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A TERRIBLE NIGHT
A
Although there had been plenty of wind, and a heavy sea running for the greater part of the winter, Pat had not seen what Jim called a "real storm" until Christmas had been several weeks old, and January had nearly run its course. The child called any rough bout of windy weather a storm, and did not quite believe that Jim could be right in declaring that it was "only a capful of wind," or that it was "only half a gale, after all." But there came one night late on in January when he began to understand very well what Jim had meant, and to realise that he had not really understood before what a real winter storm could be like.
All day there had been a strange new sound in the moaning and the shrieking of the wind.His father had looked often at the glass, and had remarked almost every time he did so that "they were going to get it this time, and no mistake." Jim had been so busy up aloft that Pat had hardly seen him since breakfast-time; and even the sea-gull seemed to partake in the general uneasiness, for he flapped his wings, and screamed and cried in a way that was quite unusual for him; and when Jim came downstairs about dinner-time, he walked out to the side of the cage where the child stood watching his favourite, and said—
"I'd bring him indoors to-night, Pat. I'd not answer for it but that the water will be over here before morning. Anyway, there's be sheets of spray flying about enough to drown the bird, if he's left where he is."
Pat looked up wonderingly, for though one end of the great caged-in place ran down towards the lower rocks, the upper end was against the lighthouse itself, and it seemed impossible to the child that the waves should ever reach as high as that. He had lived seven or eight months in his new home by this time, and had never seen the sea as high as that yet. But of course Jim must know best.
"I'll bring him in," he answered readily. "Mother won't mind if you tell me to, and he does come in sometimes. He hardly ever pecks at anybody now. See how tame he is when I go to take him!"
Pat was rather proud of the conquest he had made of the bird, and certainly the wild creature made no resistance to being lifted by his little master and carried within doors. Eileen looked up as Pat brought the captive in with him.
"Poor thing! so he wants shelter to-night, does he! Put him there in that bit of a cupboard, Pat dear, with a wire netting in front of him to keep him from cluttering up my clean kitchen. There, he can see you now, and you can see him. What a pretty bird he's growing! I'm sure he's welcome to a place within doors. God help all those poor souls who will be out at sea to-night!"
The woman spoke with so much earnestness and feeling, that Pat looked up in her face with wide-open, questioning eyes.
"What makes you say that, mother? Is it going to be what Jim would call a real big storm? I rather wanted to see one. Is itnaughty to feel so? I won't, if it is; but I thought a lighthouse boy ought to know what a real storm was like. Are we going to have one to-night, mother?"
"I fear we are, my child. And terrible it will be for those who are afloat, exposed to the mercy of the wind and the waves. We must pray to God for them, my little son; for in times like these only God can help them, and perhaps there are some in peril to-night, who will never pray for themselves—though in the hour of danger it is wonderful how the human heart turns to the God of heaven, however hard at any other time."
Pat's eyes were open wide, and a new look had crept into them.
"Mother, shall we pray now?—you and I together?" he asked; and Eileen took his little hand in hers, and knelt down then and there on the kitchen floor, praying aloud in very simple words for those in peril on the deep that night, that God would be with them in every danger, and bring them safe at last to the haven whither they would be. And Pat shut his eyes tight, and clasped his hands, and said "Amen" softly, several times, adding, ashis mother ceased, "And if there are any little boys like me, please keep them quite safe, dear Lord Jesus, and bring them safe back to their mothers again."
And then, when the child opened his eyes, and rose from his knees, he saw that Jim had crept in, all unknown to them, and that he was kneeling, too, his head down-bent, and a tear slowly trickling down his weather-beaten face. Pat had never seen him on his knees before. He had never been able to get Jim to tell him whether he ever said his prayers at all. But he was sure now that he did, and he ran across to him before he had had time to rise to his feet, and throwing his arms about his neck, he cried out—
"Now we have all prayed to God together, so I'msureHe'll hear us. He likes there to be two or three gathered together—it says so, somewhere in the Bible. I shan't be so unhappy about the poor people in the ships now, because we've asked God to take care of them, and He always hears what we say—doesn't He, mother?"
"Yes, dear, He always hears," answered Eileen, with a smile and a sigh. "But He doesnot always answer us quite in the way we would have."
"But, then, He knows best," said Pat, with sudden thoughtfulness. "So if He does it differently from what we meant, we needn't mind, need we? You don't always do just what I want, mother dear; but afterwards I always know you decided best. It's like that with God and us, I suppose."
Eileen stooped with a tear in her eye to kiss the child, and Jim went out to help Nat to haul up the boat, and place it in the greatest security the rock offered, to leeward of the wind, well braced at both ends to keep it steady. Pat watched these operations with great interest.
"But why do you take it out of the water?" he asked. "I should have thought you'd want it there in case any ship in distress should go by. You might want to send a boat out to them, and if it was up here you wouldn't be able to get it out at all quickly."
"No boat could live in such a sea as we'll have to-night, sonny," answered the father gravely. "Nothing but a life-boat, anyhow, and then it could not be launched here amongstthese rocks. Look at those waves, now. Do you think there would be any putting out to sea amongst such rollers as those? No, my little son. Please God we'll keep our light burning brightly—which is the duty given us to do—and that will help the big ships to keep clear of this cruel reef, where the best of them would be dashed to pieces. But more than that we cannot do, and may God grant that no vessel comes nigh these rocks to-night. None will, unless she be disabled; but, if she did, we could do almost nothing to help her. God alone could direct her course that she should not be dashed in pieces on this treacherous coast."
