Kitabı oku: «Digby Heathcote: The Early Days of a Country Gentleman's Son and Heir», sayfa 6
“Follow me, lads,” suddenly exclaimed old Toby, and led the way towards a ledge of rocks which jutted out into the sea, and formed one side of the bay of which I have spoken.
In a moment the fishermen had their hands out of their pockets, and were all life and activity. Carrying some long spars and several coils of rope, they hurried after Toby to the end of the reef. Toby was seen to stop. Digby and his companions held their breath – well they might. It seemed as if the ship must strike the very end of that black reef, over which the sea was breaking with violence so fearful that it must have shattered to fragments the stoutest ship that ever floated. On she came; there was a pause it seemed; a cross-sea struck her, and amidst a deluge of foam she was hurled past the point, and driven in towards the bay. Another sea lifted her up, and then down she came on the beach, still far out among the breakers, with a tremendous crash, which seemed to shake the very shore. Now was the moment of greatest peril to those on board – the seas meeting with a resistance they had not hitherto found, dashed furiously over the hull, carrying away the bulwarks, and the boats, and caboose, and everything still remaining on deck. The crew clung to ropes made fast to the stumps of the masts, or to ring-bolts in the decks, but the strength of many of them could not withstand the fury of the seas. One after the other was torn from his hold, and hurled among the boiling breakers. In vain the poor fellows struck out; the receding waves dashed them against the side of the ship, or carried them struggling hopelessly far out to sea, where they were lost to sight among the foam.
While this was going forward, Toby and his companions were trying every means they could think of to get a rope carried to the wreck. Unfortunately they were unprovided with Captain Manby’s apparatus, or any other contrivance for throwing a shot with a line attached to it over a wreck, so that by the line a hawser might be hauled on shore. There were none of those excellent inventions – life-boats – in the neighbourhood, which are now, happily, stationed all along the British coast, and have been the means of saving the lives of numbers of human beings; even the coastguard officer and most of his men had gone that morning to a distance. Toby had, therefore, to trust to his own resources. The crew seemed utterly unable to make any effort to save themselves; indeed they saw that should they let go their hold, any moment they might be washed overboard and drowned. Toby had got a small keg, to which he fastened a line, and seemed to hope that it might be carried out by the receding wave towards the wreck, but though it went some way, another wave came in before it got far enough to be of any use, and sent it rolling back again with a coil of seaweed, mixed with sand and foam, on the beach. Toby next fastened a rope round his own waist, and seemed to contemplate the possibility of swimming off himself to the wreck, but the men round him held him back, persuading him that the risk was too great. He stood, evidently seeing that there was very little chance of success. Now another huge wave came foaming up. The crew turned their heads with a gaze of horror and alarm as they watched its approach. On it came, roaring loudly. All on board grasped with a gripe, in which the force of every sinew and muscle was exerted to the utmost, the masts and ropes to which they were holding. The wave struck the ship, shaking her huge hull to the keel, and driving her still further on the beach. One poor fellow must have had a less secure gripe than the rest, or else its fury must have been concentrated on him. It tore him from his hold, lifted him up, and as it passed over, he was seen struggling in the water. He struck out boldly. Now the roaring hissing sea carried him onward, then back again, now a side wave took him and drove him in the direction of the spot where Toby and his companions were standing. Toby signed to the men to hold the rope, and plunging in amid the foam, struck out towards the struggling seaman. Now they were separated, now they were brought nearer together. Now it seemed as if the stranger would be carried out, as had been the others, by the receding wave. But the brave fellow still struggled on. It was too evident, however, that his efforts were growing weaker and weaker. Toby sung out to him to encourage him to persevere. Toby got close to him, but just then a hissing wave went rolling back, the stranger threw up his arms in despair, and was buried beneath the foam. Toby darted forward and disappeared beneath the water.
“Oh, he is gone, he is drowned, our poor Toby!” exclaimed Digby, giving way to his feelings.
