Caught by the tide

Front matter

■ ■ Caught by the Tide. BY ALISON L. GARLAND, LONDON : SWAN SONNENSCHEIN, LOWREY & CO., PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 18SS. S. Cowan Js Co., General Printers, Perth. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAt;K I. AT ILFRACO.MBE ... ... ... ... ... 1 II. IN THE COTTAGE BY THE SEA ... ... ... 12 ill. CHANGES ... ... ... ... ... ... 24 IV. GOLDEN DREAMS ... ... ... ... ... 40 V. A HARD CHOICE ... ... ... ... ... 53 VI. A BLIGHTED HOPE... ... ... ... ... 79 VII. MILES MINGOTTI ... ... ... ... ... 115 VIII. BRIGANDAGE ... ... ... ... ... 151 IX. ON THE APENNINES ... ... ... ... ] 85 X. "THAT LONELY GRAVE" 202 XI. GOING HOME ... ... ... ... ...213 XII. SUNSHINE AT LAST... ... ... ... ••■

Chapter I. At Ilfracombe

" Yet better," one said, "to die like this In a moment, while life and hope were bliss, Than to live to find that the Syren's kis3 Is the type of this world of ours, That friendships vanish and joys depart, And the noblest, bravest, and truest heart Is ever the first that must feel the smart Of the serpent among the flowers." I WAS staying at Ilfracombe, for a few7 clays, during my fortnightly summer's holiday, with my only brothers, Arthur and Ernest Delafont. It was the first time we had been in Devonshire, and delightful, nay rapturous, did the wild scenery and rugged rocks of North Devon appear to our eyes, that had looked for so long on the crowded streets and quiet suburbs of Bristol. We were basking in the sun's hot rays on the Wildersmouth Beach, watching the interesting groups that always gather at the sea-side — prettily dressed children, digging on the sands ; fine little boys / A wading in the ebbing-tide, or throwing stones in the clear blue depths of the waters of the Bristol Channel ; ladies with their work or books, chatting or reclin ing in some rocky nook ; young men, like ourselves, who, enjoying a much-needed holiday, seemed to find their greatest pleasure in simply doing nothing, acquiescently allovdng the sun to tan their faces, that all the world in town might see, on their return, that they had been to the sea side.

"I say, Stanley," said Arthur, "how long do you intend to remain lying here ? " " Till we have made up our minds where to go. Suppose we take a walk to Hillsborough." " Yes, but as we have been there once, I should like better to go past Hillsborough Terrace, across the Quay Fields to Hele," he replied. "There are clouds in the West and the wind is rising," [remarked Ernest. " I don't think we had better go so far this evening. Let us have a walk on the Tors." A single suggestion turned our choice, for we had no special object in view ; but what a long chain of events, that has changed the whole course of my life, hung on our decision that afternoon. On such small hinges does fate hang ! " To the Tors walks. Agreed ; and we can get down on the beach from there and Ernest can pick up some shells."

We started off in high good humour. We were only three, and had been left orphans early in life. I was twenty-three, Arthur twenty-two, and Ernest two years younger. We walked lazily on At Ilfracombe. 3 over those lofty hills rising some four hundred feet, to the west, on the coast line ; round and round the majestic cliffs, with the wide expanse of sea-view below us. The sea was looking splendid, not as smooth as a lake, nor rough as the ocean, but with just a spirited little wave, here and there, rising with a white curl to the surface, and playing at hide and seek with its playmates. A fresh north breeze was blowing, ex hilarating our spirits and refreshing our brows, and we agreed in declaring that we were indeed having a splendid time. " What about my shells ? " said Ernest, after a full hour's walk.

" Shall we go down to that little cove below and get some ? " " I thought you gathered enough, in the Tunnels, this morning to have stocked a museum," exclaimed Arthur. " In numbers, no doubt, but the quality w7as in ferior. I did not get the kind which I most wanted, so I shall try down there." "How are we to get there?" asked Arthur. The cliff was grassy, but steep. Steps had been made to descend to the shore, but they had been partially swept away by the violence of the sea, for the wind is surprisingly rough in that headland in wild weather. We were tolerably good climbers, and what youth was ever restrained from descending a craggy angle of eighteen feet or so, that would have at least furnished a footing for goats ? " Who will be down first ? " I shouted, rapidly descending the cliff, the others following, 'and with a bit of hand to hand clutching of shrubs and ragged rocks, finishing up with a leap of eight or nine feet, we found ourselves safely landed on the pebble shore.