So Pat went indoors, looking very grave, and feeling sobered by the shadow of peril resting upon some lives; and already the dark lowering clouds seemed to be driving faster and faster along the sky, and the shrieking of the wind grew ever angrier and angrier as the daylight waned.
Bang! bang! bang! It was only the waves flinging themselves in wild fury against the rocks upon which the lighthouse was built, but Pat felt the tower shudder beneath the shock,and looked into his mother's face as though to ask if they themselves were in any danger. Her face was grave and a little pale, but there was no personal fear in her steady eyes as she met the child's look, and answered it by a thoughtful smile.
"The walls of our home have stood through many a winter's storm, Pat. It's not ourselves we need fear for to-night, but for those at sea, in disabled vessels; and I fear me there will be many such upon a night like this. Hark at the wind! It is rising every moment!"
It was indeed, and Pat soon became too excited to do anything but wander up and down the stairs, watching the wild strife of the wind and waves, first from one place and then from another, not knowing whence the best view was obtained. He might not open the door upon the gallery to go out there, as he would have liked. Jim told him he would not be able to stand there in such a night; and that the air rushing and sweeping in would be bad for the lamp; and to-night, above all nights, she must be studied and thought of. Many, many lives might depend upon her light, and she was the object of the most scrupulouscare on the part of both the men in charge of her.
"It seems as if she was trying to shine as bright as possible," said the child, with fond pride, as he looked up into the great ball of white flame above him. "Do you think she knows that there is a storm to-night, Jim, and is trying to throw the light as far as ever it will go?"
"I shouldn't wonder," answered Jim. "Her knows a power of things by this time, her does;" but he spoke absently, as though his thoughts were far away, and he kept moving across to one of the small windows which looked out over the wild tossing sea, as though to make sure that there was no indication of the presence of any vessel in distress on the horizon. Pat grew nervous at the silence of the man, and the furious noises of the raging storm without, and crept downstairs to his mother again.
By this time it was getting very dark. The tide was rising—a high spring tide—and the waves seemed to come thundering against the very walls of the lighthouse itself, making them shake to their foundations. Pat often lookedanxiously into his father's face to know what he thought about it; but he knew the tower was safe, and was only thinking of the perils of others, like his wife.
"It is going to be a fearful night," he said, as he rose from the tea-table. "There will be no sleep for either of us to-night, wife. We must both watch whilst the gale blows like this. I'll send Jim down now to get a bite and sup, and then he can join me up aloft. You and the child can go to bed when you will. Only leave us a good fire here, and something hot to take if we get chilled and wet."
"I shall not go to bed, Nat," answered Eileen. "I could not sleep, and I shall keep my vigil for those poor souls who are in deadly peril to-night. There be times when it seems heartless to lie down and sleep. If we were in fearful danger ourselves, we should like to know that there were those ashore praying for us, even though they knew not our names."
Nat kissed his wife and child, and his weather-beaten face looked tender.
"Well, well, my lass, please yourself, please yourself. It will make the fireside brighter for a man to come to if you are there to-night."
"Mother," said Pat, coming up and laying a small hand on her knee, "may I stay with you? May I keep a vigil, too? I know I could not sleep in my bed with all this noise of wind and waves. Please let me stop up too."
"Very well, my child; until you grow sleepy you may. We will watch together, and be ready to help the men, if help is needed. In such a storm as this one never knows what will befall. We will be ready whatever betide."
Jim came down to his tea next, and Pat eagerly asked him whether he had ever known such a storm before. He was surprised that Jim was not more filled with wonder at it than he was; but supposed that he had grown used to such tempests, as indeed was the case, for no winter ever went by without some such storm as the present one.
When mother and child were together again, Pat occupied himself for a while in feeding and playing with his bird, who was a good deal disturbed by his new surroundings, but was content to be coaxed and quieted by his little master's hand and voice. By-and-byhe retired to the back of the cupboard where it was dark, and seemed to settle himself down for sleep. By this time the tea-things had been washed up, and the room made bright and tidy. There was little more to do that night, save to see that there was food and something hot for the watchers at intervals, when they should be able to come down for it; and at Pat's suggestion his mother got out her needlework, whilst Pat brought out the big Bible from which his father generally read a chapter aloud every day, and laying it on the table, drew his high chair up to it, and began turning over the leaves to find all the places where it told of the sea, and especially of any storms; which passages he then read aloud to his mother, and they discussed them afterwards together to the sound of the stormy voices from without, which made a fitting accompaniment.
As the night wore on the gale seemed rather to rise than fall. There were times when the child's voice could not be heard for the wild shrieking of the wind without. Now and again Pat would creep up the stairs to the lamp house, and report to his mother, with anawed face, that the spray was dashing right over the top of the tower. Sometimes one or other of the men would come down to sit awhile by the fire, and refresh himself with the good cheer Eileen had ready. Now and again Pat would doze off into a little light sleep, leaning against his mother's knee. But he would not hear of going to bed, and, indeed, there was no chance of continuous sleep, even for those used to the sounds of the winds and waters; for it was one continual battle without of raging strife, and Pat never slept long without waking up with a start at some crash of water against the wall, or some wilder shriek of the furious gale sweeping round the tower.
But, hitherto, there had been no sight or sound of human peril or distress. Each time that a watcher had come down, Eileen had anxiously asked if he had seen any vessel in peril, or had heard any signals of distress, and each time the answer had been that nothing of the kind had been seen or heard. Eileen breathed a sigh of thankfulness each time the report was made, and as the night wore away, and the storm did not seem to be increasing, she began to try and coax Pat to be put tobed, for he was growing very sleepy at last, and had kept his vigil very bravely and well.
