Ravenshoe

  CHAPTER XVII.

  IN WHICH THERE IS ANOTHER SHIPWRECK.

  Time jogged on very pleasantly to the party assembled at Ravenshoe thatChristmas. There were woodcocks and pheasants in the woods; there werehares, snipes, and rabbits on the moor. In the sea there were fish; andmany a long excursion they had in the herring-boats--sometimes standingboldly out to sea towards the distant blue island in the main, sometimescrawling lazily along under the lofty shoreless cliffs which toweredabove their heads from 200 to 1,100 feet high.

  It was three days before Christmas-day, and they were returning fromfishing along the coast, and were about ten miles or so from home. I sayreturning, though in fact there was not a breath of wind, and the boatwas drifting idly along on the tide. Two handsome simple-looking youngmen were lolling by the useless tiller; an old man, hale and strong as alion, with a courteous high-bred look about him, was splicing a rope;and a tall, pale, black-haired man was looking steadily seaward, withhis hands in his pockets, while Charles and Marston were standing in thebows smoking.

  "What a curious, dreamy, dosy, delicious kind of winter you have downhere," said Marston.

  "I am very fond of it," said Charles; "it keeps you in continual hopefor the spring that is coming. In the middle of frost and snow and iceone is apt to lose one's faith in waving boughs and shady pools."

  "I have had such a quiet time with you down here, Charley. I am sopleased with the way in which you are going on. You are quite an alteredman. I think we shall both look back to the last few quiet weeks as ahappy time."

  Here the tall dark man, who was looking out to sea, suddenly said--

  "Rain and hail, snow and tempest, stormy wind fulfilling His word."

  "Ay, ay," said the old man; "going to blow to-night, I expect."

  "We shall go home pretty fast, may be."

  "Not us, Master Charles, dear," said the tall man. "We are going to haveit from south and by west, and so through west round to north. Beforewhich time there'll be souls in glory, praise be to God."

  The old man took off his hat reverently.

  "There won't be amuch surf on when we beaches she," said one of theyoung men. "It won't get up afore the wind be full round west for anhour."

  "You're a spaking like a printed buke, Jan," said the old man.

  "I'm a thinking differently, Master Evans," said the dark man. "It willchop round very sudden, and be west before we know where we are. I speakwith humility to a man who has seen the Lord's wonders in the deep somany years longer nor me. But I think, under God, I am right."

  "You most in general be right. They as converses with the Lord night andday, day and night, like as you do, knows likely more of His works norwe, as ain't your gifts."

  "The Lord has vouchsafed me nothing in the way of a vision, about thisafternoon, Master Evans."

  "Didn't 'ee dream never at all last night?" said one of the young men:"Think 'ee now."

  "Nought to bear on wind or weather, Jan. I judges from the glass. It's adropping fast."

  Jan would have had more faith in one of Matthew's dreams, and didn'tseem to think much of the barometer. Meanwhile Marston had whisperedCharles--

  "Who is Matthews? What sect is he?"

  "Oh, he's a Brianite."

  "What is that?"

  "A sort of Ranter, I believe."

  Marston looked up, and saw the two great black eyes under the loftyforehead fixed full upon him. With the instinct of a gentleman, he saidat once--

  "I was asking Mr. Charles what sect you were of; that was all. He tellsme you are a Brianite, and I had never heard of that sect before. I hopeyou will let me talk to you about your matters of belief some day."

  Matthews took off his hat, and said--That with the Lord's will he wouldspeak to his honour. "Will your honour bear with a poor fisherman,ignorant of the world's learning, but who has had matters revealed tohim by the Lord in dreams and visions of the night? Peter was only afisherman, your honour, and, oh, if we could only hear him speak now!"

  He paused, and looked again to seaward. Charles had gone again into thebow, and Marston was standing among the men right aft. Suddenly Matthewsturned again upon him and said--

  "In the beaching of this here boat to-night, your honour, there may bedanger. In such case my place will be alongside of him," pointing toCharles. "There'd be a many kind hearts aching, if aught happened tohim. You stick close to these young men. They'll see after you, sir."

  "You keep close alongside of we, sir. You hold on of we, sir. We'll seeyou all right, sir," said the two young men.

  "But, my dear good souls, I am as good a swimmer as any in England, andas active as a cat. Pray, don't mind me."

  "You keep hold of we and run, sir," said one of the young men, "that'sall you're a'got to do, sir."

  "I shall most certainly run," said Marston, laughing, "but I declinedrowning any one but myself--"

  Charles said at this moment, "Do come here and look at this."

