when the swimmer saw the light he looked up; even at the distance they could see the lift of his face; but he did not seem to realise that there was any intention in the lighting, or that it was created for his benefit. he was manifestly spent with his tremendous exertions, and with his long heavy swim in the turbulent sea. stephen’s heart went out to him in a wave of infinite pity. she tried to use the trumpet. but simple as it is, a trumpet needs skill or at least practice in its use; she could only make an unintelligible sound, and not much even of that. one of the young men said:
‘let me try it, my lady!’ she handed him the trumpet and he in turn used with a will. but it was of no avail; even his strong lungs and lusty manhood availed nothing in the teeth of that furious gale. the roof and the whole house was now well alight, and the flame roared and leapt. stephen began to make gestures bidding the swimmer, in case he might see her and understand, move round the rocks. but he made no change in his direction, and was fast approaching a point in the tide-race whence to avoid the sunken rocks would be an impossibility. the old whaler, accustomed to use all his wits in times of difficulty, said suddenly:
‘how can he understand when we’re all between him and the light. we are only black shadows to him; all he can see are waving arms!’ his sons caught his meaning and were already dashing towards the burning house. they came back with piles of blazing wood and threw them down on the very edge of the cliff; brought more and piled them up, flinging heaps of straw on the bonfire and pouring on oil and pitch till the flames rose high. stephen saw what was necessary and stood out of the way, but close to the old whaler, where the light fell on both of their faces as they looked in the direction of the swimmer. stephen’s red dress itself stood out like a flame. the gale tearing up the front of the cliff had whirled away her hat; in the stress of the wind her hair was torn from its up-pinning and flew wide, itself like leaping flame.
her gestures as she swept her right arm round, as though demonstrating the outward curve of a circle, or raising the hand above her head motioned with wide palm and spread fingers ‘back! back!’ seemed to have reached the swimmer’s intelligence. he half rose in the water and looked about. as if seeing something that he realised, he sank back again and began swim frantically out to sea. a great throb of joy made stephen almost faint. at last she had been able to do something to help this gallant man. in half a minute his efforts seemed to tell in his race for life. he drew sufficiently far from dangerous current for there to be a hope that he might be saved if he could last out the stress to come.
the fishermen kept watch in silent eagerness; and in their presence stephen felt a comfort, though, like her, they could do nothing at present.
when the swimmer had passed sufficiently far out to be clear of the rocks, the fire began to lose its flame, though not its intensity. it would be fiery still for hours to come, and of great heat; but the flames ceased to leap, and in the moderated light stephen only saw the white face for one more instant ere it faded out of her ken, when, turning, the man looked towards the light and made a gesture which she did not understand: for he put for an instant both hands before his face.
just then there was a wild noise on the cliff. the rocket-cart drawn by sixteen splendid horses, some of them hunters, came tearing up the slope, and with it many men on horseback afoot. many of the runners were the gentlemen who had given their horses for the good work.
as the coastguards jumped from the cart, and began to get out the rocket stand, the old whaler pointed out the direction where the swimmer’s head could still be seen. some of the sailors could see it too; though to stephen and the laymen it was invisible. the chief boatman shook his head:
‘no use throwing a line there! even if he got it we could never drag him alive through these rocks. he would be pounded to death before twenty fathom!’ stephen’s heart grew cold as she listened. was this the end? then with a bitter cry she wailed:
‘oh! can nothing be done? can nothing be done? can no boat come from the other side of the point? must such a brave man be lost!’ and her tears began to flow.
one of the young men who had just arrived, a neighbouring squire, a proved wastrel but a fine horseman, who had already regarded stephen at the few occasions of their meeting with eyes of manifest admiration, spoke up:
‘don’t cry, lady de lannoy. there’s a chance for him yet. i’ll see what i can do.’
‘bless you! oh! bless you!’ she cried impulsively as she caught his hand. then came the chill of doubt. ‘but what can you do?’ she added despairingly.
‘hector and i may be able to do something together.’ turning to one of the fishermen he asked:
‘is there any way down to the water in the shelter of the point?’
‘ay! ay! sir,’ came the ready answer. ‘there’s the path as we get down by to our boats.’
‘come on, then!’ he said. ‘some of you chaps show us a light on the way down. if hector can manage the scramble there’s a chance. you see,’ he said, turning again to stephen, ‘hector can swim like a fish. when he was a racer i trained him in the sea so that none of the touts could spy out his form. many’s the swim we’ve had together; and in rough water too, though in none so wild as this!’