Her persuasion seemed just about to triumph over the child's reluctance to own himself sleepy, when a new sound suddenly smote upon their ears, causing Eileen's hand suddenly to fall to her side, whilst her face put on a look of white dismay and terror. For a moment she stood as rigidly as though she had been turned into stone, and Pat woke up wide in his surprise, for he had not understood the sound he had heard, and could not account for the change which had come over his mother. And then he heard again the faint new sound—only a distant report—the sound as of a gun.
"What is it, mother?" he asked in his perplexity.
"God help them—that is the signal gun. That is a ship in distress! There it is again! Oh, dear Lord Jesus, be with those poor souls in their hour of peril, 'for vain is the help of man!'"
Pat was wide awake now. His heart was beating fast and hard. Something of his mother's awe had communicated itself to him;but inaction was not possible in this time of excitement. He must be doing something, and without another word or question he darted up the stairs to go and find his father and Jim, and ask them what they knew about this ship in distress.
They were both at a look-out hole. His father had the telescope, and Jim was shading his eyes with his hand, and gazing out into the night too intently to be aware of the presence of the child. The moon was full, and in spite of the wrack of clouds in the sky, the night was not wholly dark, and from time to time a shaft of light would stream out upon one portion of the sea or another, showing to the watchers something of the dismasted vessel beating helplessly in the trough of the raging sea.
"The Lord help her, for she cannot help herself!" exclaimed Nat, as he handed the glass to Jim. "She's a fine vessel—a steamer; but her fires are out—may be her screw is broken—and the mast is snapped clean in half. It may be they will reach the lee of yon promontory before they are beaten to pieces. That is what they are making for plainly, andthe vessel is well handled. But what can any helmsman do with such a crippled log? There is another gun! Would God we could help them, poor souls. But there is nothing we can do, and she is a good mile from the rocks, thank Heaven! If she can but weather it out for another half-hour, and keep the course she is making, she may get in safely yet. Or the life-boat may see her, and take her passengers ashore. But 'tis a fearful thing to see her labouring like that in such a sea. Every wave seems as though it would swallow her up!"
"Daddy, let me see," pleaded Pat, and Jim adjusted the telescope so that the child could see the great disabled vessel lying rolling helplessly in the trough of the angry water, driven along almost at the mercy of the winds and waves, yet gallantly striving to keep such a course as should give her her only chance of safety. Pat was not seaman enough to estimate her chances of escape, and cried out every moment that she must sink.
Jim was afraid rather she would be driven in and dashed upon the rocks; but that she was under able management both men saw; and when Nat carried the child down to his mother,and saw Eileen's white face and straining eyes, he was able to kiss her, and place the boy in her arms, saying, "Please God, they will weather it yet; but 'tis a fearful thing to see. They have escaped being driven on this reef; and if they can get round the next point, they may find shelter from the gale. Pray for them, my lass, for it is all we may do. We will watch while you pray, and may be they will be safe yet!"
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JIM'S EXPLOIT
I
"It's a little boy! It's a little boy! Daddy! Oh, mother, look! look! I see him quite plain! It's a little boy. Oh, save him! save him!"
Pat's shrill little voice, sharpened by fear and pity, rang high through the noise of wind and waves. The cold dawn was breaking over the Lone Rock, and its four inmates were standing together at the base of the lighthouse with their eyes eagerly fixed upon the vast sheet of heaving and tossing water. The wind had abated its fury somewhat during the past hours, but the sea was still raging like a wild thing round the sunken reef. The tide, however, had fallen, and there was safe foothold for the little group anxiously gathered together. For some minutesthey had all been gazing in the same direction—had been looking towards an object floating in the water, drifting nearer and nearer to them; and now the child's shrill cry broke the silence, and spoke the words the men had not dared to do, though for some moments they, too, had known what it was, lashed to a floating spar, that was being drifted down upon the Lone Rock.
"It's a little boy! It's a little boy!" cried Pat, in an agony of sorrow and fear. "Oh, father! Oh, Jim! Will he be killed? Will he be killed? Oh, don't let him be killed! Don't let the waves dash him on the rocks! Oh, what can we do? What can we do?"
Eileen covered her eyes with her hand as though to shut out the sight of the thing that seemed as though it must happen. It would be too frightful to see that little frame dashed in pieces before their eyes, even though life might be already extinct. Pat was clinging to her dress in an agony. Nat's voice shook as he made reply to his child—
"I'm afraid he's dead already, Pat. He may have been hours in the water with the waves dashing over him. The life is soon beaten outof a strong man like that. A little child could scarce live half-an-hour."
"Oh, save him! save him!" cried the child, his voice rising almost to a shriek. "Oh, I don't believe he's dead! See, his head is quite out of the water—only when the waves wash over it. I don't believe he's dead. Oh, don't let him be killed! Save him! save him!"
Nat shook his head sadly. He gave an expressive glance at his wife, and she gathered her own child in her arms and sank upon her knees, weeping and mingling prayers and supplications with her tears. Nat stood perfectly still and rigid, his gaze fixed upon the spar which carried the body of the child—whether living or dead none could tell—towards those cruel rocks which (if dashed upon them) would surely tear it in pieces before their very eyes. It was a moment that none of those ever forgot who had taken part in it. And only some minutes later did they observe that Jim had moved, and was no longer with them.
Pat was the first to note this. He raised his white, tear-stained face from his mother's shoulder, and looking round quickly, askedwith sudden eagerness, as though some new idea had struck him—
"Where is Jim?"
