David Elliott. A Cornish story

Front matter

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Chapter I. David's Friends

fHY, David, how long have you bin here . I 've bin looking for you up and down the beach for the last hour, pretty near." "Have you ?" asked the boy addressed, looking up with a pleasant smile. He was sitting on the rocks, his feet wetted by the spray from the waves as they broke just below him ; apparently doing nothing, but gazing idly out to sea. " And now you 've found me, what do you want, Jack ? " "I've got to take a message to old Penworthy, round at Portrees, an' I thought maybe you would come along too ; but what on earth can you find to think of, David, sitting out here by yourself ?" David smiled as he rose, saying, "I hope your message will keep, lad ; for you don't seem in any partickler hurry to give it." And the two boys commenced walking briskly along the rocky beach towards the headland which juts out between the two fishing villages of Portrees and Trendean.

Trendean lies close down on the rocks, a small irregularly-built village, with narrow alleys running between the houses, and coming out in all sorts of unexpected places ; so that a stranger has some difficulty in threading his way amongst them. Portrees is larger, and has a good sheltered harbour. The sun was setting as the boys scrambled along the rocky indented coast towards Portrees, and his last rays shed a golden light across the waves until they looked like a path of glory towards some distant shore ; or so it seemed to David, as he stopped with a half-checked exclamation of delight. " What is it now," asked the matter-of-fact Jack, "the sunset?" What a glorious sunset it was. All day long it had been stormy, the black clouds scudding across the sky with just occasional gleams of sunlight.

Now it was blowing clear, and the fresh, grey cloud masses had gathered in the south-east, their edges all tinged with gold, while the sun went down in glory. Below the narrow path where the boys were stand ing the Atlantic rollers broke in thunder on the rocks, sending up clouds of spray to catch the sun's last beams. Some fishing boats were coming out of Portrees harbour, which lies snugly sheltered inside the little bay, with their sails closely reefed, and added life to the scene. "Come now, David, old chap, you must tell me this time what you 're thinkin' of." " You 11 only laugh at me as usual, Jack ; but if you must know, I had a line, which I think must be somewheres in the Bible, runnin' through my head. It goes something like this : ' At eventide there shall be light.' " " Well," answered Jack, " it often do clear up in the evenin' ; there ain't nothin' partickler to think of in that."

" But I was thinkin'," continued David, " that it 's rather like a man's life, p'r'aps like mine. Beginning all storms and clouds, with just a bit of sunshine here an' there, and then maybe will end up all bright an' splendid like the sunset. And then that path of glory, lad ; wouldn't you like to do some thing grand in your life, worth the tellin' of ?" "Well, you do beat all for dreamin', David. However, it 's true enough you came in a storm, and I hope you '11 get your wish, and end up in a good yellow sunset." The two boys laughed, and turned to pursue their way towards Portrees. Meanwhile it is time to let the reader know a little about David Elliot and his friend Jack Tregennis. David had indeed, as Jack had remarked, come in a storm. Seven years before, in a terrible gale, a schooner had been driven ashore on the pitiless rocks at the entrance of Lamorna Cove, about three miles from Portrees.

All day she had been seen at anchor, trying to ride out the storm ; but her cables parted, and in the night she was driven upon the rocks a helpless wreck, ancl crushed almost to tinder. An old fisherman, Matthew Holt, who with his wife lived in a small hut within the Cove, was the only one on the spot to afford help to her crew ; and he succeeded iii rescuing, at the risk of his life, a little boy whom the waves, as if half repenting of their cruel work, had washed within his reach. Matthew carried him home to his wife, and they brought the half-drowned little fellow back to life; and David Elliot, for it was he, remained with the old couple, and became as their son. He could give but little account of himself beyond the fact that his father had been captain of the wrecked vessel, and that his mother was dead.

He did not seem to 'know of any other relations, and though at first he cried bitterly for his father, after awhile the freshness of his sorrow passed, and he attached himself readily to old Matthew and his wife, who, as the old woman said, " were glad enough to have a boy again about the house ; it minded them of old times." Three of their boys had been drowned at sea, and the only remaining son was far away. Jack Tregennis, the only son of a fisherman, and part owner of a trawler, had been David's firm friend and ally almost ever since he had been cast ashore ; and, in spite of the great dissimilarity of their characters, David fully returned his friendship. The boys reached Portrees, and proceeded up a narrow, steep street, in search of old Penworthy. Presently David heard himself called.