But Toby had only dived, and the next instant appeared grasping the body of the seaman, but was being carried at a fearful rate out to sea. His friends on shore hauled in, however, gently on the rope, and gradually drew him and the seaman towards them. Still, Toby had much to contend with; the sea tumbled about and broke wildly around him, and now the water would make a rush in one direction and then in another, rendering swimming almost impossible. At length the rocks were reached. Several of the fishermen who had fastened ropes to their waists, rushed into the sea to his assistance, and at length he and the nearly drowned man were hauled up on the rocks.
“Bravo! excellent, brave fellow!” exclaimed Mr Nugent, enthusiastically, “thank heaven, too, that the poor man is saved.”
Digby shouted with delight. “Oh, Toby is a grand fellow!” he exclaimed; in which sentiment he was joined by his fellow-pupils.
Meantime, Mr Nugent hurried off to be of assistance, if required, to the rescued man.
The escape of one of their shipmates seemed to give courage to the other people on board. Another man leaped off the wreck with a line, and boldly struck out for the rocks. Toby, notwithstanding his previous exertions, dashed into the sea to meet him, but whether or not he would succeed appeared very doubtful.
Meantime, another sea came rolling over the wreck. Directly afterwards, two human forms were seen struggling in the waves. Sometimes the sea carried them so close to the beach, that it seemed as if they could almost touch the sand with their feet; then out they were carried once more, and it appeared that they would be lost altogether. This was the more sad as Toby and the man, who had jumped off the wreck with the line, had almost succeeded in establishing a communication between it and the shore. One of the people got so close to them that they could see his features. He was evidently a lad, not so old as Marshall.
“I am certain I could get hold of him,” cried Digby, suddenly fastening the rope round his own waist in the way Toby had taught him. “Here, do you hold the rope tight.”
“I ought to go,” said Marshall, throwing off his jacket.
“No, no – no time to be lost – now or never,” cried Digby, rushing into the sea just as the wave, having brought the almost senseless lad close to the beach, was about to carry him off again.
Had he hesitated for a moment he would have been too late. He thought not of his own safety. On he rushed. The receding water took him off his legs. He struck out; he was turned heels over head. Still he dashed on. He was within half an arm’s-length of the drowning lad. “Oh, I must have him,” he thought to himself. He sprung on; he caught him by the collar of his jacket. “Haul away,” he sung out.
Marshall and the rest saw that he had got hold of the boy, though they could not hear him speak.
Nothing but death would have made him relinquish that grasp, he felt.
His companions hauled away, and much force was required, for so strong was the reflux of the wave that all his own strength would not have opposed it.
Almost drowned himself, and scarcely sensible, holding tight on to the boy, he at length was caught hold of by his friends, who ran up with him and his burden out of the reach of the waves.
They undid the lad’s collar and handkerchief. He was breathing, but insensible. He was as well dressed as they were, and was certainly not a poor sailor-boy, as Digby had fancied, – not that that would have made any difference, of course.
Easton ran off to call Mr Nugent, while Marshall, Power, and Norton attended to the stranger and Digby.
Meantime, they were anxiously looking out for the other person they had seen in the water. They could just distinguish him, but he had drifted a long way out, and was making no effort to save himself.
Digby very soon came to his senses, as did the boy he had so gallantly rescued. No sooner did the latter open his eyes than he looked up and exclaimed, “Oh, my father, my father; where is he?” He gazed with a countenance expressive of the greatest fear towards the ocean. Then he started up, and would have rushed back into the water, had not Marshall and Digby prevented him.
In the mean time, some more fishermen and other persons had assembled at the scene of action. One of them was noted for being a first-rate swimmer. He was somewhat of a rival, too, of Toby’s, though they were excellent friends. Fastening a rope round his waist, he plunged in and swam out boldly and strongly amid the foaming breakers towards the drowning man. When the rescued boy saw what he was doing, he was immediately calm, and kneeling down on the sand, with uplifted hands, regardless of the bystanders, was evidently praying. What mattered it to him what others thought; the life of a beloved parent was in the greatest extreme of danger. He saw clearly that no help which he could afford him or could obtain would be of any avail, and thus wisely and with right faith he sought it whence alone it could be given.
