Kitabı oku: «The Little School-Mothers», sayfa 13

“Oh, it isn’t so easy,” said Poor Jane.

“You want your five pounds, don’t you?” said Harriet, with a sneer.

“Yes, I want it awfully. I heard from Bobbie and Miriam this morning and – ”

“I don’t want to hear about those tiresome children. Now let us come to the boat; they are calling us: don’t you hear them?”

Book Two – Chapter Twelve
Edged Tools

Mr Durrant’s prophecies with regard to the weather turned out true. The “Sea-Gull” made with some difficulty into Yarmouth harbour, where it remained snugly ensconced for the night. But even there, although securely at anchor, it tossed about a good deal, and none of the children slept particularly well.

Towards morning, however, the storm abated: the wind went down almost as suddenly as it rose, and Mr Durrant determined to take the yacht as far as Totland Bay, and to give the children a run on the shore. They were all pleased with this decision, and when they landed on the pier, were much delighted to find themselves again on terra firma.

The day was a very hot one; and, except for the swell after the storm, all traces of the tempest of the preceding night had vanished. The entire party went into the hotel for lunch, and afterwards took a long walk on the beach in the direction of the far-famed Needles.

It was so fine and warm that the girls begged to be allowed to bathe. There was a sheltered cove about a mile beyond Totland Bay where they could go into the water; and all the party, provided with their bathing things, started on their expedition.

Harriet and Jane walked on a little in front of the others: Robina, on this occasion, found herself with the Amberley girls: Mr Durrant, Patience and Frederica Chetwold and Ralph brought up the rear. Jane turned now and spoke eagerly to Harriet.

“I have thought of something,” she said.

“Well, what is it?” asked Harriet.

“We are all going to bathe, aren’t we?”

“I suppose so,” said Harriet: “not that I much care for the look of the water,” she added. “There is an awful swell, and I remember my father once telling me that there were strong currents all round this part of the coast. Only very good swimmers ought to go out; but of course we are safe enough, those of us who choose to stay in our depths.”

“Yes,” – said Jane – “those of us who choose; but you won’t, you know – it will be your chance.”

“My chance? of what?” asked Harriet.

“Why, of proving what you want to prove to Mr Durrant.”

Harriet turned and looked full at her companion. It is true she was a good swimmer, and she was not a coward; but she knew enough about the water to understand that even the best swimmer cannot cope against a sea which is still perturbed by a recent storm. She said, after a pause:

“I always knew you were clever enough, Jane, when you chose to put your brains in soak. Now, what is your thought? Out with it.”

“Well,” said Jane; “it is this way. They’re all going to bathe – all of them – Ralph and Mr Durrant, and all the girls. You coax Ralph to get a little out of his depth, and then you save him. Why, it’s done as easy as possible. Why, Mr Durrant, he’ll feel then just as Ralph feels for you – that there’s nothing in all the world that he won’t do for you, and Robina won’t be in it at all.”

Harriet was so astonished at these words, that she stood stock-still and turned and stared at her companion.

“But if Mr Durrant is in the water himself, he will save Ralph. Besides, he won’t allow him to go out of his depth; he will just keep him to himself. Why, Ralph is the apple of his eye, you goose!”

“Yes,” said Jane; “but suppose he isn’t with him.”

“Now what are you talking about?”

“If something was to happen to make him go back and just let the rest of us wait in the cove for him and oh! I know that I am a very bad girl; but I think that if you were to make up a message of some sort he might go back to the yacht, and while he is away, we could go into the water, and then you will do that fine, splendid thing and – and – all will be right.”

“Yes,” said Harriet; “yes.” She looked at the sea. Each moment the waves seemed to be going down; there were no “white horses” anywhere. The whole sea as far as the distant horizon was a blue expanse. There was not much, if any, danger, and people said it was so safe to bathe in the cove, which they were approaching. “But what can we do to make Mr Durrant go back?” said Harriet.

“I have thought of that too,” said Jane, her colour changing. “You remember the letter you got about your father?”

“The letter that reached me this morning?”

“Yes, you said he was ill.”

“Oh, dad is often ill,” said Harriet; “I mean that he is fanciful.”

“Well,” said Jane; “let’s pretend for the time at least that he is not fanciful, and that you are nervous about him, and that you want to hear, and that you think there may be a telegram waiting for you on board the ‘Sea-Gull.’ Mr Durrant is so kind that he would think nothing of going back to find out, and I would speak to him my own self if you would let me. Do let me, please do, Harriet!”

“You want your five pounds,” said Harriet. “It’s a jolly mean way to earn it. But still, I suppose, we are both as mean as we can be and the idea in itself may succeed. I have asked you to manage this thing for me, Janie, it is only fair, as you get such a lot of money by it, so do your best, now; I leave it in your hands.”