The speaker was an elderly woman, standing within an archway. Life-long sorrows had left their mark upon her face in lines and wrinkles, but through them all shone such sweet peace and gentleness as a heart at rest in God alone could give. David stopped and turned back to her. " What is it, Mrs. Seacombe ? " " I want you to take this little parcel along with you, my dear, to mother, and come in an' get a bit of something and then run home. 'Tis going to be a wild night, and the old people may be awaitin' ye." David, seeing Jack had gone on without him, followed her in through the archway into a small court and up steep stone stairs into a clean, comfortable little kitchen. The offer of a bit of supper was too tempting to be refused, even had not Mrs. Seacombe's cosy chimney-corner offered no other attractions.

Matthew Holt was very poor, and David often knew what it was to go hungry. The pile of thick bread and butter which Mrs. Seacombe set before him was rapidly disappearing, when the sound of a light tread on the stairs without made him pause and turn expectantly towards the door, which was pushed open and a girl entered. A trim little maiden, with shining golden hair, and, in David's opinion, the sweetest blue eyes in Cornwall. The colour flushed into the boy's face, and almost unconsciously he stood up to greet her. " David, I didn't expect to see you here. I came to have a chat with granny." " I called David in to have some supper, and take your spencer to his mother ; it will keep her warm these wild days," said Mrs. Seacombe, as she drew Alice fondly towards her, and stroked the shining hair.

"Come, David, lad, finish the bread and butter." David's appetite seemed suddenly to have departed, and it was with a great effort he disposed of the remainder of his plateful, and then rose to go. " I '11 tell mother you knitted the spencer for her ; shall I . " he asked. " Yes, to be sure. And tell her I '11 be over to read a bit to her before long." " I saw the Nancy coming out of harbour," he said, still lingering. " Yes; father 's out, and he 's taken Harry with him. Harry was wild to go ; but it 's a rough night for his first," and the blue eyes looked somewhat troubled. "Harry's all right," said David cheerily. Alice, p'r'aps I 'm goin' with the Steers next week." " To be out for a whole week ? " " Yes, along the coast to Devon, p'r'aps as far as Prawle Point. Good-night, Mrs. Seacombe; and thank 'ee for my supper.

Good-night, Alice." And David, catching up the little parcel, ran down the stairs, and was soon fighting his way against the wind, which was blowing hard again, along the coastguard path towards Lamorna Cove. He had better hurry, for the old couple sorely need his strong young arms to-night. As the evening closed in, the wind, which had lulled at sunset, rose again, and the wild gusts which shook and rattled the ill-fitting little window of Holt's kitchen roused old Matthew, who was dozing by the fire. " Where 's David, Martha ? " he asked of his wife, who was knitting with fingers stiff and crippled with age and rheumatism. "He went over to Portrees to see if the Steers wanted a boy to help with their boat next week ; he '11 be home soon now," she answered. "That there boat down to the harbour will be breakin' adrift if 't isn't fastened firmer, and a pretty business that '11 be."

B And the old man rose slowly and looked out of the window. The fast-gathering darkness prevented his seeing anything however, and after fidgeting about the kitchen for a while, presently, as a still stronger blast shook the hut, he opened the door and looked out. " Doan't 'ee go down to the boat yourself now, Matthew," said the old woman, following him to the door and looking out over his shoulder. " The wind 's so wild, it '11 blow 'ee into harbour. David '11 be here in a minute." "I must go an' see," muttered old Matthew. " Doan't 'ee f oiler me, Martha." And the old man, buttoning his coat round him, battled against the wind as best he could, down the steep, stony path to the little harbour, and almost felt his way along the pier to where his boat was fastened. Martha after a moment's hesitation followed her husband, pausing every now andthen to take breath.