Ernest immediately commenced picking up some shells, but as that was not one of the hobbies that I was fond of riding, I sat down and tried to pick a quarrel with Arthur about the turn of the tide. The water was at low ebb; I said it was going out, he maintained it was coming in. It is surprising how obstinate some people are about trifles, especially those that have nothing but indifferent matters to occupy their thoughts. Glad of some vent for our overflow ing vitality, we warmly discussed this important matter for some length of time, till Ernest returned saying, " I have all I want. Shall we return ? We have a steep bit of climbing before us." To this, all agreed, and by the aid of our hands, as well as our feet, we attempted to ascend the steep bit of cliff. Arthur, the tallest of us, was up first and lying prostrate on a projecting bit of rock, he held his hand out, offering to pull us up.

Ernest was near, and availing himself of the offer was soon standing on the flat part of the cliff, whilst I was nearly up to them. I had one foot on the stem of a shrub, and another on a mossy stone. " Quick, Art, give me a pull," I ex claimed, springing forward towards him. His hand was outstretched to meet mine, when the stone beneath my feet gave way ; I slipped and fell back in the cove below. The fall might have been serious, and Arthur shouted to know if I were hurt. "Not much," I answered, attempting to rise, but a sharp At Ilfracombe. 5 pain prevented me, and I called out I had sprained my ankle. My brothers were immediately at my side, and taking off my boot, Ernest bathed my foot with the salt water from a pool on the shore, whilst Arthur went round to the other side of the cove on an ex ploring expedition to see if there were any other means of ascending the Tors, than by climbing up the steep place where the steps had once been.

He came back saying there was another opening to the land, round the corner, but we would have to make haste or we would be caught by the tide, which was slowly but surely rolling in. Everybody knows that a sprained ankle is some times more painful than a fractured limb ; I would have preferred lying still for a while, but the incoming tide was facing me. I must make an effort, so, leaning on my brother's arm, I limped along as fast as my painful foot, which was rapidly swelling, would allow, and soon we had left the cove behind us and were making our way back, along the shore, to an easy ascent to the Tors. Our progress was, of course, slow but I felt no sense of clanger, until as we passed on and nothing but tall, precipitous cliffs rose on our right hand, and the dashing waves on the left, I saw by Ernest's knitted brow and anxious glances at the perpendicular rocks that he was getting afraid of something.

" Arthur," he said, " I will stay with Stanley, while you run on round that corner and see if there is any pathway up those cliffs ; the tide is coming in fast, we have no time to lose." Arthur took the hint and was soon lost to sight. " I will try to w7alk faster, Ernest, but my foot never plagued me so in my life." The attempt cost me in ward pangs, but I, too, was getting nervous, and I hastened along at a pace dangerous for the peace of my ankle. Arthur had not returned by the time we reached the jutting rock that hid our view of the hills round Ufracombe ; but no sooner wras the corner passed than he came running up frantically to us, exclaiming excitedly : " Stanley, Ernest, we must go back at once ; there is no retreat behind me for we are caught by the tide. Follow me as quickly as you can, while I see if we can reach the little cove w7e have just left."

And he rushed past us without waiting for an answer. " Leave me, Ernest, and save yourself," I said anxiously, for I knew it was utterly impossible for me to run, and had an inward conviction that by this time the tide would have almost cut off our entrance to the cove. " Never," said Ernest, firmly ; " lean heavier on my arm and let us make all the haste w7e possibly can ; we may yet be in time." It is scarcely necessary to say that vre made all possible speed, but before we reached that little cove, Arthur met us saying that the tide had completely cut off that last retreat and our only chance now was to arrest the attention of someone on land or sea, and be saved b}7 a boat on the swelling waters. We looked anxiously around : the wind was risino and the crested waves dashed higher and higher.

There At Ilfracombe. 7 were two fishing-boats and one yacht to be seen, but they were so far off that they looked like dots on the face of the darkening waters ; and the tall, almost perpendicular, rocks around us prevented our seeing but a distant portion of the Tors above us, and not a single individual was in sight. It was seven o'clock by our watches; the sun had sunk and light grey clouds were sailing across the cold, pale blue sky at a pace that indicated the wind was rapidly getting high. We were not w7eather-wise sailors, but even we knew a storm was nijrh. We looked at each other's blanched faces and set our brains to work as to the best plan of getting saved, for hope is strong in the soul of youth, and we could not bring ourselves to feel, that, though we were in imminent danger, w7e might perish before the light had waned, in sight of safety, yet so far from it.