The moment Harriet said this, Jane rushed away from her. She joined Mr Durrant, and they talked together for some minutes with great apparent earnestness. Meanwhile, Ralph rushed up to Harriet.

“Isn’t the day lovely?” he said; “won’t it be nice when we are bobbing up and down in the water? I’ll show you how well I can swim, Harriet. I can swim, you know, but I can float better than I can swim.”

“You must be careful not to go out of your depth,” said Harriet. “Of course you can swim, although you are such a little boy, and when you are tired, your father will let you ride on his back. What fun that will be! Your father is so strong, and big.”

“Yes, isn’t he just splendid?” said Ralph.

At that moment, Jane came back.

“Mr Durrant has gone to the yacht,” she whispered to Harriet, “but he doesn’t wish any of us to bathe until he returns.”

Ralph, who was quite uninterested in Jane’s whispered communication now ran down to the edge of the water and began to amuse himself shying pebbles into the sea.

“Of course there will be no telegram,” said Harriet to Jane. “Father’s in all probability as well as usual, still, that was a good idea of yours, and it isn’t likely to be found out.”

“I don’t think it is likely,” said Jane. “I am awfully wicked,” she continued, “and it is you, Harriet, who have made me so. I told Mr Durrant that you were almost certain a telegram would come. It was a lie, of course, but I have done it for Bobbie’s sake, and Miriam’s sake, and now you have got to earn my five pounds for me; now is your chance.”

“But you have spoilt it with that message,” said Harriet. “Mr Durrant said we were none of us to bathe until he came back.”

“You must bathe,” said Jane. “I am going to pretend that I forgot all about the message. You must act as though you never got it.”

“Then you, Jane, will be punished.”

“I can only be in disgrace,” said Jane; “and I don’t mind if I get my money. In any case, I shan’t bathe; I am going to walk about very slowly along the beach, and will wait for you near the yacht. If any of the sailors see me, they will take me on board, and I can wait for you there. I shall be much too miserable to look on. Don’t let Ralph go far into the sea – just a wee, wee bit out of his depth: then catch him very quickly; only be sure you let Robina and the other girls see you do it. Things will be all right for us both now, won’t they?”

“Yes,” said Harriet, in an excited tone. She too felt that her chance had come. Her conscience was dulled to sleep. Not for worlds would she awaken it.

Jane immediately began to walk back to Totland Bay, and Harriet turned to the other girls who had come up now to join her.

“When,” – said Ralph, who was softly jumping up and down and holding Vivian’s hand – “when is we all going into the nice, cool, lovely blue water?”

“But where can Mr Durrant be?” said Robina.

“He said that he would come with us because the current would certainly be a little strong to-day. Perhaps we had better not bathe.”

“Oh, of course those who are frightened need not bathe,” said Harriet: “but I am going into the water for one.”

“But where is father? where is my father?” asked Ralph.

“He has gone,” said Harriet, “out of great kindness to me to find out if a telegram has come on board the ‘Sea-Gull’ to tell me about my own father, who isn’t well. Isn’t it good of him?”

“Just like father,” said Ralph. “And is your father very, very bad, Harriet?”

“Oh, I hope he is much better now,” said Harriet. “But he sometimes does get ill, and then of course I am anxious.”

“’Course you are, poor Harriet,” said Ralph, taking her hand and stroking it softly.

“Well, girls,” said Harriet, looking at the others; “who’s going to bathe, and who isn’t?”

Two or three elected to get into their bathing things, and go into the water. The little cove was absolutely sheltered. The water was like glass. Some of the children were accustomed to sea-bathing, some were not. Harriet began eagerly to question.

“Who can swim?” she asked.

“I can,” said Frederica.

“And I a little bit,” said Rose Amberley.

“And I can’t,” said Robina; “but all the same, I am going to bathe if the rest of you do.”

“And who said you were not to bathe?” asked Harriet. “It will do you good, I think, for you look so hot and dusty.”

“Yes, I believe it would do me a lot of good,” said Robina, and as she spoke she took off her hat and twisting up her thick hair, knotted it firmly at the back of her head.

The girls then packed their bathing things, and Robina, Harriet and the others prepared to get into the water. Little Ralph, looking prettier than he had ever done before, in a little tight-fitting brown bathing suit, skipped about on the edge of the waves.

“Oh! won’t it be jolly!” he cried; “won’t it be jolly in the water! Come, Harriet.”

On his lips the words were almost bubbling, “You can swim splendid,” but he kept them back.

“Let me hold your hand, Ralph,” said Robina. “We mustn’t go far because your father is not with us, and your father wouldn’t like it.”