She had not gone far when she heard, as the wind lulled, a sharp cry and then a splash. "He's blown into harbour!" she screamed; and the old woman, endued with sudden strength, hurried down the path, and stumbled along the pier, all the while straining her ears to listen for another cry. She struck her foot against the bolt to which the boat was fastened, and nearly fell ; but recovering herself she cried, in a weak, shrill voice : "Matthew, Matthew, be 'ee there then?" " Ay," cried the old man. " I 'm holdin' on to side of the pier. Throw me a rope, Martha ; I can't find the boat." Old Martha stooped and fumbled about in the darkness for a coil of rope she knew was lying near. " Quick !" called the old man again ; " be quick !" The great waves were rolling in, and washing him up and down against the side of the pier, and his strength was failing fast.

Martha came on the rope at last, and then with trembling hands sought to uncoil it. Poor, stiff, feeble hands, would they never undo the rope ? " Quick !" called the old man again ; his feeble cry told how urgent was the need of haste. The coil was clear at last, and the old woman tottered to the side, and threw one end down to him, peering over to try and see where he was. Even if he caught the rope, how could the old couple find strength to hold it at either end ? But their boy David was coming near. Martha caught the sound of his foot steps as he ran along the path just above the pier, and screamed his name. "David! David!" In another minute he was beside her. " Matthew, he 's fallen in," she panted. David stooped and felt for the rope which fastened the boat to the pier, made it firm to the bolt, and without wasting time in words slid down it into the boat just as old Matthew with a faint cry sank under the water.

David leant over the boat's side and waited for a moment, listening intently. Under the lee of the pier he was somewhat sheltered from the wind, though it whistled and roared overhead, almost blowing away poor old Martha as she crouched trembling above. Presently the boy heard a gurgling, pantin" sound close by him, and bending down he clutched hold of Matthew as he rose to the surface, and drew him by main force to the side. Beyond that his strength could not go. Matthew was weighed down by the water in his clothes, and David's heart sank within him. Was the poor old man to be drowned after all ? The boat rose and fell with the waves as they rolled into the harbour, and rocked violently from side to side ; he could not long keep his hold. But Matthew, exhausted though he was, still kept his wits about him.

" The steps !" he gasped ; "get me to the steps !" David, still keeping hold of him with one hand, with some difficulty grasped the rope, and pulling the boat close to the pier managed little by little to gain the stone steps which fortunately were close by. Then, as a wave lifted him, with the boy's help the old man struggled on to the steps. David jumped after him, and together he and Martha by slow degrees got him home. Once on his bed in the hut Matthew's strength failed utterly, and anxiously Martha and David watched and tended him through the long dark hours of that stormy night. As the morning broke, the old man sank into a deep sleep, and then David left him and went out. The storm seemed breaking, and the cold wind felt refreshing after the long night's watch as he scrambled along above the beach to where he could get a more open view.

All night his thoughts had wandered from Matthew Holt to the Nancy and her little crew, who were, he knew, tossing on the waves somewhere out at sea. The wind would not have served to bring them into Portrees harbour ; so unless they had run for shelter further along the coast they would keep as much as possible in the open sea. As he emerged on the side of the cliff beyond the shelter of the cove, a sudden gust of wind made him stagger and cling to a projecting rock for support. " Steady there," said a voice just above him. David looked up in surprise; he had believed him self alone. A young man, and a boy of about David's age, were standing partly sheltered by a bit of broken wall, and were, like David, apparently looking for some fishing-boat in which they were interested ; for the young man had a telescope in his hand.

" Come up here," he called good-naturedly. "You won't feel the wind so much." David obeyed, instinctively touching his cap as he did so ; for though both were enveloped in rough sailor coats, he felt that they were not quite the same as the men and boys with whom he was accustomed to associate. "Are you looking out for a boat ?" asked the boy as David, half crouching behind the wall, gazed out to sea. " Yes, sir ; the Nancy from Portrees," he answered. " A fishing smack ? See if you can make her out with this," said the elder of the two, as he handed the telescope to David, and pointed to a distant speck, towards which they had been looking. " There she is !" he exclaimed, after a few minutes, excitedly. " That 's the Nancy, sir. She 's safe so far, but she 's catching it out there, and no mistake.