That made them all look round, and then they all saw that Jim had gone within doors, and that he was now issuing forth with a life-belt round him, to which was attached a long coil of strong rope. He had taken off his coat, his boots, and leggings, and had nothing on but his shirt and trousers, which last was rolled up to the knee. He looked a very strong, muscular fellow as he stood rolling up his shirt sleeves, his face set in lines of the most dogged and resolute determination. Pat gave a little shriek, and rushed forward towards him.
"Jim! Jim! what are you going to do?"
Nat and Eileen had also come forward, and Nat laid his hand on his assistant's shoulder—
"Thou art a brave fellow, Jim," he said (when Nat was moved in spirit he had a way of resorting to thee and thou which he had heard as a child from his Quaker mother), "but thou must not throw away thy life. It is certain death to try and live in yon sea, and thou hast thy duties here to think of. Thou must think of that, too, my good comrade."
"I have thought of it," said Jim, "but yet I must go. I know what I am doing. Yon spar will not be washed upon the reef; it will be carried just beyond round the point where we stand. I shall spring off yonder into deep water as it is swept by and seize it, and you will pull me in—for with that burden in my arms I cannot swim. I have not lived all the years on Lone Rock not to know what may and may not be done. It will not be certain death——" He stopped suddenly short. He could not say that it might not be death, and already he had spoken more freely than he had been known to do to any one but the child.
Pat rushed up to Jim, and flung his arms round his knees. His face was all in a glow of loving admiration and enthusiasm.
"Jim! Jim! Are you going to save the little boy? Oh, Jim, can you bring him safe home to us? Oh, Jim, how brave and good you are! Oh, how I do love you! If I were a man I would go with you, I would, indeed!"
Then Jim did a very strange thing—strange at least for him—for he lifted the child up in his arms and kissed him; and Jim had never kissed Pat in his life before. When he heldPat thus he could speak in his ear words that nobody could hear except the two themselves.
"Pat," he said, and his voice was rather husky, "it seems just as though the Lord Jesus had told me to trust myself to the waves—to come out to Him, in a manner of speaking, and not to be afraid of the boisterous waves or the wind. I don't expect to be able to walk on the water; but it seems like as though He would be there to help me. I've been wanting to find something to do for Him all these weeks. It seems like as though He said to me just now, 'Go and do that, Jim. It's one of My lambs that is in peril.' So I'm going. And if I don't come back alive, don't you fret, little master. It's all right. You know what you said yourself you would like to do if you had the chance when you were a man—just to lay down your life—as He did."
Pat's tears were running down his cheeks, but he could not try to stay Jim after that, though he realised then that the peril of the rescue would be great. The man put him gently down, and pushed him towards his mother, who took him within her sheltering arms; and then he made his way with Natcautiously to the very edge of the rocks towards the edge of that great basin—to leeward as it chanced to-night—of the lighthouse, where the water was comparatively calm for a few yards, and where if he sprang in he would find depth to swim without being immediately caught up and hurled backwards by the fury of the sea.
Nat saw that his strong and skilled comrade had just a chance of doing what he meditated, and yet escaping with his own life, and he would not seek to hold him back. Every seaman, at one time, or another, risks his life for his fellow-men, and Nat had not been backward in deeds of bravery in his own time. But as keeper of the lighthouse now, and with a wife and child to think for, he could not have taken his life in his hand to-night as Jim purposed to do. Still, he could aid and assist his comrade by his skill and strength, and judicious management of the rope; and he knew that Jim's life, when once he should have taken the plunge, would depend entirely upon the strength and foresight and management which he should show. He beckoned his wife to his side, for she was a strong woman, and had grown up amongstscenes of this sort. Eileen understood him in a moment, and came and stood beside him with her hand upon the ropes, ready to second his every effort, and do her share in the work of rescue. Pat stood beside his mother, his little face calm and quiet now, his eyes fixed full upon Jim. There was something in the expression upon all those faces that a painter would have loved to transfer to canvas—a look of lofty courage, of self-renunciation and purpose. Not a word more was spoken; the time for action had come, and all were nerving themselves for it.
Although all this takes time to tell, only a few minutes had passed since Pat's first cry before they were all standing here at the edge of the basin, where the boat in the summer months rode at anchor. The sea was sweeping wildly past just outside this small basin, and the great waves were bringing nearer with every heave the floating spar, upon which all eyes were bent. Even Pat now understood exactly what Jim meant to do. It would have been madness for him to try and stem the force of the waves—to attempt to swim out against them. But he might launch himself into the boiling sea, and swim with them just as theywere carrying their burden past the lighthouse, and then if he could once grasp it, the united strength of those upon the rocks might be sufficient to haul the double burden back to shore. Nat had already made fast the end of the rope to a great pinnacle of rock, which rose up like a gigantic needle at the edge of the basin. But all knew that ropes had been known to break beneath the strain which would come upon this one, that the strands might be cut where it was tied to the rock; and there was just the possibility that those on shore might be pulled into the boiling gulf before Jim and his burden could be dragged ashore. Nat realised this possibility, and his face was very set and grave; for he had the lighthouse to think for as well as his wife and child; and he knew that many, many lives might depend upon that sleepless light. The keeper of the lamp must not desert his post, come what might. It would be a fearfully hard choice if it had to be made; but Nat did his duty. If it came to be a question between Jim's life and that of his own duty, Jim must go. To let himself be dragged into the vortex would not save the life of his comrade, but itmight cost the lives of tens and even hundreds of fellow-men. Nat's face was set and stern as all this flashed through his mind, but his resolution did not waver.
