Saved at Sea Part 6

'On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand, All other ground is sinking sand.'

The time pa.s.sed on. Would he never come? We grew more and more anxious.

Mrs. Millar's servant-girl came running down to say her mistress wanted to know if we could hear anything yet.

'No,' my grandfather said, 'nothing yet, my la.s.s; but it can't be long now.'

'Missis is so poorly,' said the girl; 'I think she's got a cold: she shakes all over, and she keeps fretting so.'

'Poor soul! well, perhaps it's better so.'

'Whatever do you mean, grandfather?' I asked.

'Why, if aught's amiss, she won't be so taken aback as if she wasn't afraid; and if Jem's all right, why, she'll only be the better pleased.'

The girl went back, and we still waited on the pier. 'Grandfather,' I said at length, 'I think I hear a boat.'

It was a very still night; we stood and listened. At first my grandfather said he heard nothing; but at length he distinguished, as I did, the regular plash--plash--plash--of oars in the distance.

'Yes, it _is_ a boat,' said my grandfather.

I was hastening to leave the pier, and run up to the house to tell Mrs.

Millar, but my grandfather laid his hand on my shoulder.

'Wait a bit, Alick, my lad,' he said; 'let us hear what it is first; maybe it isn't Jem, after all!'

'But it's coming here, grandfather; I can hear it better now.'

'Yes,' he said, 'it's coming here;' but he still kept his hand on my shoulder.

The boat had been a long way off when we first heard it, for it was many minutes before the sound of the oars seemed to become much more distinct. But it came nearer, and nearer, and nearer. Yes, the boat was evidently making for the island.

At last it came so near that my grandfather called out from the end of the pier,--

'Hollo, Jem! You're late, my lad!'

'Hollo!' said a voice from the boat; but it wasn't Jem's voice.

'Whereabouts is your landing-place?' said the voice; 'it's so thick, I can't see.'

'Why, Jem isn't there, grandfather!' I said, catching hold of his arm.

'No,' said my grandfather; 'I knew there was something wrong with the lad.'

He called out to the man in the boat the direction in which he was to row, and then he and I went down the steps together, and waited for the boat to come up.

There were four men in the boat. They were sailors, and strangers to me.

One of them, the one whose voice we had heard, got out to speak to my grandfather.

'Something's wrong,' said my grandfather, before he could begin; 'something's wrong with that poor lad.'

'Yes,' said the man, 'we've got him here; and he pointed to the boat.

A cold shudder pa.s.sed over me as he said this, and I caught sight of something lying at the men's feet at the bottom of the boat.

'What's wrong with him? Has he had an accident? Is he much hurt?'

'He's dead,' said the man solemnly.

'Oh dear!' said my grandfather, in a choking voice. 'However shall we tell his wife? However shall we tell poor Mary?'

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'HOW DID IT HAPPEN?' I ASKED.]

'How did it happen?' I asked at length, as soon as I could speak.

'He was getting a sack of flour on board, over yonder' said one of the men in the boat, 'and it was awful thick and foggy, and he missed his footing on the plank, and fell in; that's how it happened!'

'Yes,' said another man, 'and it seems he couldn't swim, and there was no boat nigh at hand to help him. Joe Malcolmson was there and saw him fall in; but before he could call any of us, it was all over with him.

We got him out at last, but he was quite gone; we fetched a doctor, and took him into a house near, and rubbed him, and did all we could; but it wasn't of no good at all! Shall we bring him in?'

'Wait a bit,' said my grandfather; 'we must tell that poor girl first.

Which of you will go and tell her?'

The men looked at each other and did not speak. At last one of them, who knew my grandfather a little, said, 'You'd better tell her, Sandy; she knows you, and she'll bear it better than from strangers; we'll wait here till you come back, and then we can bring him in.'

'Well,' said my grandfather, with a groan, 'I'll go then! Come with me, Alick, my lad,' said he, turning to me; 'but no, perhaps I'd better go by myself.'

So he went very slowly up towards the lighthouse, and I remained behind with the four men on the sh.o.r.e, and that silent form lying at the bottom of the boat.

I was much frightened, and felt as if it was all a very terrible dream, and as if I should soon wake up to find it had all pa.s.sed away.

CHAPTER IX.

A CHANGE IN THE LIGHTHOUSE.

It seemed a long time before my grandfather came back, and then he only said in a low voice, 'You can bring him now, my lads; she knows about it now.'

And so the mournful little procession moved on, through the field and garden and court, to the Millars' house, my grandfather and I following.

I shall never forget that night, nor the strange, solemn feeling I had then.

Mrs. Millar was very ill; the shock had been too much for her. The men went back in the boat to bring a doctor to the island to see her, and the doctor sent them back again to bring a nurse. He said he was afraid she would have an attack of brain-fever, and he thought her very ill indeed.

My grandfather and I sat in the Millars' house all night, for the nurse did not arrive until early in the morning. The six children were fast asleep in their little beds. I went to look at them once, to see if my little Timpey was all right; she was lying in little Polly's bed, their tiny hands fast clasped together as they slept. The tears came fast into my eyes, as I thought that they both had lost a father, and yet neither of them knew anything of their loss!

When the nurse arrived, my grandfather and I went home But we could not sleep; we lighted the kitchen fire, and sat over it in silence for a long time.