  It was worth looking at, indeed. They were about a mile from shore,floating about anyhow on an oily smooth sea; for the tide had changed,and they were making no headway. Before them one of the noblestheadlands on the coast, an abrupt cone of slate, nigh a thousand feethigh, covered almost entirely with grass, sloped suddenly into thewater; and in advance of it, but slightly on one side, a rugged mound ofblack rock, nearly six hundred feet, stood out into the sea, andcontrasted its horrid jagged lines with the smooth green of the peakbehind. Round its base, dividing it from the glossy sea, ran a delicateline of silver--the surf caused by the ground-swell; and in front thewhole promontory was dimly mirrored in the quietly heaving ocean.

  "What a noble headland," said Marston; "is that grass on the furtherpeak too steep to walk upon?"

  "There's some one a'walking on it now," said old Evans. "There's a womana'walking on it."

  None could see it but he, except Matthews, who said he couldn't tell ifit was a sheep or no.

  Charles got out his glass, and the old man was right. A woman waswalking rapidly along the peak, about the third of the way down.

  "What a curious place for a woman to be in!" he remarked. "It is almostterrible to look at."

  "I never saw any one there before, save the shepherd," said the old man.

  "It's a sheep-path," said one of the young ones. "I have been alongthere myself. It is the short way round to Coombe."

  Charles would have thought more of the solitary female figure on thatawful precipice, but that their attention was diverted by somethingelse. From the south-westward black flaws of wind began to creep towardsthem, alternated with long irregular bands of oily calm. Soon the calmbands disappeared, and the wind reached them. Then they had steerage,and in a very short time were roaring out to sea close hauled, with abrisk and ever-increasing breeze.

  They saw that they would have to fetch a very long leg, and make a greatoffing, in order to reach Ravenshoe at all. The wind was fresheningevery moment, changing to the west, and the sea was getting up. It tookthem three hours to open Ravenshoe Bay; and, being about five miles fromthe shore, they could see that already there was an ugly side-surfsweeping in, and that the people were busy on the beach hauling up theirboats out of harm's way.

  "How beautifully these craft sail," said Marston, as they were allhanging on by her weather gunwale, and the green sea was rushing past toleeward, almost under their feet, in sheets of angry foam.

  "It is amazing what speed is got out of them on a wind," said Charles,"but they are dangerous craft."

  "Why so?"

  "These lug-sails are so awkward in tacking, you will see."

  They ran considerably past Ravenshoe and about six miles to sea, whenthe word was given to go about. In an instant the half deck was lumberedwith the heavy red sails; and, after five minutes of unutterableconfusion, she got about. Marston was expecting her to broach to everymoment during this long five minutes, but fortune favoured them. Theywent freer on this tack, for the wind was now north of west, and thebrave little craft went
nearly before it at her finest pace. The menkept on her as much sail as she could stand, but that was very little;fast as they went, the great seas went faster, as though determined tobe at the dreadful rendezvous before the boat. Still the waves rosehigher and the wind howled louder. They were nearing the shore rapidly.

  Now they began to see, through the mist, the people gathered in a crowdon the shore, densest at one point, but with a few restless stragglersright and left of that point, who kept coming and going. This spot waswhere they expected to come ashore. They were apparently the last boatout, and all the village was watching them with the deepest anxiety.

  They began to hear a sound other than the howling of the wind in therigging, and the rush of waters around them--a continuous thunder,growing louder each moment as the boat swept onward. The thunder of thesurf upon the sand. And, looking forward, they could see just the top ofit as it leapt madly up.

  It was a nervous moment. They stood ready in their shirts and trousers,for a rush, should it be necessary. And the old man was at the helm.They saw the seas begin to curl. Then they were in the middle of them.Then the water left them on the sand, and three brave fellows from theshore dashed to hook on the tackles; but they were too late. Back with aroar like a hungry lion came the sea; the poor boat broached to, andtook the whole force of the deluge on her broadside. In a moment more,blinded and stunned, they were all in the water, trying to stand againstthe backward rush which took them near midthigh. Old Master Evans wasnearest to Marston; he was tottering to fall when Marston got hold ofhim, and saved him. The two young men got hold of both of them. Thenthree men from the shore dashed in and got hold of Charles; and then, asthe water went down and they dared move their feet, they all ran fortheir lives. Marston and his party got on to dry land on their feet,but Charles and his assistants were tumbled over and over, and washed upignominiously covered with sand. Charles, however, soon recoveredhimself, and, looking round to thank those who had done him thisservice, found that one of them was William, who, when the gale had comeon, had, with that bland indifference to the stud-groom's personalfeelings which we have seen him exhibit before, left his work, anddressed in a Jersey and blue trousers, and come down to lend a hand. Hehad come in time to help his foster-brother out of the surf.

  "I am so very thankful to you," said Charles to the two others. "I willnever forget you. I should have been drowned but for you. William, whenI am in trouble I am sure to find you at my elbow."

