In Swirling Waters
The boys looked at one another in awe.
Their ears still rang with Captain Royal's last dreadful cry as he went hurtling over the cliff toward the watery depths.
"He's gone!" gasped Chet. "I knew something like that would happen. He slipped on the rocks."
Frank, however, was already slipping and stumbling back down the path toward the beach.
"There's still a chance," he shouted to the others. "He may be alive yet. If we hurry we may be able to get him out of the water before he drowns. The tide's coming in, so he may be washed ashore."
It was a slim chance, he knew. Captain Royal had fallen from a great height and perhaps the impact of his collision with the water had rendered him unconscious. From the path, the boys could not see where the old man had struck the water, so they could not know if he had come to the surface as yet.
The boys scrambled down the path, almost risking their necks in the pellmell descent. Rocks and pebbles went skittering before them as they plunged toward the beach.
All their resentment against Captain Royal because he had hurled the rock at them and because he had threatened them, had vanished in their concern for his safety. They realized that he was not responsible for his actions and that his eccentricities were the fruits of a disordered mind. They had done their best to save him from going over the cliff. This was some consolation. But the very thought of such a horrible death made them shudder.
"He'll be battered to pieces on the rocks!" panted Joe.