From under pieces of plank and broken cabin furniture he was able at last to disentangle the form of a lady. She too was encased in a life-preserver, which in her case too had failed to save her life. The cruel rocks and breakers had made sure of that. Her head and face especially showed contusions and bruises of the most dreadful description, and there was a distortion of the features, as though her last thought had been one of agony, in striking contrast to the calm which had settled on the face of her companion. The arms too were stretched out in an intensity of purpose that death had been unable to paralyze, and the fingers were clenched on a bit of a chain composed of coins connected by knotted links of gold. Could it be that the parting of this chain, and the severance from what it held, was the last agonizing idea which had passed through the poor creature's mind?
As Roderick gazed, a feeble wail hard by gave a new turn to his musings. Not many steps away, but where the sand sloped inwards to the protected waters of the bay, he descried a bundle of clothing, and while he looked it seemed to move, and again the wail was heard. Taking it up he found the bundle to be a tiny infant, warmly wrapped up in many shawls and wound in a life-preserver. The poor drowned mother had probably given her last care to make the little one as safe as she could, and by a miracle she had succeeded. The lightness and smallness of the tiny bundle had secured its safety. While heavier bodies were being hurled and rolled among rocks and stones on the beach, this slight thing had been caught up on the crest of a surge and flung beyond the rocks and boulders margining the sea, into the protected waters of the inner bay, where it would float in comparative safety till, on the subsidence of the tide, it stranded on the shore.
Roderick took it up and undid the swathings, that it might freely use its limbs. At once the infant ceased its wailing; it stretched its little arms, and, looking into his face, it smiled. Who that is human, not to say humane, could resist the appeal?--the flattery of being approved by a pure fresh soul, all untarnished by the world's guile, and so lately come from heaven!
"The baby smiled, and twined its fingers in his
whisker-ends." Page 19.
Roderick was enthralled at once. 'You poor wee darling,' he said, 'we cannot leave you here alone, waiting till other help finds you; you must come with me!'
The baby smiled again, and twined its fingers in his whisker ends. Roderick wrapped it again in its shawls, remounted the pony, and proceeded on his way.
He could not but look back regretfully at the poor dead mother, whom he seemed to be separating from her child; but there was nothing he could do for her without assistance, and that he must go miles to seek, and he knew it would arrive equally soon without his intervention.
He passed a good deal more wreckage as he went, but nothing that had life, nor any more bodies of the drowned. Leaving the shore, he came in time to Effick Bridge. It had withstood the spate, and though badly shaken, was still available for crossing the stream. The waters had subsided over the flooded meadows, and after crossing these he began to ascend the hill. It was a tedious task; the soil was washed away in places, and in others stones had rolled from above, among which he had to pick his way carefully, lest a jolt should disturb his fragile burden.
The morning coach for Inverlyon reached the brow of the hill, coming down, while he was still wending upwards. It stopped there, and its passengers were required to alight, and make their way downward on foot, while the driver, with all precaution, guided his team and the empty vehicle over the encumbered track. The passengers included a parishioner or two of the minister's, who by and by encountered him on their descent, and greeted him effusively. His response, however, was absent and constrained, he was wholly disinclined to stand still in the middle of the tedious ascent, or engage in the desultory gossip so dear to his rustic friends. In truth, he was worn out. His tempestuous journey over-night, the early start without breakfast, the sad spectacle of death which he had beheld, and doubts how best to do his duty to his helpless charge, had thrown him into a melancholy and preoccupied mood, and deprived him of all power to enter into indifferent chat. He made no attempt, therefore, to rein up the 'pownie,' and that canny beast went tranquilly forward, picking his steps as seemed best among the sods and heather tufts by the side of the road.