"It's coming! it's coming!" cried Pat, breaking the strained silence with a sudden cry, and he pointed with his little hand towards the dark fleeting mass on the water, which was very near to them now. In the grey, but steadily increasing, daylight they could see the face of the little child—the damp hair floating round it, the expression calm and tranquil, as though the little one was sleeping in his mother's arms. They could see, too, that there was a great life-buoy about the child, so that it's head had been kept well above the water. It was just possible that life might be restored. Sailors have wonderful experiences of such returns to life after long immersion in the water. Pat could not believe the little boy was dead, and with breathless eagerness he watched Jim quietly slip into the water, and strike out in strong vigorous strokes for the floating spar. Eileen put her hands before her eyes for one moment at the plunge, and then stood up calm and strong.
"God help him! God be with him!" she murmured softly under her breath, and Nat said "Amen" in deep steady tones.
"Wife," he said, after a moment's pause, "remember that the lighthouse is now thy charge and mine. That must be our first duty. We two are its keepers now. God grant we have not to choose between it and yon brave fellow; but if it be His will that it be so, we must remember our duty to those who placed us here, and to those who sail on the sea, and look to be guided by yon light."
She understood him in a moment, and nipped his hand.
"Pray God it come not to that," she said. "We are both very strong."
And then they held their breath to watch the bold swimmer, who was already beyond the shelter of the rocks, exposed to the full play of the sweeping billows, rising and falling like a cork on the face of the mighty deep, but with every strong stroke approaching more near to the object he had started to seek.
Nat was paying out the rope with a look of strained anxiety on his face. Suppose it should not prove long enough! Coil after coil waspayed out, and still Jim had not quite come up with the floating spar. Would there be enough? Heaven send he reach it soon!
A shout from the child. Pat had clambered a little way above them to get a better view. Now came a wild hurrah.
"He's got him! He's got him! Oh, brave Jim! Strong Jim! Daddy, he's got him. He's seized him fast. Pull him in! Pull him in quick! Oh, his head keeps going under! He can't help himself now! He keeps his arms fast round the little boy. He's doing something; I can't quite see what! Oh, I see now.... He's cut the rope that ties him to the spar! I can see it floating away by itself. But he's got the little boy! He's got him fast! Oh, daddy, be quick! be quick! Don't let Jim drown! His head does go under so often! Make haste and pull him out! Oh, do make haste! The waves are so big and fierce, and wash over them so often. He always keeps the little boy top; but he keeps going under himself so much. Oh, dear, brave Jim! How I do love you. Oh, daddy, that wave! There was something floating just under the water. It hit Jim; I'm sure it did! Oh, I hope it didnot hurt him! He keeps fast hold of the little boy. Oh, they are coming nearer! Do make haste! Do make haste! Oh, I hope they will not both be dead! Oh, hold on strong, Jim! Daddy will pull you in soon; but the sea is so strong! Oh, how I wish the sea was not so cruel! I know now why mother said that it would be a blessed thing when there was no more sea!"
Pat was too excited not to keep talking all the time, though some of his words were piped out in shrill tones to his parents below, and some were said beneath his breath to himself. Below at the edge of the basin Nat and Eileen were straining over their task, pulling in the rope hand over hand, and using the pinnacle of rock as a lever to assist their efforts, their faces set and pale, their muscles tense and quivering; for it was a hard task—harder almost than their strength was equal to; for the rush of the hungry water dragging their prey away was very great, and they dared not relax their efforts for one moment.
But Eileen's muscles seemed to be turned into steel, and as Nat said afterwards, he could scarce believe it was not a strong man whostood at his side. The mother instinct in her made her fight as if for life itself for that unknown woman's child, whose life lay in the balance, as well as for honest Jim, who had served her husband so faithfully all these months, and had been such a friend to her own boy, too.
"We shall do it yet, wife—thank the Lord!" spoke Nat at length, in laboured gasps, as the strain upon the rope grew less. When once they had drawn the lifeless burden out of the track of the sweeping waves, and into the comparative tranquillity of the little bay, their task was comparatively easy. Hand over hand the rope came in, bearing the strain well, and showing no sign of rupture, until at last Nat leaned over the edge of the basin, and grasped the child by his floating hair.
Not the least difficult part of the business now was the raising of the half-drowned pair—the rescuer and the rescued inextricably locked together—out of the water and on to the safe shelter of the rocks above. Jim was by this time as insensible as the boy he had risked his life to draw ashore, though Nat was confident that he still lived, as he had not been long enoughin the water to be past restoring. But his bear-like embrace of the child was hard to undo; and only when the pair lay side by side upon the rocks did Nat's strong hands succeed in loosing that rigid clasp.
The moment the child was free, Eileen took the dripping form in her arms and bore it indoors. She scarcely dared to hope that the little fellow could be living. There was no means of knowing how long he had been in the water, but it must have been a long while. However, she laid him on her table, with a small cushion beneath his head, dried and chafed his cold limbs, and applied a steady and gentle friction in the neighbourhood of the heart. Presently she was almost certain she detected a faint pulsation, and redoubled her efforts, disregarding Pat's entreaties that she would bring the little boy to the fire because he must be so cold.
"He seemed to have received no injury at all, and began to swallow the warm milk."—Page 120.
"He seemed to have received no injury at all, and began to swallow the warm milk."—Page 120.
"Wait a bit, honey," she answered, still rubbing vigorously, and working the little arms up and down in a way which perplexed Pat not a little. "We must get the little heart to work before we warm the little body, else the blood will run there and choke it, and it won't be able to beat again. Set the heart going first, and then we'll wrap him in blankets by the fire. That's what I have always been taught. And put the kettle right on the fire, sonny, and get the bath out ready. I do believe—praise the Lord!—that the darling is living still. If he is, and if he gets a bit better, a hot bath will restore him quicker than anything. And get that box of dried herbs and sea-weed from the cupboard. There are some rare good things there for rubbing the skin with. I've seen wonderful cures with them in my young days."