" Arthur," I said, " you can swim fairly well, suppose you swim round to that shingle cove and climb that steep place where I fell and get assistance from the shore." His face brightened at the proposal, and throwdng off his boots and coat he prepared for a plunge without a moment's delay. " Ernest, perhaps you had better go too." " No, Stanley, I won't leave you — besides I'm but an indifferent swimmer ; I don't think I should succeed in breasting those w7aves. I say, how strong and high they are getting ! " " I would venture the swimming," I answ7ered, " but I am morally certain I could not climb those over hanging rocks with this ankle, besides, the sea will have swept round that place where I fell and the other rocks would be still stiffer to ascend." Arthur turned to say, " Hold on there you two for a bit ; I shall be sure to send some one soon."

" All right. Good-bye, Arthur." " Don't say good-bye," he answered, hastily ; " keep close to that inner cliff and I will bring help in time. Cheer up, old fellows, I shall climb like a monkey and run like a deer and be back with a boat before your feet are wet ; " and he plunged in the wdiite spray and was soon lost to sight. We were left alone, and at Ernest's suggestion we shouted for help, but our voices only found an echo in the hollow rocks ; and the roaring w7aves and whistling wind seemed to mock us in our despair, for the tide was coming in rapidly, and we each felt, but forbore to speak our fears, that the water would be above our heads before help could possibly come. It was the first time in our lives that we had been face to face with death, and only those who have been in that situation can tell how solemn a thing it is to look on sea and land and sky and feel that we do so for the last time, to watch the fading colours in the west and know that, before the glorious hues of another dawn should streak the eastern sky, wre should be beyond the sun.

When we had shouted till we were hoarse we returned to the innermost corner of the small sandy bay, and Ernest tried to discover some place of elevation in the o'erhanging rocks surrounding us. By dint of much labour and time we succeeded in climbing on a narrow shelf of rock a few feet above the shore, but even At Ilsracombe. 9 then, by the wet slimy sea-weed, we knew the waters at high tide would reach us there, still it would take longer to do so and time was everything to us at that moment. The wind was rising higher and higher, c> eD O ' and already we were almost w7et through by the spray of the angry waves that clashed violently against the solid rocks ; the light was fading, and here and there a twinkling star appeared through the rifts in the heavy clouds. " Are you afraid, Ernest ?

" I asked presently. " I think, Stanley," he answered steadily, " that there is very little hope of help reaching us in time, but if the worst comes, I'm not afraid to meet it." " Nor I, and yet it seems so hard to leave this world which is so bright and beautiful ; life seems so fair to each of us. How little we thought to be cut off so suddenly from the land of the living. Only this morning we were full of life and health, and now7 this very night our bodies may be washed to sea, stiffened corpses," and a cold shiver ran through my frame at the bare idea. A shower of spray dashed over us, preventing our speaking ; breathless we wiped our faces with our wet silk handkerchiefs, and stiff, and numb, and cold, we strained our eyes for the sight of a sail on the black waters before us. We saw one but it wras far out to sea, evidently a pleasure yacht returning from an excursion to Lundy Island or Clovelly, and was making straight for Ilsracombe harbour, not coming within sound of our voices, that were lost midst the noise of rushing waters.

The waves reached our feet, and soon — yet how long the time seemed — we were up to the waist in water. It was almost dark; if help came we doubted whether we could be found. Being taller than Ernest, I stood upright and waved my handkerchief to attract the notice of any that might pass by, whilst he clung with one arm to the rock and the other flung round my waist to prevent the shock of a great wave sweeping us entirely away. My arm was aching terribly, my strength w7as ebbing, and my head grew dizzy and faint. "I cannot hold out any longer, Ernest; I must give in. "While there is life there is hope, Stanley. Hold on a little more — stay. Look. I saw something dark move on the waters : what was it ? " I strained my eyes eagerly and cried exultingly, " A boat ! a boat ! " "Thank God!" ejaculated Ernest, and then he shouted with all his remaining strength to the men in it.

They heard us for they steered our way, but the difficulty was to bring their boat near enough to the rock on which we stood without it being dashed to pieces by the violence of the waves. Twice, nay, three times, did they make the attempt and were driven back violently by the strength of a retreating wave, when once more they rowed towards us. The waters had more than once completely covered Ernest's head, and almost choked me as I attempted to shout. Arthur was in the boat, pulling at the oar with such vigour that his muscles stood out like whip-cord on his brow. Beside him wras a fisherman and a lad about twelve years of age. With marvellous effort they reached Al Ilsracombe. 11 the spot w7here w7e were. " Leave go that rock,' yelled Arthur, "and jump in the boat." We did so, and gave a spring — a leap for life — to wards the boat.