“Nonsense!” said Harriet, who was standing up to her knees in the water, which was quite warm, and as still as possible. “Those who are cowards,” she said, “need not come on; but from the little I know of Mr Durrant, I should say that of all things in the world, he would wish Ralph to prove himself a brave boy. Come along with me, Ralph; hold my hand; poor silly Robina can’t swim, you know.”

“Can’t you, Robina? Oh, I forgot,” said Ralph. He looked pityingly at her.

“I can swim quite a little bit,” he said. “Father taught me; only I can’t keep up very long, but leastways I can float. Can’t you even float, Robina? You has to turn on your back – so.”

As Ralph spoke, he suited the action to the words, lying perfectly still on his back, his head slightly lower than his chest. Harriet laughed; put her hand under the said little head, and forced him on to his feet again.

“Why, you are a splendid boy,” she said. “You and I will see together what we can do. The water is quite warm. Now, Ralph, you know the stroke. Come along; I will help you. All of you who can swim, come with me, won’t you. I thought before I got into the water that the current might be a little strong, but I see I am mistaken. We can easily go as far as the entrance to the cove. What fun it will be to look at the outside world from the edge of the cove.”

Harriet began to swim out boldly, and Ralph for a time kept pace with her, laughing as he did so. Suddenly, a girl cried out:

“Don’t go any further, Harriet; there’s a fisherman beckoning to us. Turn back, Harriet; turn back!” Harriet turned quickly. She saw a man on the cliff gesticulating and waving his hand. She looked at Ralph. Ralph was still swimming close to her. The other girls had not even gone out of their depths. Robina, however, with her face white as death, was struggling into deep water.

“No, no!” cried Harriet. “Turn back, turn back, Robina! It’s all right – it really is. Don’t come any further, you’ll be drowned if you do!”

“Ralph, Ralph, Ralph!” pleaded Robina. “Come back to me, come back!”

The little boy looked at her and smiled.

“Don’t be frightened,” he said. “I is all right. I is just going as far as Harriet, and then I’ll swim back to you. It’s lovely in the water, it is so warm and – ”

A tiny white curling wave came up to him at that moment as though it were a play-fellow and broke over him as though it were laughing at him, and carried him imperceptibly so far from Harriet that she could no longer reach out her hand to touch him. Oh, still of course he was quite safe. He was nowhere near the entrance to the cove, and even though there was another white wave coming on, he was safe, as safe could be. But why had all the waves in a moment, as it were, got little tiny white crests on them? and why was the sea not quite so blue? and why was there a wind which took the heat out of the water? Why had all these things happened? But of course there was not the slightest danger? Still, perhaps Harriet might as well keep near to Ralph. She wanted him to be in a little bit of danger. She wanted him to cry out to her, and then she wanted to catch him and bring him back, and she wanted the people on the shore to say: “Well done, Harriet! Well done, brave, brave girl! You have saved the little chap’s life!”

So she delayed, trifling just a minute, and now another play-fellow wave – a bigger and a rougher one than the first two, caught the gallant tiny swimmer, and turned him right over this time and suddenly filled his lungs with water. Ralph threw up his arms. There was a sharp scream from the girls on the shore. Harriet saw the fisherman flying down from the cliffs above, and, turning herself, swam as fast as ever she could in Ralph’s direction. But now she was about to test her own foolhardiness, for alas! poor little Ralph had got into the current – one of those terribly dangerous currents which have wrecked not only brave swimmers, but even boats at sea when they got within the neighbourhood of the treacherous Needles.

The little brown head bobbed one minute on the surface of the waves and then disappeared. Harriet gave a frantic cry. She swam after the boy, putting out all her strength. Her hand was stretched out, and when he reappeared, she caught him by his little bathing suit.

By this time, one of the fishermen had got into the water, and a minute or two later, both girl and boy were lying exhausted on the beach.

“You did a mighty silly thing, young folks – daring to go into the water on a day like this!” said the man. “Why, little master was just drownding!”

“O Harriet!” said Frederica; “you were brave!” Harriet heard the words, and then sank away into a swoon. Had she earned her reward? These were the last thoughts she took with her into the world of unconsciousness.

When she came to herself, Mr Durrant was bending over her. Ralph, very pale, but quite well, was seated close to her side and all the other girls were gazing at her from a respectful distance.

“I don’t understand this story at all,” said Mr Durrant. “Sit up, Harriet, my dear. You have received a great shock; you must drink some of this.” He held a cup of hot coffee to her lips. One of the fishermen had brought it from his own cottage near by.

“Now, that’s better,” said Mr Durrant, when the girl had sipped a little and looked round her. “But, my dear Harriet, my last instructions were that none of you were to go into the water. Of course, I know what a dangerous coast this is, and after the storm of last night, you ran the most fearful risk.”