The other boys stood around. Marshall joined his prayers to those of the young stranger, that his father might be saved. Digby wished it, and would have done anything to assist the struggling man; but how to pray he knew not. It was a moment of awful suspense; he felt it so himself. How must that kneeling boy have felt it!
The brave fisherman – John Holmes was his name – swam on. He was joined by Toby, and at the same time the cask was floated out. It was let go at the light moment. The person struggling in the water saw it, and endeavoured to reach it. Twice he was washed away far off from it. No exclamation all the time was heard from the lips of his son. He gazed intently on what was going forward. Sometimes he appeared to be about to rise and rush towards the ocean; but he restrained himself, and continued kneeling. A shriek, it was one of joy, escaped him when he saw his father at length grasp hold of the cask.
The two brave fishermen now swam up near him and assisted to hold him on, while all three were hauled through the foaming surf towards the rocks.
Then, and not till then, did the young stranger rise from his knees, and hurry on towards the spot where he believed his father was about to be landed.
Those in the water were, however, still exposed to a very great danger. This was from the pieces of wreck which were dashing about in every direction, and a blow from which might prove fatal.
The boy hurried along over the slippery rocks. He got near enough to see his father’s countenance turned with eyes of affection towards him. The son knew that he was recognised, and that his father was aware of his safety. A piece of timber came dashing by. Had not the fishermen been near him, it would have torn him from his hold. As it was, Holmes received a severe blow which almost disabled him, but he held on, and in another minute all three were in the grasp of the men collected on the rock to assist them.
The first impulse of the father and his son was to throw themselves into each other’s arms, and then the father knelt down and returned thanks to Heaven for his preservation.
While this episode in the fearful history of that shipwreck was going forward, a hawser or stout rope had been carried from the stranded ship to the shore. Several seamen worked their way along it, and readied the rock in safety. Then another came, but a sea rolled by, and, sweeping him from his hold, he was carried far away out of sight.
The tide was rising, and rendering it more dangerous every moment to those remaining on the wreck. This made the seamen hurry on along the hawser. Dangerous was the transit, requiring a strong arm and firm nerves. Another huge sea came rolling in. The already shattered vessel could not withstand its force, and in a moment, as if it had been formed of the most brittle materials, was shivered into a thousand fragments, which came rolling on in tangled masses towards the shore.
Most of the men, and two of the officers, had reached the rocks; but the master and one of his mates, who had refused to leave the ship till all had left her, with two or three of the men, still remained on board at the moment she broke up. They were now seen struggling in the waves among the broken masses of the wreck.
In vain the brave fishermen dashed into the sea to save them. One after the other, struck by pieces of timber, or spars, or floating packages, were seen to go down without further efforts to save themselves. At last, one only remained alive. On him all the interest of those on shore was concentrated.
“Our captain, our captain,” cried some of the rescued crew; “oh, how can we save him? how can we save him?”
He seemed a fine old man, with a noble forehead and grey hair. He reached a spar, and threw his arms over it. Thus supported, he lifted himself out of the water, and looked calmly around, as if considering how he might best reach the shore. The spar was sent rushing on towards the beach. Many of his crew, all indeed who were uninjured, got ropes ready to dash forward to his assistance. He seemed to observe the efforts preparing to aid him. Digby was struck with the wonderful calmness of the old man. Death and destruction on every side, he seemed not for a moment to have lost his presence of mind. He fancied even that he could see him smile, as the fishermen and his own people made a rush towards him. It proved unsuccessful. He looked in no way disconcerted. Another wave came on and carried him forward; now he beckoned them to come to him; on they dashed. It was the work of a moment. They seized him by the collar of his coat, and Digby saw that they had him safely landed on the beach. Digby could not help running forward and saying —
“I am very glad that you are saved, sir.”
“Thank you, my boy,” answered the old master, “if I mistake not, you are one of the lads who saved my young Haviland there. His father will thank you, I know. I saw it all from the wreck. Nobly done, it was!”
Digby felt highly pleased at being thus praised; not that he thought that he had done any great thing after all.
The master having thus expressed himself, called the rescued people round him, and spoke a few words to them, telling them how thankful they ought to be at being saved. When he looked round and missed so many of his late shipmates, he dashed his hand across his eyes as if he felt severely their loss. “God’s will be done,” he said, in a voice trembling with agitation. It was clear that, though his nerves were strong, his heart was tender.