Pat was intensely excited as he watched his mother's quick and clever ministrations to the little boy, who already began to look different—less like a child of marble, and more like one of flesh and blood. It seemed very, very long to Pat before his mother looked up with kindling eyes to say he was still alive; but Eileen herself had been surprised at the quickness with which the little heart had begun to beat beneath her hands, and decided in her own mind that the child could not have been very long in the water before they saw him.
Pat ran from the kitchen, where his mother'soperations were carried on, to the little room where Jim had been carried by Nat, and reported to each worker the success of the other. Jim very soon began to breathe again. He was not in the state the child had been, but he had evidently received some blow which had injured him in some way Nat could not at once determine. He awoke in great pain, and on trying to move himself became again unconscious; and Nat could only apply hot flannels to the side where the pain seemed to be worst, and get his wife, when she could spare the time, to mix him some of her simples, which had the effect of sending him off to sleep at last.
The little boy's case was different altogether. He seemed to have received no injury at all, but to be suffering simply from exposure and the length of time he had been in the water. The bath of herbs and pungent roots prepared by Eileen seemed to have a marvellous effect upon him, and he began to swallow the warm milk in teaspoonfuls which she gave him from time to time, each time with increased ease and eagerness.
"He likes it, mother," cried Pat excitedly;"I'm sure he likes it. I do wish he'd open his eyes and smile. Is he asleep, or what?"
"I hope he'll be asleep soon," answered Eileen, as she dried him by the fire, and prepared to lay him in her own well-warmed bed. "He's coming round beautiful, and if he doesn't get a fever on it, which I'm in hopes he won't after what I've done for him, he may wake up to know us in another few hours. But he'll be best in bed now; and so would you, honey. You've been up the whole night long, my little son. Shall mother put the pretty little boy to bed first, and then little Pat?"
It had not occurred to Pat before that he was tired; but now he found that he could only just keep his eyes open, and that his limbs were quite stiff from fatigue. So after seeing the little stranger boy put to bed, he consented to be undressed and fed himself. "Just as if I were a baby myself!" as he said sleepily; and his head had hardly touched the pillow before he fell fast, fast asleep, and slept for more hours at a time than he ever remembered to have done in all his life before.
landscape
THE LITTLE PRINCE
W
What was that noise? Pat sat up in bed to listen; and as he did so, he began to wonder where he was, and what had happened; for he had an impression that there was something strange in the way the light fell on the wall, and in his mind there was a feeling that some great event had taken place which he could not at that moment recall; and then, whatwasthat noise in the living-room? It was for all the world like the sound of a little child laughing and prattling; but how had any child come to Lone Rock in the night?... And then all in a moment, like a flash, it came back to Pat—all the events of the night of the storm, the dismasted ship, the little boy lashed to the spar, Jim's heroicattempt to save the child—everything that had occurred up to the time he had let his mother put him to bed in broad daylight. It was daylight again now. He knew by the place the sun had got to on the wall that it was not only day, but afternoon. He thought for a moment that it was the afternoon of the day on which he had gone to bed; but he soon found out that it was the day following that one. He had slept for more than twenty-four hours, as little folks will sometimes do when they have been through great fatigue and excitement; and now he waked up as fresh as a lark, and full of eager curiosity about the new inmate of the lighthouse.
He slipped out of bed, and into his clothes as fast as possible, and then stepped softly across the floor, and peeped into the next room. He wanted to see the little stranger before he was himself seen. He wanted to have a good look at him, and in this he was not disappointed.
The living-room looked very neat and trim. All the disorder and mess which had been brought in the previous day was cleared away. The table was spread for a meal, and Eileenherself was sitting comfortably in her rocking-chair, with a laughing little boy perched upon her knee, laughing and crowing lustily at the movement of the chair. He was a great many years younger than Pat—this little waif of the ocean—perhaps not more than four years old. He had quantities of soft yellow hair, that floated round his head like a cloud, all curly and pretty; and his skin was like a peach in its soft bloom and pretty rich colour. He had big dark eyes that seemed full of sunshine, and when he laughed his little teeth looked like pearls. Pat thought he had never seen such a wonderful and lovely little boy before. He himself was not handsome, though he had a dear little shrewd intelligent face of his own, and a pair of pretty grey eyes like his mother's. Indeed, Pat had never before troubled his head as to whether people were pretty or the reverse; but the beauty of this child struck him as something so wonderful, that he could not help noticing it, and rejoicing in it. He had not thought about it in that strange night when the little guest had been brought in, looking like a marble image on a church monument. It was hard to believe that this could be the samebeing; and yet, of course, it must be. He came slowly forward, almost timidly, feeling as though he must apologise for his intrusion to this fairy prince.
His mother looked up, and greeted his appearance with a smile.
"Well, honey, quite rested after your vigil? That is right. And if you are up, will you mind the little boy whilst I get the tea? We have been living a strange life these past two days, and I scarce know what to call the meals; but father will like some tea when he comes down; and Jim, may be, will take a cup, too. Poor fellow! I wish we could get a doctor to him, but I'm afraid there'll be small chance of that for a week or more. The sea will run so high after the storm, though the wind does seem to be going down at last."
