Sea Mew Abbey

by Florence Warden

The bay was the point the smugglers would make for, she felt sure; it was in this direction, then, that she must go. She dared not light her lantern, but had to trust to the faint light of the moon. The way was infinitely more difficult than she had expected: to scramble, to crawl, sometimes to leap from rock to rock would have made the path a hard one for anybody; to a girl with a crutch it was absolutely dangerous. Panting, bruised, breathless, she at last scrambled over the last rough stone and found, to her relief, that in the tiny bay there was a stretch of smooth land, part clay, part sand, which had gathered in this inlet at the foot of the cliff, and on which a short, coarse grass grew. This seemed a paradise to Freda after her exertion: she sank down and rested her limbs, which were trembling with fatigue.

After a few moments, however, her sense of relief and rest was broken by a sensation of horror, which seemed to creep up her tired limbs and settle like a pall upon her. The utter silence, which not even a sea-gull now broke; the great wall of rock stretching round her, like a giant arm pointing its finger out to sea; the solitude, and the piercing cold all united to impress the girl with a dread of what she might be going to see and hear. With a little sobbing cry she shivered and shut out the scene by burying her face in her hands.

Suddenly a faint sound caused her to start up; it was the splash of oars in the water. There was a fringe of rock between the smooth land and the sea, under cover of which Freda ran, stumbling as she went, in the direction of the rough natural pier. From this she thought she would be able to get a clear view of all that went on by sea or by land. But on nearer approach this natural pier proved to be much more difficult of access than she had supposed; for it consisted of a huge rock, flattened on the top, rising so high out of the water that it would need a climb to get upon it. Still Freda resolved to try to overcome the difficulty. At this point she suddenly came in full view of the approaching boat, which was making straight for the beach. In another moment she had begun the climb. She had scarcely got her head above the level of the top of the rock, when she caught sight of a man crouching down on the smooth wave-worn surface, watching the approach of the boat with eagerness which betrayed itself in his very attitude. It was John Thurley.

Startled by the sight, Freda lost the footing she had obtained on the flaky, rotten side of the rock, and slipping back a few steps, found that she had all her work to do over again.

But she was quicker this time, her experience having stood her in good stead. In a very few moments she had won back the lost ground, and again glanced up at the crouching figure. She had scarcely done so when she saw, and yet hardly believed that she saw, a second figure crossing the smooth surface of the rock in the direction of the first, crossing stealthily, with the cat-like tread she knew so well.

It was the man who had said he would “be on the watch.”

She wanted to cry out, she tried to cry out, but only a hoarse rattle came forth from her parched throat. She knew what was going to happen, though she saw no weapon in the rascal’s hand; and the knowledge paralysed her. Before she could draw breath the blow had fallen: with a horrible cry John Thurley sprang up with a backward step, turned, staggered, and fell in a dark heap on the rock at his assailant’s feet.

Freda’s voice had come back now; but it was too late. She stifled back her cries, got up, by digging heels and clawing fingers, somehow, anyhow, on to the top of the rock, and skimming along the surface, lame as she was, like a bird, came up with the man who had threatened her that evening. He started, looking up at her with blood-shot, evil eyes, as she laid her hand upon his arm.

“Hands off, missus,” said he roughly, assuming more coarseness of accent than usual.

“No,” answered the girl fiercely, as she fastened her fingers with a firmer grip on his arm, “you have exceeded your orders to-night, and now you’ve got to obey mine. You have to help me carry that man you have hurt into the house, into the Abbey.”