St. Winifred's Part 51

Charlie had been quiet for a long time, his face hidden on Walter's shoulder; but he had seen the glare which the light threw across the waves, and had observed that they had gradually been driven through it into the blackness again, and he asked, "Have we pa.s.sed the lighthouse, Walter?"

"We have."

"Oh, I am so hungry and burning with thirst! Oh! what shall we do?"

"Try not to think about it, Charlie; a little fasting won't hurt us much."

Another long pause, during which they clung more closely to each other, and their hearts beat side by side, and then Charlie said, in a barely articulate whisper--

"Walter!"

"I know what you are going to say, Charlie."

"The water in the boat is nearly up to my knees."

"We have shipped a great deal, you know."

"Yes; and besides that--"

"Yes, it is true; there is a leak. Do you mind my putting you down and trying what I can do to bail the water out?"

"O Walter, don't put me off your knee--don't let go of me."

"Very well, Charlie; it wouldn't be of much use."

"Good G.o.d!" cried the little boy in a paroxysm of agony, "we are sinking--we are foundering!"

They wound their arms round each other, and Walter said, "It is even so, my darling brother. Death is near, but G.o.d is with us; and if it is death, then death means rest and heaven. Good-bye, Charlie, good-bye; we will be close together till the end."

CHAPTER FORTY.

WHAT THE SEA GAVE UP.

The sands and yeasty surges mix At midnight in a dreary bay;-- And on thy ribs the limpet sticks, And o'er thy bones the scrawl shall play.

Tennyson.

Anxiety reigned at Saint Winifred's, succeeded by consternation and intense grief. Little was thought of the absence of the three boys at tea-time, but when it came to chapel-time and bed-time, and they had not yet appeared, and when next morning it was found that they had not been heard of during the night, everyone became seriously alarmed, and all the neighbouring country was searched for intelligence.

The place on the cliff where Kenrick had descended was observed, but as the traces showed that only _one_ boy had gone down there, the discovery, so far from explaining matters, only rendered them more inexplicable. Additional light was thrown on the subject by the disappearance of Bryce's boat, and the worst fears seemed to be confirmed by his information that it was a ricketty old concern, only intended to paddle in smooth weather close to the sh.o.r.e. But what earthly reason could have induced three boys to venture out in such a tub on so wild a night? That they did it for pleasure was inconceivable, the more so as rowing was strictly forbidden; and as no other reason could be suggested, all conjecture was at fault.

The fishermen went out in their smacks, but found no traces, and gained no tidings of the missing boys; and all through that weary and anxious day the belief that they had been lost at sea gained ground. Almost all day Power, and Eden, and Henderson, had been gazing out to sea, or wandering on the sh.o.r.e, in the vain hope of seeing them come rowing across the bay; but all the sailors on the sh.o.r.e affirmed that if they _had_ gone out in an open boat, and particularly in Bryce's boat, it was an utter impossibility that they could have outlived the tempest of the preceding night.

At last, towards the evening, the sea gave up, not indeed her dead, but what was accepted as a positive proof of their wretched fate.

Henderson, who was in a fever of excitement, which Power vainly strove to allay, was walking with him and Eden, who was hardly less troubled, along the beach, when he caught sight of something floating along, rising and falling on the dumb sullen swell of the advancing tide. He thought and declared at first, with a start of horror, that it was the light hair of a drowned boy; but they very soon saw that it could not be that, and dashing in waist-deep after it, Henderson brought out _the torn and battered fragments of a straw hat_. The ribbon, of dark blue and white, though soaked and discoloured, still served to identify it as having belonged to a Saint Winifred's boy; and, carefully examining the flannel lining, they saw on a piece of linen sewn upon it--only too legible still--the name "H. Kenrick." Nor was this all they found. The discovery had quickened their search, and soon afterwards Power, with a sudden suppressed cry, pointed to something black, lying, with a dreadful look about it, at a far part of the sand. Again their hearts grew cold, and running up to it they all recognised, with fresh horror and despair, _the coat which Walter had last worn_. They recognised it, but besides this, to place the matter beyond a doubt, his name was marked on the inside of the sleeve. In one of the pockets was his school notebook, with all the notes he had taken, and the playful caricatures which here and there he had scribbled over the pages; and in the other, stained with the salt water, and tearing at every touch, were the letters he had last received.