‘but it is a desperate chance for you!’ said stephen, woman-like drawing somewhat back from a danger she had herself evoked. the young man laughed lightly:
‘what of that! i may do one good thing before i die. that fine fellow’s life is worth a hundred of my wasted one! here! some of you fellows help me with hector. we must take him from the cart and get a girth on him instead of the saddle. we shall want something to hold on to without pulling his head down by using the bridle.’
he, followed by some others, ran to the rocket-cart where the horses stood panting, their steam rising in a white cloud in the glow of the burning house. in an incredibly short time the horse was ready with only the girth. the young squire took him by the mane and he followed eagerly; he had memories of his own. as they passed close to stephen the squire said to one of his friends:
‘hold him a minute, jack!’ he ran over to stephen and looked at her hard:
‘good-bye! wish me luck; and give us light!’ tears were in her eyes and a flush on her cheek as she took his hand and clasped it hard:
‘oh, you brave man! god bless you!’ he stooped suddenly and impulsively kissed the back of her hand lightly and was gone. for a fleeting moment she was angry. no man had kissed her hand before; but the thought of his liberty was swept away by another:
‘little enough when he may be going to his death!’
it was a sight to see that man and horse, surrounded by an eager crowd of helpers, scrambling down the rough zigzag, cut and worn in the very face of the cliff. they stumbled, and slipped; pebbles and broken rock fell away under their feet. alone close to the bonfire stood stephen, following every movement with racing blood and beating heart. the bonfire was glowing; a constant stream of men and women were dragging and hauling all sorts of material for its increase. the head of the swimmer could be seen, rising and falling amid the waves beyond the skyres.
when about twenty feet from the water-level the path jutted out to one side left of the little beach whereon the sea now broke fiercely. this was a place where men watched, and whence at times they fished with rods; the broad rock overhung the water. the fire above, though it threw shadows, made light enough for everything. the squire held up his hand.
‘stop! we can take off this rock, if the water is deep enough. how much is it?’
‘ten fathoms sheer.’
‘good!’ he motioned to them all to keep back. then threw off all his clothes except shirt and trousers. for an instant he patted hector and then sprang upon his back. holding him by the mane he urged him forward with a cry. the noble animal did not hesitate an instant. he knew that grasp of the mane; that cry; that dig of the spurless heels. he sprang forward with wide dilated nostrils, and from the edge of the jutting rock jumped far out into the sea. man and horse disappeared for a few seconds, but rose safely. the man slid from the horse’s back; and, holding by the girth with one hand, swam beside him out to sea in the direction the swimmer must come on rounding the sunken rocks.
a wild cheer broke from all on the cliff above and those already scrambling back up the zigzag. stephen kept encouraging the men to bring fuel to the bonfire:
‘bring everything you can find; the carts, the palings, the roofs, the corn, the dried fish; anything and everything that will burn. we must have light; plenty of light! two brave men’s lives are at stake now!’
the whole place was a scene of activity. stephen stood on the edge of the cliff with the old whaler and the chief boatman and some of the women. the rest of the coastguards were by orders of their chief rigging up a whip which they thought might be necessary to hoist the men up from the water, if they could ever get close enough. one of the young men who had ridden with the rocket-cart kept tight hold of hector’s bridle; he knew it would be wanted if the horse ever had a chance of landing.
* * * * *
when harold turned away from the dazzling blue lights on the pier, and saw the far white line of the cliffs beyond the bay, his heart sank within him. even his great strength and hardihood, won by work and privation in the far north-west, had been already taxed in the many days of the battling with the gale when all on board who could lend a hand were taken into service. again by the frantic struggle of the last hour or two, when the ship ran shoreward at the utmost of her speed in the last hope of beaching in time to save life. finally in that grim struggle to draw the life-line shoreward. the cold and then the great heat, and on top of it the chill of the long swim, seemed to have struck at him. alone on the dark sea, for soon the current and his own exertions were taking him away from the rocks, the light of the burning ship was ceasing to be effective. it was just enough to hinder his vision; looking from the patch of light which bathed the light and him he could just see far off the white water which marked the cliff fronts, and on the edge of his horizon the grim moving white wall where the waves broke on the headland.