For the moment Pat was too much engrossed with this wonderful little boy to heed even what his mother said of Jim. He was standing on his own feet now, where Eileen had set him, looking hard at Pat, as though wondering who he was, and where he had come from. He was dressed in a little old suit of Pat's clothes, which was many sizes too big for him, thoughPat had long outgrown them. Yet little figure of fun as he was in this respect, nothing could destroy the look of dainty finish and beauty which seemed to belong to him as by a natural inheritance, and after he had indulged in a good long stare at Pat, a smile beamed all over his face, and he remarked graciously—
"I'll play wis'oo, ickle boy. I likes to play nice dames."
Pat was his slave in a moment, begging to be allowed to crawl round the room with the little prince on his back; and as this form of entertainment was mightily to the liking of the small guest, it was carried on uninterruptedly till Nat came down from the lighthouse, and laughed aloud to see the two children thus occupied.
"What! is he turning a little tyrant already?" asked the father, as he picked up the rider, and lifted him high in the air, laughing and shouting in glee at this sudden change in the game. "So, Pat, my boy, you are awake at last! We thought you had turned into one of the seven sleepers, whoever they may be; and this young man, too, though he woke up the first, and shows he has the making of a first-rate jack-tar in him. He's none the worse fora wetting that would have made an end of any landlubber. He must be cut out for a sailor—aren't you, my hearty?"
The child laughed, and danced up and down in those strong arms, and pulled Nat's beard, and shouted with glee. He was certainly none the worse, to all appearance, for the narrow escape of his life. Eileen marvelled at him, and her faith in her herbs and simples was tenfold increased. Perhaps Nature has secrets which are better known to the humble than the learned, for surely this unlettered woman, with her store of half-superstitious lore, gleaned in her girlhood from old women who were learned in the matter of Nature's cures, had achieved a result that many a medical man would have envied her. She was proud and delighted at her own success, and could hardly believe that any child could have gone through so much, and yet be so well and hearty twenty-four hours later.
"He was never born to be drowned—the little rogue—that's plain enough!" laughed Nat, as he took his seat at table, and gave the child to his wife. "And now let me have my tea as quick as you can, for there is double work up aloft since poor Jim is laid by his heels."
Pat stood beside his father, and waited on him with assiduity.
"How is poor Jim, and what is the matter with him? May I take him his tea? He will like it, I think, if I bring it."
"I think he will, sonny. He speaks of thee more than of any other. I scarce know what is the matter. It seems like as if he had broken a rib or two, and they were pressing inwards, somehow. He can't move without pain, and sometimes can scarce draw breath. But so long as he's lying still and quiet he seems fairly comfortable like. We must get a doctor to him as soon as ever we can. I've signalled ashore that we want help; but I'm afeard it will be some days before any boat can come anigh us."
Pat took the cup of tea and slice of buttered toast his mother had made, and went carefully with it to Jim's little dark room, which was not far away.
Jim was lying propped up with pillows, and there was a curious whiteness about his weather-beaten face, and a sunken look about his cheeks, which made Pat realise in a moment that he must be very ill. His heavy eyes, however,lightened at sight of the child, and he just moved his hand along the counterpane in token of greeting.
"I've brought you some tea, Jim," he said softly; "I'm going to stop and give it you. I'm a good hand with sick folks. Mother always says so when she's ill. You needn't move or talk if you don't want to. I'll do everything for you. You've been a hero, you know, Jim; and now we must take care of you till you're well. I wonder what it feels like to be a hero? Do you feel different from what you did before that night?"
Something like the ghost of a smile passed across the man's face, and he made a slight sign of dissent. Pat saw that he could not talk much, and he contented himself with giving him the tea, and coaxing him to try and swallow just a morsel of the toast, talking to him softly the while, and telling him how well and strong and beautiful the little boy was. Jim listened with evident interest and pleasure, but speech was visibly difficult, and the only connected words he spoke were whispered just at the end before Pat went away and left him.
"I want you to read.... Just a few verses... about Peter ... walking on the sea, ... and what the Lord said to him;" and Pat understood in a moment, and got the Bible from the table, and quickly found the place.
As he read the simple story, a happy and satisfied look passed over Jim's face, and he closed his eyes as though he were asleep. Pat put the book back, and as he did so he could not help noticing how many signs of wear it showed, considering that it was new only a few months before; and there were bits of paper tucked into so many different places. It was plain that Jim had read it a great deal. Pat thought that it must have been that which helped Jim to be a hero that stormy night. The child knew he had risked his life to save the little boy, and he loved Jim with an admiring, reverential love, quite different from his former affection.
But since there could be no conversation, he need not linger here, and he began to want his own tea, as well as the society of the beautiful little boy. Stealing from Jim's darkened room he found his way back to his mother, and there was his tea all ready for him, and the little boyenjoying his own share mightily, perched on Eileen's knee, and chattering away to her in a babbling fashion, which she seemed to understand better than Pat did all at once.
"Mother, what is his name? Can he tell us?" asked Pat eagerly; and the question being put by Eileen to the child, was received by a gurgling baby laugh, and an answer which the listening Pat barely understood.
"He calls himself Prince Rupert, by what I can make out," she said, turning with a smile to her own boy. "I've asked him again and again, for I don't know whether that isn't a pet name, not his own——"
"Oh, but, mother, why should it be? I'm sure he's a sort of little prince—one can tell it by looking at him!" cried the delighted Pat. "Prince Rupert! What a pretty name! Oh, mother, I have wanted so often to see a real live prince. Mother, are any of the Queen's children called Prince Rupert? Do you think he might be one of them?"
Eileen smiled at the simple good faith with which Pat asked this question, and also at the wonder she saw in the boy's eyes as they were turned towards the little guest, who was busilyengaged in trying to reach everything upon the table, that he might better examine its properties.
