“Don’t go any further, Harriet; there’s a fisherman beckoning to us. Turn back, Harriet; turn back!” Harriet turned quickly. She saw a man on the cliff gesticulating and waving his hand. She looked at Ralph. Ralph was still swimming close to her. The other girls had not even gone out of their depths. Robina, however, with her face white as death, was struggling into deep water.
“No, no!” cried Harriet. “Turn back, turn back, Robina! It’s all right—it really is. Don’t come any further, you’ll be drowned if you do!”
“Ralph, Ralph, Ralph!” pleaded Robina. “Come back to me, come back!”
The little boy looked at her and smiled.
“Don’t be frightened,” he said. “I is all right. I is just going as far as Harriet, and then I’ll swim back to you. It’s lovely in the water, it is so warm and—”
A tiny white curling wave came up to him at that moment as though it were a play-fellow and broke over him as though it were laughing at him, and carried him imperceptibly so far from Harriet that she could no longer reach out her hand to touch him. Oh, still of course he was quite safe. He was nowhere near the entrance to the cove, and even though there was another white wave coming on, he was safe, as safe could be. But why had all the waves in a moment, as it were, got little tiny white crests on them? and why was the sea not quite so blue? and why was there a wind which took the heat out of the water? Why had all these things happened? But of course there was not the slightest danger? Still, perhaps Harriet might as well keep near to Ralph. She wanted him to be in a little bit of danger. She wanted him to cry out to her, and then she wanted to catch him and bring him back, and she wanted the people on the shore to say: “Well done, Harriet! Well done, brave, brave girl! You have saved the little chap’s life!”
So she delayed, trifling just a minute, and now another play-fellow wave—a bigger and a rougher one than the first two, caught the gallant tiny swimmer, and turned him right over this time and suddenly filled his lungs with water. Ralph threw up his arms. There was a sharp scream from the girls on the shore. Harriet saw the fisherman flying down from the cliffs above, and, turning herself, swam as fast as ever she could in Ralph’s direction. But now she was about to test her own foolhardiness, for alas! poor little Ralph had got into the current—one of those terribly dangerous currents which have wrecked not only brave swimmers, but even boats at sea when they got within the neighbourhood of the treacherous Needles.
The little brown head bobbed one minute on the surface of the waves and then disappeared. Harriet gave a frantic cry. She swam after the boy, putting out all her strength. Her hand was stretched out, and when he reappeared, she caught him by his little bathing suit.
By this time, one of the fishermen had got into the water, and a minute or two later, both girl and boy were lying exhausted on the beach.
“You did a mighty silly thing, young folks—daring to go into the water on a day like this!” said the man. “Why, little master was just drownding!”