Mr Nugent, who had all along been attending to those who most required his aid, now came forward and invited the gentleman who had been saved and his son, as well as the old master, to his house. The chief magistrate and other authorities of Osberton undertook to look after the crew, while Toby and Holmes were appointed to take charge of the cargo which might be washed on shore.
Mr Haviland and his son, as well as Captain Burton, gladly accepted Mr Nugent’s invitation, greatly to the delight of the boys, who were eager to know where the ship had come from, and how she had been wrecked. Mr Nugent hurried them up to his house, where he had beds immediately made ready for them, into which he insisted on their getting, although the old captain protested that, for his part, he was not a bit the worse for his ducking.
That evening all the family, with the rescued strangers, were seated round Mrs Nugent’s tea-table. Mr Haviland seemed to be a very gentlemanly person, and his son, Arthur, quickly won the regards of all the party by his kind and gentle manners, his intelligence, and the affectionate and dutiful way in which he treated his father. Captain Burton was a fine old seaman; he had been so knocked about in the world, and had met with so many adventures and mishaps, that he seemed to make very light of the mere wreck of his ship, much as he grieved for the loss of so many of his crew.
“We seamen know well what we have to expect one day or other. We may well be thankful when we are able to reach the shore alive in a civilised land,” he remarked; “sad is the fate of the poor fellows who may be cast on a barren coast, or one inhabited by savages, cannibals may be, who may knock them on the head as soon as they set foot on shore. Now I hope in a few days to be at home with my wife and family, and soon to forget all my misfortunes.”
The ship had come, he told them, from South America. Owing to the thick weather, they had not made the land; though he knew that he was running up channel, he was not aware how near the shore he was when he was struck by the gale and dismasted. The ship in that condition, no seamanship was of any avail to preserve her.
The next morning he and his crew took their departure from Osberton, after he had collected all the articles of his private property which had come on shore.
Mr Haviland gladly accepted Mr Nugent’s invitation to remain some days longer, that he might sufficiently recover his strength to enable him to travel to London. Again and again he expressed his gratitude to Digby for having rescued his son from the waves, and Arthur himself endeavoured to show how much he felt, and how unable he was to repay him.
Mr Haviland was able to repay both Toby and Holmes, as well as the other men, in a more substantial mode, for the gallant way in which they had exerted themselves to save him. Remittances from London supplied him amply with funds; and all those who had assisted on the occasion of the wreck declared, that so liberal a gentleman had never before appeared in their town.
Chapter Five
Sea-Side Sports – Toby Tubb’s Naval Yarn – A Pic-nic, and what occurred at it
“You must come and stay with us when we settle,” said Arthur Haviland to Digby, the morning on which the former, with his father, was to take his departure from Mr Nugent’s. “I am to go to school, but papa intends to take a house to receive me in the holidays, when we shall expect you, and then I will tell you more about the Brazils, and the wonders of other parts of South America.”
Digby replied that if he could get leave he should be delighted to accept the invitation for a part of the holidays. “I tell you that I should not like to be away the whole time: I could not miss seeing my dear little sister Kate, and Gusty and the rest at home, on any account. I don’t fancy that I should like to be anywhere so much as at home. Oh, it is such a dear, jolly place. You must come to my home, Arthur, some day, and then you’ll see that I am right.” Such were the terms on which Digby and Arthur Haviland parted.
Digby felt very sorry and quite out of spirits when his new friend had gone. He liked Marshall, and Eastern, and Power, indeed all his companions, very much, but there was something so gentle, and amiable, and intelligent about Arthur; in many respects he was so different to himself, that he had been insensibly attracted towards him. He had been the means of saving Arthur’s life, too, and though his friend was so much older than himself, he ought to be his protector and guardian. “I wish that we had been going to the same school,” he said to himself; “Arthur is just the sort of fellow the boys will be apt to bully. How Julian would sneer at him and tease him. Even Power and Easton couldn’t help now and then having a laugh at his notions. How I should like to stand up for him, and fight his battles. I’m not very big, but I would not mind a thrashing for his sake.”