"No, dear; he's a deal too young to be our Queen's son, and there isn't a Prince Rupert amongst them; but he's plainly some well-born little boy, even if he isn't a real prince; and we must try and find out who his parents are, and where he came from, so soon as a boat can come to us, when the storm is over. Somebody must be mourning him for lost; unless, indeed, those who belong to him have found a watery grave themselves. One cannot guess how he came here, except that it must have been from some vessel, either wrecked or in great peril. He has been washed overboard—that's plain enough; but whether or not the ship went down, we cannot tell. We shall have to try and learn; but he can tell us nothing, bless him. He doesn't seem even to remember much about being on a ship. It's as if the salt water had washed everything out of his pretty head."
Pat's face was full of eager excitement and purpose.
"Oh, mother!" he cried; "and if nobodycomes for the little boy—if his relations have been drowned in the ship—may we keep him? May I have him for a brother? You know you've said sometimes you wished I had a brother to play with. If nobody else wants Prince Rupert, may he stay here in the lighthouse with me? I should be so very happy if I might have him always. I would take care of him. He shouldn't be any trouble to you. Oh, mother, do say yes! I do love him so very, very much!"
Eileen was smiling at her little boy's request, but she did not give him any direct answer. She set the child on his feet, and he promptly ran across to Pat with a shout of glee; and as the pair scrambled to the floor for a renewed romp together, she watched them a few minutes, and then said—
"Poor little boy; he's too young to miss his mother yet, but I fear she may be in a terrible state of fear for him if she be living, poor soul. We must not think of ourselves, little son. We must think first of others. We must send word ashore about the little boy, and the police will do all they can to find out who he is. I can't but think he was washed off yon great steamerthat was labouring past us that stormy night; and both Jim and your father think and hope that she weathered her way round the point, and reached harbour safely. If that is so, we shall soon hear who little Prince Rupert really is, and his parents or friends will send for him. That will be best of all; for this would be a poor sort of a home for him to be brought up in. He's plainly been used to something very different. Princes don't live in places like this, my little son."
"No, I suppose not," answered Pat wistfully, "but I would have tried to make him so very happy!"
"Well, make him as happy as you can whilst he is here. May be it will be for a good spell yet. And never mind what happens afterwards. You will always like to think you made his visit to the lighthouse a pleasant one."
So Pat set himself with all his heart to the task of entertaining the little prince thus wonderfully cast upon his hands. It was not difficult to do this, for the wee boy was the merriest of little mortals, and took an immense liking to Pat from the very first. Very soon Pat began to understand his lisping prattle perfectly, andwas delighted with his sharp observation, and little airs of baby importance and mastery. It was very plain that Prince Rupert had been used to plenty of attention and petting. He demanded both as a natural right, and soon had the submissive Pat completely under his yoke. Pat was to sit by him when he had his bath, so that he could splash him all over with the water, crowing with mischievous delight all the while. Pat was to come into the inner room, and see him go to bed, and sit beside him and tell him a tale; and of course Pat was enchanted to do this, and would have told him tales till midnight, had not his little tyrant speedily gone off to sleep, holding him fast by the hand. Pat never thought of taking his hand away. He would have sat by the little bed all night sooner than disturb his small majesty; but his mother came in and unclasped the chubby fingers, whilst she tucked the little stranger warmly up in his cot; and then Pat found that he was rather stiff and cramped, though he hardly knew then how to tear himself from the side of his new playmate.
"Isn't he beautiful, mother?" he whispered softly, as he stooped to kiss the little rose-leafface. "Oh, mother, it must have been Jesus who sent Jim to fetch him out of the sea."
"Yes, Pat, dear, I think it must have been. Dear, bonny little lamb—he's one of the dear Lord's own little children."
"Oh, yes, mother! and Jim told me before he went that it seemed just as if the Lord had called him to go out into the sea—like as He told Peter to come to Him, you know. Jim is very fond of that story. I read it to him often. You know, mother, Jesus kept Peter from sinking in the sea, and I think He must have been with Jim, too, for the waves were so very, very strong. I thought he would never be able to reach him. But he did; and then you and father pulled him safe to shore—but I don't think you could have done it if Jesus hadn't been helping too."
"I'm sure we could not," answered Eileen with dewy eyes, as she turned away and took Pat's hand tenderly in hers. "I often think that the dear Lord is walking over the sea on stormy nights, very near indeed to those who are in peril, if they could but see Him there. And Pat, honey, did you say that Jim felt that too?Did he think that he was doing it at the bidding of the Lord Jesus?"
"Yes, mother, I am sure he did. I can't remember just what he said, but it was something very like that. I'm almost sure that Jim loves Jesus very much now. He's always reading about Him in the Bible you bought for me to give him. Why do you cry, mother? Aren't you glad that Jim is happier than he was? because I am sure he is. I think it makes everybody happy to love Jesus, and to like to know about Him, and think about Him."
"Indeed it does, my little boy," answered Eileen, bending to kiss him, "and it's thankful I am that poor Jim has come out of the darkness into the light. Go to him, Pat, and see if he is asleep, or if he is wanting anything. I must try and get the little boy's clothes mended to-night for him. They were so drenched and stained I had to wash them out in rain water, and get them well cleaned and dried. I must sit up till they are ready for him to-morrow, for I can't bear to see him running about such a little object as he is in your old things. His own mother would scarce know him, I take it. Beautiful, soft, warm clothes his own are—toogood to be really hurt by their wetting. Run to Jim, dear, and see if you can do anything for him, and then come back and read to me. Father will have a long watch again to-night, and I shall sit up and take a spell with him by-and-by. We must all put our shoulder to the wheel and help him till we can get help here from shore."