you who carried out the line on the rock?’ said Mr. Ashford.
‘Ben Robinson and I. I had often been there, after sea anemones and weeds, and I had a rope round me, so don’t be angry, Markham.’
‘I have no more to say,’ answered Markham, almost surly. ‘I might as well talk to a sea-gull at once. As if you had any right to throw away your life!’