Springing from the raft, he swam out towards the captain. The officer was close to a spar, but his hand failed to clutch it, and he sank. Harry dived rapidly. His hand grasped the captain’s collar, and with an upward stroke he returned to the surface. He looked around. The spar was not an arm’s length from him. Placing the captain across it, he pushed it towards the raft. The captain was saved from immediate death. But what prospect had those poor fellows, on that small raft out on the stormy ocean, of being saved? No sail was in sight. One boat only had escaped destruction. She was already at some distance. Those in her did not perceive the raft. Already, probably, she was overloaded. Soon a sail was hoisted and she stood away to the westward. The saddest sight of all was to see the poor fellows clinging to the pieces of wreck one by one dropping off. The sun rose, the mist cleared away. Six men on the raft alone remained on the waste of waters.
Chapter Sixteen.
A New Claimant for Stanmore.
Colonel Everard lay on his bed propped up with pillows. The window was open. He gazed forth over the green lawn, the bright blue sea and the Isle of Wight smiling in the distance. Three persons were in the room. Near his head stood his faithful attendant and old companion-in-arms; on the other side was his sister. Tears were in her eyes, while Mabel stood near the foot of the bed with her hands clasped, gazing on that venerated countenance. The sand of life was ebbing fast, a few grains alone remained.
“Paul, we have fought together. We have served our country well when we had youth and strength,” whispered the old officer, holding the hand of his faithful attendant. “You don’t forget that day when our brave general fell. Ere he died he heard that the enemy were put to flight, the victory won. Sister, he died happy, and so do I; for I may say with all humbleness, I have fought the good fight. I have tried to do my duty, but I trust in One mighty to save.” Then returning to old recollections, “You remember that day, Paul; that battle, the most glorious of our many fields. And now, Paul, we shall never fight again. You must look after these two here, sister Ann and my sweet Mabel. They want a trustworthy protector. I never knew you to fail me, Paul.”
His voice as he spoke was sinking lower and lower. A few more words he spoke expressive of the Christian’s hope. Then his hands relaxed their grasp, and those who watched him knew that the noble old man was dead.
The colonel’s will was opened. By his express desire no funeral pomp attended him to the grave. Paul, with eight of his older tenants, simple cottagers, several of whom had been soldiers, bore his coffin.
Seldom, however, has a longer line of mourners attended a plume-bedecked hearse than than which followed on foot the remains of Colonel Everard. Not only did all the inhabitants of Lynderton join the procession, but vast numbers of persons from the surrounding districts came to show their respect to the memory of one who had so long dwelt among them, and whose many virtues had won their love.