The summer was drawing to a conclusion, but still the weather was very warm. One evening Mr Nugent had been called out to visit a sick person. On his return he invited his pupils to accompany him to the beach.
“I have seldom seen the water so beautifully luminous as it is to-night,” he observed. “Bring two wide-mouthed bottles, my naturalist’s water nets, and a long pole, and we will go and fish for night shiners.”
Digby was puzzled to know what his uncle meant. The nets which Marshall produced were in shape like a landing-net, but smaller and lighter – fine gauze being used instead of the twine net. It was a dark night, and the party stumbled along over the not very well-paved streets of the little town till they reached the water. Great was Digby’s surprise to see the whole ocean covered with glowing flashes; while, as the gently rippling wavelets came rolling in, a line of light was playing over them, and as they reached the shore it broke into still greater brilliancy, leaving, as they retired, thousands of shining sparkles glittering on the smooth beach.
“What is it?” he exclaimed, after gazing for some time in mute astonishment. “What has come over the ocean?”
“A mass of phosphorescent creatures,” answered his uncle. “We will go to the deep pool (this was a quiet little bay close at hand). We shall then be able to fish up a supply for examination.”
On reaching the pool all at first appeared dark, but Mr Nugent and Marshall stooping down, swept the surface with their nets, when wherever they touched the water, it glowed with the most brilliant flashes. Having filled the bottles, they lifted the water up in the nets, when it looked as if they had got in them a lump of the most glittering gold, or a mass of molten lead. A still more beautiful appearance was produced when they threw the water up in the air and it came down in glittering showers, like the dropping stars from a firework.
“Glorious! beautiful!” shouted Digby; “I did not think the sea could produce anything so fine.”
Then they stirred the water about with a long pole, till the whole pool, which had been in tranquillity so dark, became like a caldron of boiling metal. After amusing themselves with the variety of effects to be produced, the party returned homeward.
“What is the use of all that shining stuff, now, I wonder?” said Digby.
“I am glad to hear you ask the question,” replied his uncle. “That shining stuff is called the phosphorescence of the ocean. It is composed of numberless minute animals, each not larger than a pin’s head. Through a microscope we should see that all parts of the animal shine, but at different times. It emits, as it were, sparks, now from one part of its body, now from another. It is a very beautiful object, especially in southern latitudes, and that alone may account for its creation; just as birds with gay plumage, and flowers of varied hues and sweet scents, were formed for the benefit of man. It wonderfully relieves, also, on a dark night, the obscurity of the ocean, and its light is so great during storms that it enables seamen the better to perform the duties of the ship. Of one thing you may be certain, that nothing is created in nature without a very adequate object.”
On reaching home, Mr Nugent got out his microscope, and exhibited to Digby the wonders of the creatures they had caught. Power had also brought home a bucketful of water. It contained, among other creatures, a little melon-shaped animal, which Mr Nugent turned into a glass tumbler. It was smaller than a small hazel nut, of a transparent consistency, and with bands down it like the divisions in a melon. These bands, when the tumbler was shaded, glittered in the most beautiful way, while the creature moved about in the water, now rising to the surface, and now sinking almost to the bottom. When again brought to the light, it was seen putting forth what Digby called its fishing lines. These, when it was on the surface, reached to the bottom, and were evidently employed for the object Digby supposed.
“This beautiful little creature is called a Cydippe or Beroë,” observed Mr Nugent. “Those bands are denominated cilia. See, they are like little paddles. They are the means by which the animal moves. Now look – he has turned his head down, and away he plunges to the bottom; now he rises slowly, like a balloon. I doubt not that there is much enjoyment even in that little mass of jelly. Wonderful are all God’s works. Who can measure the happiness which exists even in an atom.”
Digby became far more interested than, a few weeks before, he would have thought possible. At the same time he did not take in all the remarks his uncle and Marshall made. He would have found it impossible to describe the curious marine animals they showed him. At the same time the impression left on his mind was beneficial, as he in that way learned to comprehend the fact of the existence of the numberless wonders of nature, and to regard them with interest and respect. Although he could not manage to recollect a single one of the hard names he heard, he surely was better off than a person who remains ignorant that even such things exist.
