The wind had been rising higher and higher since the previous day. These London inland people called it a hurricane, and gazed on the sea with an interest that partook of awe. It was indeed very rough—sailors might have said half a gale; but the boat from Folkestone had ventured out, and, after a long and difficult passage, was trying to make the harbour. On the pier, people unused to this could not stand without difficulty, and chose rather the safer watching parts on the plage. Some of the boys were gathered on the sands, near to that little yellow house, the Maison de Sauvetage—rather an ominous name to-day.
"I'll bet you five shillings that she gets in, and that I take my bath," said Dick Loftus, hot in dispute; for they had been telling him he could not attempt that dangerous sea to-day, and different opinions existed as to whether the steamer would or would not get in. "And here's the five shillings to deposit," added Dick, proud of having so much riches to display, a most unusual thing with him. "Come now, you, Onions; you needn't laugh like that."
Onions was laughing to show his ease. He had an important rôle to maintain, and the eyes of the world were upon him.
But for the white fleecy clouds dashing after each other across the blue sky, the day would have been particularly bright and clear. The waves of the receding tide were coming in with a high white froth, breaking ere they touched their extent of way, and lifting their foaming heads aloft. George Paradyne was talking to a man belonging to the "Société de Naufrage," and the rest were listening to the boy's pure French.
"You have not got the boat out to-day," he observed, alluding to the rescue boat that is always in close attendance during bathing hours.
"She's not needed," crustily returned the man, who seemed a crusty subject. "What bathers would venture into this sea?"
George Paradyne glanced at Dick, as much as to say, Hear that. But Dick chose to take no notice, and the society man walked away.
"If this wind does not go down the meeting will have to be put off," whispered Leek, in an undertone, to Bertie Loftus. "The charge might be blown off at a tangent, and take us seconds instead of you.
"Don't be fool enough to talk of it here, Onions," came the rebuking answer; and Bertie caught up a glass and looked at the boat. She was labouring hard; her two white funnels throwing themselves, as it seemed, from side to side, her nose pitching awfully.
But she made her way, and drew near the port at last. People changed their places to watch her in. Mr. Dick Loftus, in secret connivance with himself, was left alone, and he seized on the opportunity. "Danger in bathing to-day indeed!" contemptuously thought Dick. "I'll teach them better."