She 's a tight little craft though, if only she don't get too near the rocks ; they ought to keep her out a bit more." "The wind's blowing dead on shore. I expect they can't," said the gentleman. They watched for some time in silence, the speck coming nearer and revealing herself to David's unaided eyes as the Nancy, on board which were Alice's father and young brother. His eagerness and anxiety became great, and truly even to in experienced eyes there was cause for fear. About two miles west of Lamorna Cove there runs out into the sea a headland called Ling's Point, and beyond this, just under the water in high tide, are jagged, dangerous rocks, their sharp edges only showing as the sea breaks over them. Towards these, in spite of all the efforts of her crew, the Nancy was slowly drifting.

For a short time they watched her without speaking, then David could restrain himself no longer. " She 11 be on • the rocks ! I must get to Ling's Point, and try to save them," he exclaimed, as he started to his feet. The gentleman put his hand on his shoulder. " Who 's on board ? Your father ? " "No, sir. Alice's father and Harry and old. Tom Jones." He was in too much anxiety and haste to be more explicit. " Come then, we 11 go to the Point and see what we can do. I suppose you know the shortest way ?" David nodded, and leading the way ran at full speed along a narrow, rocky path, closely followed by his new friends. They did not stop until they reached the Point, then David paused with a cry of dismay. The wind in-shore and the strong tide combined had proved too much for the little Nancy and her crew.

Rapidly now she was nearing the fatal rocks, which were only too surely marked by white masses of foam and spray, as the tossing waves broke over them. But they were not the only ones who had observed her danger and had come to render what help they could. A small group of fishermen were standing in the Cove, on the further side of the Point, watching her movements ; and they climbed down the slippery rocks to join them. Two or three of the men turned at the sound of their footsteps and touched their caps, evidently recognizing the new-comers. " What do you think of it ?" asked the gentleman, addressing a stalwart young fisherman. " It's a bad look-out for the Nancy, Mr. Neville." "Then we must do what we can to save her crew. What ropes have you here ? " "We have some good cods of rope, sir. But Seacombe will try to run her on as near the Cove as possible, I expect, as soon as he finds he can't anyway keep her off the rocks."

"Then we'll stand by ready to help them when the time comes." " Ay, ay, sir ; we II all lend a hand." There was no need for further words. Nothing could be done yet but look on, while the little craft, bravely struggling against her fate, drifted each moment nearer the dangerous shore. David, intently watching, could easily distinguish Alice's father now and old Tom Jones, and — yes — there was Harry in the stern near his father, who stood, his hand on the helm, still vainly hoping to save his boat. Reluctantly he yielded to the conviction that it was in vain, then, his mind made up, he steered straight for the shore. The men in the Cove involuntarily held their breath as on the Nancy came. Now she is plunging in the foam as a great wave sweeps past her. Has she struck ? No. Stdl on she comes, and those on shore run down and stand almost in the breakers, so eager are they to help their friends.

David is amongst them, and in his eagerness goes too far, and a great wave breaks and comes swirling round him, lifting him off his feet, and would have washed him out of his depth, had not Mr. Neville sprang forward simul taneously with the stalwart young fisherman Pengelly. Grasping David firmly, they threw themselves down, digging hands and knees into the beach to keep themselves from being dragged out by the retiring wave, and as soon as it had passed deposited him, breathless and bewildered, out of danger. "Take care where you go, lad," said Pengelly. "We want all our strength to save Seacombe and his mate." " Guy," said Mr. Neville, " you and this boy can't help us yet. Keep out of harm's way, and be ready to look after the little fellow from the Nancy when we bring him on shore." Guy nodded, and he and David stood together to watch until they could be of use.

On came the Nancy on the crest of a huge wave, which lifted her over some of the most dangerous rocks. " She has struck," shouted Pengelly. " Look alive, lads ! She won't be long of going to pieces." As he spoke he seized one of the ropes, and rapidly fastened one end round his waist. "Take hold of this, some of you," he said, throwing the other end to one of the men. "Wait a bit, Pengelly," said Mr. Neville, as he followed his example. " Don't be rash, lad ; the Nancy is drifting further in." Mr. Neville was right. She had struck when 'Pengelly spoke ; but the next wave seemed to carry her over the rock, and further in, and then retiring left her almost high and dry till its successor lifted her once more as if in sport, and dashed her against the black sharp-pointed rocks. They could hear her timbers grind against them while the foam and spray enveloped her.