“But she was brave! she was noble! She did, she did try to save me!” said Ralph, clasping Harriet’s hand and fondling it as his brown eyes filled with tears.

“Oh yes; that is quite true,” said Mr Durrant. He spoke quietly. “Still,” he said, “I don’t understand why my message was disobeyed.”

“But we never heard anything about it. We shouldn’t have dreamed of going into the water,” said Frederica, “if we had known that you did not approve.”

“I told Jane that you were none of you to bathe until I came back. Harriet, there is no telegram from your father: you must consider no news as good news.”

“Oh yes,” said Harriet, in a faint voice. She took Ralph’s hand and whispered to him: “Stay close to me. When you are close to me, I won’t be seeing all the time your little head going under the water.”

“We have a great deal to be thankful for,” said Mr Durrant.

“But I cannot understand Jane Bush. She seemed in great distress about you, Harriet, and said that you were fretting terribly about your father. She wanted herself to go back to try and get news from the yacht, but of course I offered to go. Still, I gave implicit directions that you were none of you to bathe. Where is Jane?”

“I think she had a headache,” said Harriet. “Anyhow, she said she would go back and stay near the yacht. She thought, perhaps, one of the boatmen would see her and take her on board.”

“And she never gave you my message?”

“Certainly not,” said Harriet.

“Well, my dear,” said Mr Durrant after a pause, “I am exceedingly sorry that this should have happened; but nevertheless we have much to be thankful for. I have given that poor brave sailor what I hope he will consider a suitable reward. And now, children, I think we will get back to the yacht: the sooner Harriet lies down the better. I can see, my dear, that your own head is aching badly.”

“It is; I feel queer and rather sick,” said Harriet.

“I have ordered a waggonette to meet us, and we will drive back to Totland Bay: you are all much too tired to walk,” said Mr Durrant; “all except you, you plucky little man,” he added, looking at his little son. “You don’t seem a bit the worse.”

“I wasn’t a bit frighted, father,” said Ralph, speaking with great excitement, “’cause I knew.”

“What did you know, my boy?”

“That Harriet would save me, ’cause she,” – the words came out with a rush – “did it afore!”

Everyone looked at Harriet, who turned very pale. “Is this the second time you have saved Ralph, my dear Harriet?” asked Mr Durrant.

“Ralph?” said Harriet. “You know you ought not to speak – ”

“Don’t ask her, father,” said Ralph.

“I ask her nothing. She has saved your life this time, that I can testify. You are a brave girl, Harriet; forgive me for having doubted you. Bravery like yours must be accompanied by other noble traits of character. I will say no more for the present except to add that you ran a terrible risk, and that whatever your good intentions, you could not possibly have saved Ralph but for the aid of that brave sailor who brought you both back to shore.”

The said sailor now appeared on the scene to announce the approach of the carriage which was to convey the party to the yacht. They all got in, and in a short time were back again on board the “Sea-Gull.” The first person they saw when they stood on the deck of the pretty little yacht was Jane, whose white face and anxious eyes would have told too much of her story had not Harriet rushed up to her, squeezed her hand and managed to whisper:

“It is all right; and you have but to say boldly now that you forgot to give me the message about not bathing.”

“Is that you, Jane Bush?” said Mr Durrant at that moment.

“Yes, sir,” said Jane, coming forward.

Harriet gave her fingers a squeeze. That squeeze seemed to say:

“Five pounds will be yours – five beautiful, lovely, golden sovereigns! Don’t lose your courage now.”

“I particularly gave you a message, Jane, when you were so anxious for me to return to the yacht on Harriet’s behalf. Did you forget it?”

“What message, sir?” asked Jane.

“I requested the young people – in fact, I did much more than request, I desired the young people not on any account to go into the water until my return.”

“O, sir – so you did!” said Jane.

“And you never gave the message?”

“No, sir,” said Jane, dropping her head.

“And why not, pray? It was very important.”

“I – I had a headache, sir.”

“You – in fact – forgot?”

“Yes, Mr Durrant, I – I forgot,” said Jane.

“Another time, please remember. You might be an intensely miserable girl now but for the exceeding bravery of a man who happened to see our little party from one of the cliffs. Two lives were in extreme danger – the life of your own special friend, Harriet Lane, and the life of my little son. Harriet was bravest of the brave, and did manage to come to his rescue and to hold his head above water at the critical moment, but neither of the children could have possibly resisted the current had not this man swum into the water in his clothes and brought them back to land. So be more careful in future, Jane, that is all.” Mr Durrant turned away.

“You have earned your five pounds, I am sure and certain of that,” said Harriet to her companion on the evening of that same day.