All the next day the doubt was growing into certainty. Mr and Mrs Evson were summoned from Semlyn, and came with feelings that cannot be depicted. Power gave to Mrs Evson the coat he had picked up, and he and Henderson hardly ever left the parents of their friend, doing all they could to cheer their spirits and support in them the hopes they could hardly feel themselves. To this day Mrs Evson cherishes that coat as a dear and sacred relic, which reminds her of the mercy which sustained her during the first great agony which she had endured in her happy life. Power kept poor Kenrick's hat, for no relation of his was there to claim it.

Another day dawned, and settled grief and gloom fell on all alike at Saint Winifred's--the boys, the masters, the inhabitants. The sight of Mr and Mrs Evson's speechless anguish impressed all hearts, and by this time hope seemed quenched for ever. For now one boy only,--though young hearts are slow to give up hope--had refused to believe the worst.

It was Eden. He _persisted_ that the three boys must have been picked up. The belief had come upon him suddenly, and grown upon him he knew not how, but he was _sure_ of it; and therefore his society brought most relief and comfort to the torn heart of the mother. "What made him so confident?" she asked. He did not know; he had seen it, or dreamt it, or _felt_ it somehow, only he felt unalterably convinced that so it was.

"They will come back, dear Mrs Evson, they will come back, you will see," was his repeated a.s.severation; and oppressed as her heart was with doubt and fear, she was never weary of those words.

And on the fourth day, while Mr Evson was absent, having gone to make enquiries in London of all the ships which had pa.s.sed by Saint Winifred's on that day, Eden, radiant with joy, rushed into Dr Lane's drawing-room, where Mrs Evson was sitting, and utterly regardless of _les convenances_, burst out with the exclamation, "O Mrs Evson, it is true, it is true what I always told you. Didn't I say that I knew it?

They _have_ been picked up."

"Hush, my boy; steady," whispered Mrs Lane; "you should have delivered the message less suddenly. The revulsion of feeling from sorrow to joy will be too much for her."

"O Eden, tell me," said the mother faintly, recalling her senses bewildered by the shock of intelligence; "are you certain? Oh, where are my boys?"

"You will see them soon," he said very gently; and the next moment, to confirm his words, the door again new open, and Charlie Evson was wrapped in his mother's arms, and strained to her heart, and covered with her kisses, and his bright young face bathed in her tears of grat.i.tude and joy.

"Charlie, darling Charlie, where is Walter?" were her first words.

"What, don't you know me then, mother; and have you no kiss to spare for me?" said the playful voice of a boy enveloped in a sailor's blue sh.e.l.l-jacket; and then it was Walter's turn to feel in that long embrace what is the agonising fondness of a mother's love.

Kenrick was looking on a little sadly--not envious, but made sorrowful by memory. But the next moment Walter, taking him by the hand, had introduced him to his mother and she kissed him too on the cheek. "Your name is so familiar to me, Kenrick," she said; "and you have shared their dangers."

"Walter has twice saved my life, Mrs Evson," he answered, "and this time, I trust, he has saved it in more senses than one."

The boys' story was soon told. Just as their boat was beginning to sink, and the bitterness of death seemed over, Walter caught sight of the lights of a ship, and saw her huge dark outline looming not far from them, and towering above the waves. Instantly he and Charlie had shouted with all the frantic energy of reviving hope. By G.o.d's mercy their shouts had been heard; in spite of the risk and difficulty caused by the turbulence of the night, the ship hove to, the long-boat was manned, and the amazed sailors had rescued them not ten minutes before their wretched boat swirled round and sank to the bottom.