"Now, Pengelly;" and the two brave men dashed into the surf as the wave went back, leaving the Nancy firmly wedged amongst the rocks, and at the mercy of winds and waves. Well was it then for Seacombe and his weaker companions that they had friends to help in their hour of need ! Mr. Neville and Pengelly supported one another as they hastened towards the wreck — now breast ing a curling wave that threatened to overwhelm them, now climbing the dark, slippery rocks, then again completely lost to view as the spray broke over them. It seemed a long time to the anxious watchers on shore, and on the deck of the Nancy. More than once Guy caught David's arm involun tarily, and uttered a half-suppressed cry of horror as the two figures were for a minute or two lost sight of, and then would draw a long sigh of relief as again they emerged from amongst the waves.

At last they reached the Nancy in safety, and climbed on deck just as a huge wave broke over her, sweeping her from stern to bow, and carrying away her mast. " A few more like that and there 11 soon be no more of the Nancy',' murmured David sadly to himself. But now all anxiously watched for directions from Mr. Neville, and in obedience to his indications moved further along the beach to a part more rocky and dangerous, but nearer to the little vessel ; a stout hawser was hauled on shore and made fast, and the first to come along it were Seacombe and his boy, quickly followed by Tom Jones, Mr. Neville, and Pengelly. David, assisted zealously by Guy, had taken pos session of Harry Seacombe as soon as he landed. The little fellow was wet, and cold, and much sub dued, but otherwise apparently none the worse for his first shipwreck.

"Come up to my house, all of you," said Mr. Neville ; " it 's not far, and we are all wet and cold. You must get warmed and dried before you go on to Portrees." " I don't much like leaving the place as long as there 's a bit of the Nancy left, sir," said Seacombe sadly ; " but I II be much obliged if you 'U let little Harry go, and get a bit dry before he runs home to his mother." " I II stay with you, Seacombe," volunteered Pengelly. David and Guy took Harry between them, and half led, half carried him up the steep, slippery path which led from the cove. It was now broad daylight, and the sun had risen clear and bright. Mr. Neville led the way as soon as they reached the road, and walking quickly soon brought them to a gate which they passed through, and then down a somewhat steep, gravelled drive, shaded by Scotch firs, to a green glade open to the south and west, but completely sheltered by the hill behind from cold north winds.

A long low house with a verandah built along its whole length stood in this cosy little nook, facing the sea. From the end of the lawn the hill sloped gently down to one of the innumerable little coves so common along the coasts of Devon and Cornwall; its white pebbles were glistening in the morning sunshine, green billows were rolling in, and their salt spray reached almost to the lawn. A magnificent Newfoundland dog came springing to meet his master, and at the sound of his deep bark one of the low French windows opened, and a young lady came out into the verandah. She seemed in nowise dismayed at the party of wet dishevelled seamen, but advanced to meet her guests. "What has happened, Herbert?" she asked, ad dressing Mr. Neville. " There has not been a wreck, has there ? Oh, Guy, what poor little boy is that ?" she added, as Guy led Harry forward, now looking very dismal and unhappy, his wet clothes clinging to him, his boots heavy with water, and his cheeks stained with salt tears.

" There 's a small boy who wants comforting, Mary," said Herbert Neville. " He has just been shipwrecked. Will you and Guy look after him while I take the rest of our friends here to get dried ? I hope there 's a roaring fire in the kitchen, and a good breakfast; for we are all uncommonly hungry, I can tell you. Is Annie down ?" "Yes, in her sitting-room. Guy, bring the poor little fellow in. I'll tell Mrs. Downs to see to breakfast, and there 's sure to be a good fire in the kitchen." So saying, Mary Neville turned and re-entered the house, followed by Guy and Harry. " I 'm afeard we 're giving you an' the young lady a deal o' trouble, sir," said old Tom Jones, respectfully touching his cap. " Not a bit," said Herbert heartily. " Come this way." And he led them into a comfortable kitchen, where a glowing fire and evident preparations for breakfast were truly a welcome sight to the cold, hungry men.