The Scarecrow and Other Stories Part 14

"I can see that."

"Pa--come on back--to sh.o.r.e."

"You get on back, Sally. It'll blow over."

She turned to him then.

"You tell him;" she said it desperately. "You--tell--him."

He waited until he got just alongside of the fishing smack.

"It's going to be--a--bad--one."

He said it slowly.

He thought then that the angry swirling of the sea became more infuriated; that the swell of the waves was greater. Far in the distance he heard the inhuman, piercing shriek of the sea-gulls.

"Who's that there, Sally?"

"It's--me."

He saw that both of the men in the smack leaned toward him.

"What?"

"It's--it's--me."

"You!"

"Go on back, Pa;--Will, make him--go on back. Get the others to go;--please--Pa;--please."

For answer he heard the man's shout to the other boats about the nets.

"Storm--lads;--make--for--sh.o.r.e."

He saw a moment's hesitation in that cl.u.s.ter of fishing smacks and then one by one he watched them pull away from the nets and row toward the beach.

He reached out his hand and caught hold of the other boat's gunwale.

"Make--the little girl--go--back with--you."

"Come on, Sally. Hop across there. Pa'll help you."

"We'll follow you, Pa."

"All right."

"Tell--the--little girl--to go with you!"

"With--me?"

"Tell--her!"

"You go on, Pa. We'll come right after you."

He felt the boat at his side give a quick lurch. His hand slipped into the water. He could feel the sea pulling at it. His own smack rocked perilously for a second. And then he saw the girl's father and brother rowing toward the beach.

"What--what'd--you--do--that--for?"

She did not answer him.

A wave broke over the bow of his boat.

In the darkness he could see her crawling on her hands and knees along the bottom of the smack to him. He reached down and caught her up in his arms.

"Will they get back--safe?" She whispered it.

"Yes."

"Sure?"

"They're there--now."

And then the storm broke. The lightning flashed in zigzagging, blindly flares across the dark of the sky. The thunder rumbled in clattering crescendo. The sea tore and swirled and sucked. Wave after wave broke over the small boat. She rocked and pitched and swivelled. The oars were washed away. The rain and the wind stung them with their fury. The spray cut into their faces. From far off came the uncanny, inhuman, piercing sound of the sea-gulls' shrieking.

He knew then that the time had come.

He held her very close to him.

He had filched his soul from the sea. He who was something come from the sea, and of the sea; and always belonging to the sea.

He had betrayed the sea.

"Little girl."

"I'm not--afraid."

"Little girl."

"I couldn't stay on--without you. I always knew--always--that some time you'd--go--back."

"You're not--scared?"

"Just--hold--me--tight."

The foam covered seething breadth of the water churning itself into white spumed frenzy. The dark, lowering skies. The black deep pull of the sea.

"Tighter--"