  "You won't find me far off, Master Charles," said William. They didn'tsay any more to one another those two. There was no need.

  The tall man, Matthews, had been cast up with a broken head, and, on thewhole, seemed rather disappointed at not finding himself in paradise. Hehad stumbled in leaping out of the boat, and hurt his foot, and had hada hard time of it, poor fellow.

  As Charles and William stood watching the poor boat breaking up, and themen venturing their lives to get the nets out of her, a hand was laid onCharles's shoulder, and, turning round, he faced Cuthbert.

  "Oh, Charles, Charles, I thought I had lost you! Come home and let usdry you, and take care of you. William, you have risked your life forone who is very dear to us. God reward you for it! Brother, you areshivering with cold, and you have nothing but your trousers and Jerseyon, and your head and feet are bare, and your poor hair is wet and fullof sand; let me carry you up, Charles, the stones will cut your feet.Let me carry you, Charles. I used to do it when you were little."

  There was water in Charles's eyes (the salt water out of his hair, youunderstand), as he answered:--

  "I think I can walk, Cuthbert; my feet are as hard as iron."

  "No, but I must carry you," said Cuthbert. "Get up, brother."

  Charles prepared to comply, and Cuthbert suddenly pulled off his shoesand stockings, and made ready.

  "Oh, Cuthbert, don't do that," said Charles, "you break my heart."

  "Do let me, dear Charles. I seldom ask you a favour. If I didn't knowthat it was acceptable to God, do you think I would do it?"

  Charles hesitated one moment; but he caught William's eye, and William'seye and William's face said so plainly "do it," that Charles hesitatedno longer, but got on his brother's back. Cuthbert ordered William, whowas barefoot, to put on his discarded shoes and stockings, which Williamdid; and then Cuthbert went toiling up the stony path towards the hall,with his brother on his back--glorying in his penance.

  Is this ridiculous? I cannot say I can see it in this light. I may laughto scorn the religion that teaches men that, by artificially producingmisery and nervous terror, and in that state flying to religion as acomfort and refuge, we in any way glorify God, or benefit ourselves. Ican laugh, I say, at a form of religion like this; but I cannot laugh atthe men who believe in it, and act up to it. No. I may smoke my pipe,and say that the fool Cuthbert Ravenshoe took off his shoes, and gavethem to the groom, and carried a twelve-stone brother for a quarter of amile barefoot, and what a fool he must be, and so forth. But the sneeris a failure, and the laugh dies away; and I say, "Well, Cuthbert, ifyou are a fool, you are a consistent and manly one at all events."

  Let us leave these three toiling up the steep rocky path, and take aglance elsewhere. When the gale had come on, little Mary had leftDensil, and putting on her bonnet, gone down to the beach. She had askedthe elder fishermen whether there would be any danger in beaching theboat, and they had said in chorus, "Oh, bless her sweet ladyship'sheart, no. The young men would have the tackles on her and have her up,oh, ever so quick;" and so she had been reassured, and walked up anddown. But, as the wind came stronger and stronger, and she had seen thelast boat taken in half full of water--and as the women kept walking upand down uneasily, with their hands under their aprons--and as she sawmany an old eagle eye, shaded by a horny hand, gazing anxiously seawardat the two brown sails plunging about in the offing--she had lost heartagain, and had sat her down on a windlass apart, with a pale face, and asick heart.

  A tall gaunt brown woman came up to her and said,

  "My lady musn't fret. My lady would never do for a fisherman's wife.Why, my dear tender flesh, there's a hundred strong arms on the beachnow, as would fetch a Ravenshoe out of anywhere a'most. 'Tis a crosssurf, Miss Mary; but, Lord love ye, they'll have the tackles on herafore she's in it. Don't ye fret, dear, don't ye fret."

  But she had sat apart and fretted nevertheless; and, when she saw thebrown bows rushing madly through the yellow surf, she had shut her eyesand prayed, and had opened them to see the boat on her beam ends, and adozen struggling figures in the pitiless water.

  Then she had stood up and wrung her hands.

  They were safe. She heard that, and she buried her face in her hands,and murmured a prayer of thanksgiving.

  Some one stood beside her. It was Marston, bareheaded and barefooted.

  "Oh, thank God!" she said.

  "We have given you a sad fright."

  "I have been terribly frightened. But you must not stand dripping there.Please come up, and let me attend you."

  So she got him a pair of shoes, and they went up together. The penanceprocession had passed on before; and a curious circumstance is this,that although on ordinary occasions Marston was as lively a talker asneed be, on this occasion he was an uncommonly stupid one, as he neversaid one word all the way up to the hall, and then separated from herwith a formal little salutation.