She's All the World to Me Part 26

But Danny was going down the rocks. Sharp as needles, with their thousand teeth turned upward, slippery and icy cold, Danny set his foot on them. He began his descent with his back to the sea. Clouds of spray rose from every third wave and hid him from the people. But he was seen to be going down foot after foot. What had seemed like madness before began to look like courage now that success appeared possible. It was neither--it was despair. "Aw, beautiful!" "Beautiful, extraordinary!"

"It's the young Masther Christian he's going down for." "Well, well, the masther was kind to the boy astonishing." "Poor lad, _there's_ a heart at him!"

Meanwhile Christian was clinging to the bowsprit. He was chilled near to losing his hold. He saw Danny with the rope, and wondered if he would ever reach them. His companion--some said it was the mate, Davy Cain--saw him also, and the poor fellow was so transported by the prospect of deliverance that he died on the instant, and was swept away.

Only Christian now remained. Every moment the waves washed over him. He was numbed past feeling. His hands were swollen to twice their size.

Wondering if when Danny reached him with the rope he would have strength enough to grip it, he lost consciousness.

When within a yard of the bow of the boat, Danny leaped and landed on the deck. The people had held their breath while he descended. Now a great cheer went up on the sh.o.r.e and on the cliff. It rang out above the clamor of the wind and the hiss of the thrashing billows. But Danny heard it not. His thoughts were of Mona, and of how she was blessing him in her heart. As surely as if he heard it with his carnal ear, Danny knew that even at that moment Mona was praying that strength might be granted him, and that he might be blessed in the mercy of G.o.d forever.

He lifted Christian in his arms. The swollen hands had next to no hold now. Then the lad set his face afresh to the cruel, black, steep rocks.

Once again a shower of spray hid him from the people. When the white cloud had fallen back he could be seen half-way up the rock, dragging Christian on one arm after him.

Could none help him? Yes; twenty hands set out at this moment, nine-tenths of the peril past. The tide had left a wide bank across the highest part of the strait, and the water was running out on both sides.

Danny was helped up, but he would not relinquish his burden. Walking feebly, he carried Christian, who was insensible, along the narrow path under the east wall back to the sh.o.r.e. The crowd divided for him. He saw Mona, where she stood with clasped hands beside Balladhoo. Making his way to her, he laid Christian at her feet.

Danny's life's work was done. He had given back to the woman who was all the world to him the man she loved.

Mona dropped to her knees beside Christian, and kissed him tenderly.

Danny stood apart in silence, and amid all that throng saw Mona alone.

Then he turned his head aside and looked away over the sea. Only Heaven knew what his thoughts were in that bitter hour--that blessed hour--that hour of sorrow and of glory. In this world his days were done. For Kisseck's death, what remained to him among men? Without Mona's love, what was left to him on earth?

Christian returned to consciousness. Mona rose up and took Danny's hand.

She would have put her arms around his neck, but he drew away, and turned his eyes again toward the sea. The longing look came back, but no tear would start, for the gift of tears had gone forever.

The hum of human voices arose above them. "Poor lad, and his uncle dead too." "Kisseck?" "Aw, yes, Kisseck." "No." "Yes, though--and shot, they're saying'." "Never." "Who shot him?" "There's no one knowing that."

A loud, unearthly peal of laughter was heard above the noise of the people and the tumult of the storm. Every one turned to look for Danny.

He had gone. The next moment he was seen at the water's edge pushing off the dingy of the lugger. He leaped into it and picked up an oar. But the ebbing tide needed no such help. It caught the boat and carried it away on a huge billow white with foam. In a minute it was riding far out into the dark void beyond.

Then Mona remembered Danny's strange words two days ago, "I think at whiles I'd like to die in a big sea like that."

Next day--Christmas Day--when the bleared sun was sinking over the western bar of the deep lone sea, and Danny's gorse fire on the cliff-head was smoldering out, a boat was washed ash.o.r.e in the Poolvash--empty, capsized. It was the dingy of the "Ben-my-Chree."

CHAPTER XXIII

THREE YEARS AFTER

One scene more.

It was the morning of a summer's day. The sunshine danced bewitchingly over the sea, that lay drowsily under the wide vault of a blue sky.

Lambent, languid, white, earth and air slept together.

A soothing and dreamy haze rested on the little town of Peel.

Brighter than the sunshine, fresher than the salt breath of the sea, a little girl of eight tripped over the paved and crabbed streets. In one hand she swung a straw-hat overflowing with flowers. By the other she held a fair-haired boy, who was just old enough to trot along at her side. The stout little man carried a mighty spade across one shoulder, and the hand that held the hand of his sister held also a bucket heavily laden with perhaps a teaspoonful of sand. At one moment the maiden, exercising the grave duties of a guardian, stopped, and volunteered to relieve the little chap of this burden; but, of course, he resented the humiliating tender with proper masculine dignity. Then they tripped on.

They were making for the market-place, and when they reached it they turned in at the church gates. Many a green grave lay there bathed in the sunbeams; and many a simple stone, moss-grown and discolored, looked brighter on this brilliant day. An old man sat on a tomb and leaned forward on a stick. He seemed to doze in the light and warmth; but as the little people pa.s.sed him, he fumbled at his hat and smiled through his teethless gums.

"'At's Billy," said the little fellow, with an air of knowledge.

The children walked to the southwest angle of the church, and stopped before a white marble slab embedded in the wall. There was no grave beneath it. Tossed on the shimmering waters that stretched away miles on miles in front of it, or resting calmly in that ocean bed, was all that remained of him to whom this stone was raised.

The little maiden cast her flowers in front of it. The little boy, too, must needs cast his flowers also. Then he looked up with his great wondering eyes at the letters of the inscription. They ran:

TO DEAR DANNY IN HEAVEN

The tide was just on the turn, and the murmur of the first receding waves began to break the silence.

"Listen," said the little woman, with lifted finger.

"I 'ikes the sea," said the boy.

The children turned to go. "Come, Danny," said she.

"Ees, Ruby," he lisped.

When they reached the gate the little feet tripped faster over the stones, and a silvery voice sang:

"Sweet violets, and primroses the sweetest."