Eric; Or, Little by Little

by F. W. Farrar

"We've been trying, sir, and a boat has just managed to start; but in a sea like that it's very dangerous, and it's so dark and gusty that I doubt it's no use, so I expect they'll put back."

The Doctor sighed deeply. "Don't alarm any other people," he said; "it will merely raise a crowd to no purpose. Here, George," he continued to the servant, "give me the lantern; I will go with this boy to the Stack; you follow us with ropes, and order a carriage from the King's Head. Take care to bring anything with you that seems likely to be useful."

Montagu and Dr. Rowlands again started, and with difficulty made their way through the storm to the shore opposite the Stack. Here they raised the lantern and shouted; but the wind was now screaming with such violence that they were not sure that they heard any answering shout. Their eyes, accustomed to the darkness, could just make out the huge black outline of the Stack rising from the yeast of boiling waves, and enveloped every moment in blinding sheets of spray. On the top of it Montagu half thought that he saw something, but he was not sure.

"Thank God, there is yet hope," said the Doctor, with difficulty making his young companion catch his words amid the uproar of the elements; "if they can but keep warm in their wet clothes, we may perhaps rescue them before morning."

Again he shouted to cheer them with his strong voice, and Montagu joined his clear ringing tones to the shout. This time they fancied that in one of the pauses of the wind they heard a faint cheer returned, was sound more welcome, and as they paced up and down they shouted at intervals, and held up the lantern, to show the boys that friends and help were near.

Eric heard them. When Montagu left, he had carried Russell to the highest point of the rock, and there, with gentle hands and soothing words, made him as comfortable as he could. He wrapped him in every piece of dry clothing he could find, and held him in his arms, heedless of the blood which covered him. Very faintly Russell thanked him, and pressed his hand; but he moaned in pain continually, and at last fainted away.

Meanwhile the wind rose higher, and the tide gained on the rocks, and the sacred darkness came down. At first Eric could think of nothing but storm and sea. Cold, and cruel, and remorseless, the sea beat up, drenching them to the skin continually with, its clammy spray; and the storm shrieked round them pitilessly, and flung about the wet hair on Eric's bare head, and forced him to plant himself firmly, lest the rage of the gusts should hurl them from their narrow resting-place. The darkness made everything more fearful, for his eyes could distinguish nothing but the gulfs of black water glistening here and there with hissing foam, and he shuddered as his ears caught the unearthly noises that came to him in the mingled scream of weltering tempest and plangent wave. It was fearful to be isolated on the black rent rock, and see the waves gaining on them higher, higher, higher, every moment and he was in ceaseless terror lest they should be swept away by the violence of the breakers. "At least," thought he, as he looked down and saw that the ledge on which they had been standing had long been covered with deep and agitated waves, "at least I have saved Edwin's life." And he bravely made up his mind to keep up heart and hope, and weather the comfortless night with Russell in his arms.

And then his thoughts turned to Russell, who was still unconscious; and stooping down he kissed fondly the pale white forehead of his friend. He felt then, how deeply he loved him, how much he owed him; and no mother could have nursed a child more tenderly than he did the fainting boy. Russell's head rested on his breast, and the soft hair, tangled with welling blood, stained his clothes. Eric feared that he would die, his fainting-fit continued so long, and from the helpless way in which one of his legs trailed on the ground he felt sure that he had received some dangerous hurt.

At last Russell stirred and groaned. "Where am I?" he said, and half opened his eyes; he started up frightened, and fell-back heavily. He saw only the darkness; felt only the fierce wind and salt mist; heard only the relentless yell of the blast. Memory had no time to wake, and he screamed and fainted once more.

Poor Eric knew not what to do but to shelter him to the best of his power, and when he showed any signs of consciousness again, he bent over him, and said, "Don't you remember, Edwin? We're quite safe. I'm with you, and Monty's gone for help."