"'Tain't nuffin tu what dat bressed boy is suff'rin'," she sighed, wiping the cold drops off her cheeks; "'pears as ef dis ole heart 'ud split'n two, thinkin' ob it. O good Lord, bress de chile!—bress him,—bress him!—dat's all Hagar ken say."
It was a weary watching. As the war of the sea grew louder and the wind fiercer, the Culm fishermen gathered into a yet closer group, and looked with awed and sober faces in the fire. For all that these men followed the sea, and it was almost a native element to them, they seemed to have a great dread and awe of it. Trafford yet stood apart from them with his eyes looking into the dense night, and Hagar, all muffled in her great cloak, swayed slowly to and fro with her face hidden. Oh, the suspense and agony of those minutes!—the weary watching and waiting for—what?
It came at last. In the short space of silence between the bursting of two great waves, there rose a cry from out the great waste of darkness beyond their little length and breadth of light. Trafford started and sprang forward. The men around the fire were startled from their crouching positions by this shrill, sudden shout, and looked in one another's faces and—waited. But the cry was not repeated. Then Dirk said,—
"It wur the skipper, sure. O Lord, men! but I be feared the 'Gull' be on the rocks, yender."
The sweat stood in drops on his forehead, and he slowly clinched and unclinched his great brawny hands. Trafford heard his words, and a sudden faintness like death smote him. But it passed away, and in sudden frenzy and despair he rushed up to Dirk, exclaiming,—
"How do you know, man? How can you tell? There was only a cry!"
Before Dirk could answer, there rose, clear and distinct, that one solitary voice from out the darkness,—a fearful, appealing cry for aid from some human heart out there in the awful presence of death. And that thrilling cry was all. It never came again. Trafford beat his breast with agony. Then he turned upon the fishermen.
"Why do you stand here," he cried, furiously, "when they are perishing out there? My boy is there!—my boy that's done so much for you and yours! Will you let him drown without lifting a hand to save him?"
"It be no use to try," said the men, pointing to the surf; "boat's ud crack like a gull's shell out there."
"But try,—only try!" shouted Trafford, in an agonized tone. "If money will tempt you, you shall have all of mine! You shall have more than ever your eyes saw before! I will make you all rich!—only try,—only try!"