on and on he toiled. his limbs were becoming more cramped with the cold and the terrible strain of swimming in such waves. but still the brave heart bore him up; and resolutely, sternly he forced himself afresh to the effort before him. he reasoned that where there was such a headland standing out so stark into the sea there ought to be some shelter in its lee. if he could pass it he might find calmer water and even a landing-place beyond.
here at least was hope. he would try to round the point at any rate. now he drew so close that the great rocks seemed to tower vast above him. he was not yet close enough to feel as though lapped in their shadow; but even the overcast sky seemed full of light above the line of the cliff. there was a strange roaring, rushing sound around him. he thought that it was not merely the waves dashing on the rocks, but that partly it came from his own ears; that his ebbing strength was feeling the frantic struggle which he was making. the end was coming, he thought; but still he kept valiantly on, set and silent, as is the way with brave men.
suddenly from the top of the cliff a bright light flashed. he looked at it sideways as he fought his way on, and saw the light rise and fall and flicker as the flames leaped. high over him he saw fantastic figures which seemed to dance on the edge of the high cliff. they had evidently noticed him, and were making signals of some sort; but what the motions were he could not see or understand, for they were but dark silhouettes, edged with light, against the background of fire. the only thing he could think was that they meant to encourage him, and so he urged himself to further effort. it might be that help was at hand!
several times as he turned his head sideways he saw the figures and the light, but not so clearly; it was as though the light was lessening in power. when again he looked he saw a new fire leap out on the edge of the cliff, and some figures to the right of it. they were signalling in some way. so, pausing in his swimming, he rose a little from the water and looked at them.
a thrill shot through him, and a paralysing thought that he must have gone mad. with his wet hand he cleared his eyes, though the touching them pained him terribly, and for an instant saw clearly:
there on the edge of the cliff, standing beside some men and waving her arms in a wild sweep as though motioning frantically ‘keep out! keep out!’ was a woman. instinctively he glanced to his left and saw a white waste of leaping water, through which sharp rocks rose like monstrous teeth. on the instant he saw the danger, and made out seaward, swimming frantically to clear the dangerous spot before the current would sweep him upon the rocks.
but the woman! as one remembers the last sight when the lightning has banished sight, so that vision seemed burned into his brain. a woman with a scarlet riding-habit and masses of long red hair blowing in the gale like leaping flame! could there be two such persons in the world? no! no! it was a vision! a vision of the woman he loved, come to save him in the direst moment of great peril!
his heart beat with new hope; only the blackness of the stormy sea was before him as he strove frantically on.
presently when he felt the current slacken, for he had been swimming across it and could feel its power, he turned and looked back. as he did so he murmured aloud:
‘a dream! a vision! she came to warn me!’ for as he looked all had disappeared. cliff and coastline, dark rocks and leaping seas, blazing fire, and the warning vision of the woman he loved.
again he looked where the waste of sea churning amongst the sunken rocks had been. he could hear the roaring of waters, the thunder of great waves beating on the iron-bound coast; but nothing could he see. he was alone on the wild sea; in the dark.
then truly the swift shadow of despair fell upon him.
‘blind blind!’ he moaned, and for the moment, stricken with despair, sank into the trough of the waves. but the instinctive desire for life recalled him. once more he fought his way up to the surface, and swam blindly, desperately on. seeing nothing, he did not know which way he was going. he might have heard better had his eyes been able to help his ears; but in the sudden strange darkness all the senses were astray. in the agony of his mind he could not even feel the pain of his burnt face; the torture of his eyes had passed. but with the instinct of a strong man he kept on swimming blindly, desperately.
* * * * *
it seemed as if ages of untold agony had gone by, when he heard a voice seemingly beside him:
‘lay hold here! catch the girth!’ the voice came muffled by wind and wave. his strength was now nearly at its last.
the shock of his blindness and the agony of the moments that had passed had finished his exhaustion. but a little longer and he must have sunk into his rest. but the voice and the help it promised rallied him for a moment. he had hardly strength to speak, but he managed to gasp out:
‘where? where? help me! i am blind!’ a hand took his and guided it to a tightened girth. instinctively his fingers closed round it, and he hung on grimly. his senses were going fast. he felt as if it was all a strange dream. a voice here in the sea! a girth! a horse; he could hear its hard breathing.
the voice came again.
‘steady! hold on! my god! he’s fainted! i must tie him on!’ he heard a tearing sound, and something was wound round his wrists. then his nerveless fingers relaxed their hold; and all passed into oblivion.
