Devon Boys Part 20

"Why, Big, what is it?" I cried eagerly.

"Don't frighten him. He has seen the ghost of an old c.o.c.k shark," cried Bob Chowne grinning.

"Oh, I don't know," he panted. "Something soft, and cold, and alive."

"Why, it was a jelly-fish," we said together. "Did it sting?"

"No. You wouldn't find jelly-fishes in a hole like that. It felt like a tremendously great polly-squiggle with a big parrot's beak, and my hand nearly went in."

"Get out!" said Bob, "there are no big ones."

"How do you know?" retorted Bigley. "That felt just like a large one."

"Did he take hold of you with his suckers?" I said.

"No, I didn't give him time."

"If it had been a polly-squiggle it would have got you fast directly with its suckers," I said oracularly.

"Never mind what it was, old Big. Go in and fetch it out again."

"No; one of you two go, I don't like," said Bigley. "You can't see where you're putting your hand; and suppose he bites it off?"

"Why, then, you could have a wooden peg," said Bob sneeringly. "Here, come out, my poor little man, and let me go in. I'll soon fetch out my gentleman, you see if I don't. Here, come out."

Bob Chowne never meant to go in. His face said as much as he looked round at me; but his words had the effect he intended, for Bigley grunted and went back as far as the narrow crack in the grotto would allow, and boldly thrust in his hand.

"Mind, Big," I said seriously, "be ready to s.n.a.t.c.h away your fist."

He did not answer, but we heard him draw his breath hard; then there came a splashing noise, and directly after our school-fellow backed towards us.

"I've got him," he shouted, his voice sounding hollow and strange.

"What is it?"

"I dunno," he cried, and then, wrenching himself round, he dropped something soft down upon the rock.

"Why, it's a crab!" I cried.

"A soft one," shouted Bob. "He can't nip now."

As he spoke he poked the curious-looking object with his finger, making it wince and threaten with its claws, but they were perfectly soft, and it was evident that the creature had only just crept out of its old sh.e.l.l, and was hiding away in the dark hole waiting for the new armour to form.

"Well, he is a rum one," said Bob, growing bolder. "Why, he's just like a counterfeit is when you pull his tail out of a whelk sh.e.l.l."

"Not quite so soft," I said, gaining confidence and handling the crab in turn, for it was not so fleshy feeling as the back part of hermit crabs, which we called counterfeits in our part of the world.

"What shall we do with if?" said Big. "It isn't good to eat now."

"Kill the nasty, bloaty thing, and throw it in for bait for the fishes."

"No, no," I said, "put it down and let it creep back. It will grow into a fine crab, and we know its hole and can come and get it some day when the tide's down."

"That's it," said Big; and taking the pulpy, soft crab, which pinched at his hands without the slightest effect, he crept back and thrust it into its hiding-place once again.

We two were looking in after him when--_thud_!--_plash_!--came a wave, breaking just below us and drenching us from head to foot, while a quant.i.ty of the water rushed into our baled-out hole, filled it, and began running swiftly up the channel, so swiftly that we saw at a glance it would only take another or two to fill the upper pool.

"Here, come out, Big. Quick!" I cried. "Tide's coming in. Now, Bob, get the baskets and nets."

I ran down a few yards, and was only just in time to s.n.a.t.c.h mine up before a wave washed right over the spot where they had lain. For the tide was coming in rapidly, and, as I have shown, we were on a part of the sh.o.r.e that was only bare about once a month.

"All right," cried Bob. "I've got mine and old Big's."

"Where are Big's shoes?" I said.

"Down by the pool. Come on, Big, old chap," shouted Bob.

"I'll get them," I said, and I ran to the bottom pool and had to fish them out of the bottom where they had been left.

As I took them out I felt ready to drop them, but I did not, for I flung them and my net and basket as far up the sh.o.r.e as I could, and held out my hands to Bigley, who was looking out at me from the grotto-like place.

"Why don't you come out?" I cried. "Can't you see the tide's coming in?"

"Yes--yes," he said in a curious hollow voice, "I can see, but I can't move. I'm stuck fast. Help!"

I felt a chill of horror, and in those moments saw the tide rising higher and higher till it had filled the little cavern and drowned my poor school-fellow, we his companions being unable to drag him out.

Those thoughts only occupied moments, but they made an impression that I have never forgotten, and I don't think I ever shall have the memories weakened.

I saw it all plainly enough. Poor fellow! He had been startled by the incoming tide and tried to creep out, but not in about the only part that would permit of his pa.s.sing, but in the first that offered, and he had become fixed, and, as in a few words he explained, the harder he tried to free himself the tighter prisoner he became.

"Here, Bob! Bob!" I shouted in such a tone of anguish that he came running from the back of the rocks to where I was standing knee-deep in water.

"Get out!" he shouted as soon as he saw me. "You can come. Look here, if you play me a trick like--"

"No, no, don't go," I shouted. "Bob: he's fast!"

Bob dashed down to me now as quickly as the rough place would let him.

He had thrown down his load at my first appeal for help, and as he came splashing through the water he looked horribly pale.

He saw the position in an instant, and stood by me too much horrified to act; and, as he told me afterwards, his thoughts were just like mine.

How long would it take to go to the Gap and bring Bigley's father with a boat?

"Can't you get any farther?" I cried at last as a fresh wave came rushing in, and nearly swept me off my legs.

"No; I'm fast; I can't move," said Bigley in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "Run for help."

"No, no," shouted Bob. "Don't go, Sep. We must get him out."