Nothing could exceed the care and tenderness with which the sailors and the good captain of the _Morning Star_ had treated them. The genial warmth of the captain's cabin, the food and wine of which they stood so much in need, the rest and quiet, and a long, long sleep, continued for nearly twenty-four hours, had recruited their failing strength, and restored them to perfect health. Past Saint Winifred's Bay extends for miles and miles a long range of iron-bound coast, and this circ.u.mstance, together with the violence of the breeze blowing away from land, had prevented the captain from having any opportunity of putting them ash.o.r.e until the morning of this day, when, with kind-hearted liberality, he had also supplied them with the money requisite to pay their way to Saint Winifred's.

"You can't think how jolly it was on board, mother," said Charlie.

"I've learnt all about ships, and it was such fun; and they were all as kind to us as possible."

"You mustn't suppose we didn't think of you, mother dearest," said Walter, "and how anxious you would be; but we felt sure you would believe that some ship had picked us up."

"Yes, Walter; and to taste this joy is worth any past sorrow," said his mother. "You must thank your friend Eden for mainly keeping up my spirits, for he was almost the only person who maintained that you were still alive."

"And now, Mrs Evson," said Power, "you must spare them for ten minutes, for the masters and all the school are impatient to see and congratulate them."

The whole story had spread among the boys in ten minutes, and they were again proud to recognise Walter's chivalrous daring. When he appeared in the blue jacket with which Captain Peters had replaced the loss of his coat, with Kenrick's arm in his, and holding Charlie's hand, cheer after cheer broke from the a.s.sembled boys; and finally, unable to repress their joy and enthusiasm, they lifted the three on their shoulders and chaired them all round the court.

You may suppose that it was a joyful dinner party that evening at Dr Lane's. Mr Evson, as they had conjectured, had heard of his son's safety in London from the captain of the _Morning Star_, to whom he had tendered his warmest and most grateful thanks, and to whom, before leaving London, he had presented, in testimony of his grat.i.tude, an exquisite chronometer. Returning to Saint Winifred's he found his two boys seated happily in the drawing-room awaiting him, each with their mother's hand in theirs, and in the company of their best boy-friends.

Walter was still in the blue sh.e.l.l-jacket, which became him well, and which neither Mrs Lane nor the boys would suffer him to change. It was indeed an evening never to be forgotten, and hardly less joyous and memorable was the grand breakfast which the Sixth gave to Walter and Kenrick in memory of the event, and to which, by special exception, little Charlie was also invited.

Rejoicings are good, but they were saved for greater and better things.

These three young boys had stood face to face with sudden death. Death, as it were, had laid his hand on their shoulders, had taken them by the hair and looked upon them, and bade them commune with themselves; and, when he released them from that stern cold grasp, it gave to their lives an awful reality. It did not quench, indeed, their natural mirthfulness, but it filled them with strong purposes and high thoughts.

Kenrick returned to Saint Winifred's a changed boy; long-continued terror had quite altered the expression of his countenance, but, while this effect soon wore off, the _moral_ effects produced in him were happily permanent. He began a life in earnest; for him there was no more listlessness, or moody fits of sorrow, or bursts of wayward self-indulgence. He became strenuous, diligent, modest, earnest, kind; he too, like Walter and Charlie, began his career "_from strength to strength_." Under him, and Power, and Walter, and others, whom their influence had formed or who had been moulded by the tradition they had left behind them, Saint Winifred's flourished more and more, and added new honours and benefits to its old and famous name. At the end of that half-year Power left, but not until he had won the Balliol Scholarship and carried off nearly all the prizes in the school. Walter succeeded him as head of the school; and he and Kenrick (who was restored to his old place on the list) worked heart and soul together for the good of it. In those days it was indeed in a happy and prosperous state-- renowned and honoured without, well governed and high toned within. Dr Lane felt and acknowledged that much of this success was due to the example and to the vigour of these head boys. Power, when he left, was beloved and distinguished; Walter and Kenrick trod in his steps. To the boundless delight of the school they too carried off in one year the highest open scholarship at each University; and when they also left, they had been as successful as Power, and were, if possible, even more universally beloved. Whalley carried on for another year the high tradition, and, in due time, little Charlie also attained the head place in the school, and so behaved as to identify his name and Walter's with some of its happiest and wisest inst.i.tutions for many years.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

L'ENVOI.