A violent wave came rushing up the same moment ; as we clung to the boat on one side, the wave elevated the other, and, in an instant, it capsized, and we were all thrust in the angry sea. We could swim, and in less than a minute Arthur and I had righted the boat and scrambled in, and each were pulling up, on opposite sides, Ernest and the boy. They were safely landed, but the fisherman, where was he ? Arthur was the least exhausted of the three of us, be sides the best swimmer, so, catching sight of a form on the waters, he plunged in, and at length succeeded in getting the man in the boat, but he had evidently struck his head on a piece of rock for it was bleeding, and he lay stunned. We had lost our oars in the capsizing of our craft, and now, aided only by the rudder, we set to work to catch them for they were in sight floating a few yards off After fifteen minutes' anxious attempts we reached them, and then slowly but surely we row7ed for the land.

Half-an-hour after wre passed the pier and landed on the quay, full of gratitude for our great deliverance, and yet since then and now that I sit here and write, how often I have wished that I was drowned that stormy night, and left this earth that then looked bright and beautiful, and bade good-bye to life whilst it was joyous and fair! Alas! I was spared only to be caught by another — a much worse — tide.

Chapter II. In The Cottage By The Sea

" Sweet girl ! though only once we met, That meeting I shall ne'er forget ; And though we ne'er may meet again, Remembrance will thy form retain." Byron. It was several days before I was able to go out. Arthur and Ernest w7ere obliged to go back to Bristol, and the days of my holiday were now numbered. As soon as my ankle allow7ed me to limp across the road, with the aid of a stout walking-stick, I went to see Ben Dingle, the fisherman whom Arthur had seen coming home from his trade that night of the storm, and had brought him to rescue us which he so gallantly did. Ben's cut in his head had proved serious, a low fever had set in. Though we had despatched a doctor to him at once, and had sent him all he required, there was still danger of his recovery. Ernest had spent many hours by bis side, before he left Ilsracombe, and I had promised to do all I could for the family's welfare as soon as I was able to leave my couch, which wras not before Tuesday, seven days after the accident.

I found my way alone to Sea-view Cottage, and knocking, was admitted into the sick-man's room. His head was bandaged up, and by his white face and Ill the cottage by the sea 13 the dark circles round his eyes, I saw at once that he had saved our lives at the cost of his own. I sat and talked with him for some little time. He was aware of his danger, and his only fear seemed for his wife and eight young children he was leaving behind. I solemnly promised that they should never want as long as I lived, and that I would provide for the widow and orphans of the man who had lost his life in saving mine. His wife was weeping bitterly by the bedside ; the younger children were squalling in the adjacent room, and seeing how much the invalid needed quiet, I left him for a while to try what I could do to silence the children's cries.

I went forward and entered a low, white-washed kitchen. The fire, choked up with ashes, was burn ing dimly in the grate. The floor was littered with garments and fish ; two boys were fighting by the window for a toy boat they had picked up on the shore ; two babies — such they all seemed to me — were sitting, crying, on the floor ; and another infant, only a few months old, was exercising its lungs (which were evidently of the soundest type) by roaring vocifer ously. Another little girl was standing on tip-toe on a broken-backed chair, peering in the cup-board, and from what I saw of her manœuvres, it appeared to me that she was trying to ascertain, by accurate measurements, the precise depths of her mother's jam-pot. It certainly was a novel state of affairs for a city clerk to find himself in this position, but for the sake of the dying man in the next room, I resolved to act as nurse, kitchen-maid, and cook all in one, and put this disorderly group to rights.

Having divided the fighting boys by sending one for a can of water, and the other to see if a sailing-ship were in sight, I quieted the two babies on the floor by stuffing their mouths with sweets from my pocket, and thus effectually stopping their cries for the time. I took off my coat and set to work, gathering the herrings into a basket at one end of the room, and then Johnnie having come in by this time with the water, I filled the kettle to make some tea for Ben and his wife, and stirred the fire. This last operation filled the room with dust and ashes, that settled, without partiality, on the furniture, children, my hair, my face, and even tried to choke me by entering simultaneously my nose and throat. Not to be daunted, I found some coals and chips, set the fire ablaze, and sw7ept up the hearth, an opera tion I had not performed since I was a " fag " at school.