The day after the Noctilucae had exhibited their brightness on the sea in so remarkable a degree, a heavy gale sprung up and blew on the shore for some hours with great violence.
“I hope no other shipwreck happened last night,” said Digby, as they got up in the morning.
“I hope not,” answered Marshall. “We should have heard of it before this. But if you will come down with me to the beach, by and by, we shall find that other floating things have been wrecked, and that the sea has cast them up in great numbers on the shore.”
As soon as lessons were over the boys set out. Digby was now quite eager for anything of the sort. They had not gone far along the beach when Marshall pounced on a dark-looking mass, which he put into his jar.
“What nasty thing is that?” exclaimed Digby, looking at it with disgust.
“Nasty! no; it is a magnificent Holothuria, or sea-cucumber. Toby would call it a sea-pudding. It will look very different when it is in my vivarium, let me tell you. It now looks like a great bag, but the outside of that bag is covered with numbers of suckers, by which it is able to crawl about at a rapid rate; while in the inside are its head and intestines, and all its fishing apparatus.”
“I should like to see it in full action,” said Digby. “But I say, Marshall, what are all those lumps of jelly? Are they good to eat? They look as if they would be, boiled a little, perhaps.”
Marshall laughed heartily. “I doubt if even the Chinese attempt to eat them. If they do, they must eat them raw, for even in the air they very soon dissolve. Those are Medusae, or jelly-fish, or sea-nettles. The first English name they obtain from their appearance, the second on account of the property they possess of stinging; and that you would soon discover if, when you were bathing, one of them got his long arms round you.”
“Arms, surely they have not got arms?” said Digby.
“Indeed they have, and very long arms, too, with which they can catch all sorts of prey. They have mouths and all internal arrangements, and, soft and gelatinous as they appear, they can consume animals of a much higher organisation than themselves. You would not suppose that they could gobble up crabs, yet they can do so without the slightest difficulty. They have also the property of giving forth light. You may see them by thousands floating about near the surface of the water, in shape like small umbrellas, and moving up and down just as if a heart beat beneath. You will find them often in the river when the flood-tide is coming in; and when we go on our trawling expedition we shall see numbers of them.”
Digby, notwithstanding what Marshall had told him, had not quite made up his mind about them; and as he had brought a basket in which to carry curiosities, he put several of them into it.
“Ah, here are some of the things I admire,” exclaimed Digby, picking up a star-fish. “They are curious.”
“Not more so than many others,” answered Marshall. “Yet I agree with you, that they are very curious indeed. You would not suppose that they can crawl along at the bottom of the sea at a considerable rate, and that they are the most voracious of marine animals. They have a big mouth in the centre of the lower side; and those star-like arms supply them with food. They progress by means of suckers, with which the whole of the lower part of their bodies is covered. They are the scavengers of the ocean; and it is wonderful the amount of animal food they can consume, which would otherwise tend to putrefy the ocean itself. Another curious circumstance about them is, that when one or more of their rays are broken off, fresh ones are produced; indeed, I have seen it stated in print that a single ray has produced the mouth and the other rays, and then that the old ray has fallen off, and that a new star-fish, in its perfect proportions, has been thus reformed.”
“I dare say what you tell me is all true,” said Digby; “but it is very hard to believe.”
“I am only telling you what I have heard from others, though I have observed some of the facts myself,” answered Marshall. “See, now; what do you call that?” he added, holding up a very perfect Echinus.
“A sea-egg, of course,” answered Digby. “But I own that it has always puzzled me how any fish can manage to lay an egg covered with spines.”
“It is not an egg at all; it is much more properly called a sea-urchin or a sea-hedgehog. It is allied to the star-fish. By means of these spines it can move about with great ease; they serve also as its protection. The covering is most curious: it is composed of several hundred pentagonal plates. By a process going on continually from the inside, each one of these plates is enlarged by a fresh deposit; and thus, without altering their shape, the animal, as it grows, has its coat of armour growing also.”