Then with my black hands and smutty face, I turned to the little bundle in the cradle that was sending up such a volley of roars. Now I had never handled an infant, to my remembrance, in my life. Having had no little sisters or brothers, not even the privileged honour of being addressed as " unke-ell," I had seen little of babies, and how I was to stifle the cries of the infant before me was a most difficult problem to solve. Instinct came to my rescue, and I seized the child and tossed it merrily up in the air — babies are supposed to be as fond of exalted positions as their elders — but not having calculated for the low dimensions of the apartment, the baby's head came in violent contact with the ceiling, and then there came such a prodigious howl that a cat's concert was nothing to it, and the two floor babies joined in the chorus.

The little girl with the sticky fingers shouted, " 111 tell mammy, I will, how you knock our baby about," and one of the boys instantly attacked me with a fishing-rod. Distracted and distressed beyond description, I put that bit of jelly (the infant, I should say) back in its cradle, buttered its forehead and put a penny on the rising lump, and rocked and rocked the bassinette till its little head must have been too dazed ever to think of its pain. I bribed Sally, the little girl with the sticky fingers, not to go near her mammy by giving her a silver sixpence, and I avoided the blows of the fishing-rod by dispatching Johnnie to the town to buy some more sweets. At last I succeeded in soothing the baby's cries to a gentle w7hine, and then I took it up in my arms, handling it like a brittle piece of china, and paced up and down the small room singing an impromptu lullaby of my own composition.

So absorbed was I with this new employment that I never noticed anyone entering the cottage, but turning round suddenly, I was interrupted in the midst of a crescendo in my song by the sight of a stranger — oh, horrors ! — a young lady, daintily dressed, with a sunny face dimpled all over with smiles at my expense ! I looked down at my shirt-sleeves, sooty hands, and the inelegant manner in which I was holding the babe, and felt myself blushing like a girl ! Quite annoyed at my want of composure, I placed the little struggling bundle on the table, and in doing so, knocked over a dish of milk, to the no small gratification of a lean white cat, that cleared all proof of this disaster with praise-worthy dexterity. "Oh," drawled Sally Dingle, " the tract lady." With this formal introduction, the young lady came forward, and with a pleasant " Good-evening," and bow to myself, asked Sally how her father was, and then said to me, " May I take baby for a bit ?

" I said I would be most delighted, and that familiar phrase on the tip of a gentleman's tongue was never pronounced with more sincerity than on that occasion. She took the little round bundle up, and what in my arms had appeared like a suet dumpling w7as trans formed in hers to a rational babj7. I hastily snatched my coat, and putting it on, made an excuse for retreating to the inner room, resolved to quit the pre mises at once. But when I saw Mrs. Dingle's grief. and her husband's languid state, I had not the heart to say good-bye, and in spite of the " tract lady's " presence, I went back to the kitchen to get the old folks some refreshment. " Sally, dear, will you take the kettle off the fire ? it is boiling," said a gentle voice, as I entered. " Ye-ess," drawled Sally ; " the young gen'lman put it on, he said he was a-going to make mother some tea," I went forward to perform this duty, and after doing it in the most clumsy style possible, scalding the cat, and spilling sugar on the head of one of the floor babies, I again made my exit to take a cup to Mrs. Dingle.

I stayed by the side of her husband for some time ; presently Sally came in saying, " The tract lady is putting the chil'en to bed, and is a-comin' in directly." In ten minutes she came in. I gave up my seat to her by the bedside, and retreating towards the window, quietly observed the young lady wdio had seen me under such unpropitious circumstances. She was of middle height, dressed in a light grey costume of soft material, with cuffs, belt and collar band of black velvet. She had dark blue eyes and chestnut brown hair, a fresh colour and a sw7eet, refined expression, yet I cannot say she was beautiful in the usual accep tance of the word. There is no defining beauty : some see it in one, some in another. It is not re stricted to eyes, hair, complexion, or even features. It has as much variety as the aspects of nature.

And to me, this young lady, who had so startled me, whilst nursing baby Dingle, possessed a charm in her face, voice and manner, above all the girls I had ever seen. She was bending over the fisherman's bandaged head, and talking to him in low, gentle accents of One Who can save to the uttermost, and of the land that seemed then not very far off, but the room being so small, I heard almost every word. It was a strange accident that threw us together in that cottage that evening, and a still stranger night. Ben Dingle's breath was getting shorter, and I volunteered to fetch a doctor, who returned with me in the space of half an-hour. He told us plainly that the end was very near, and after administering a soothing doze, and B doing all he could for the patient, he left, and I was alone with the Dingles and their lady visitor.