Читать книгу A Man Under Authority - Ethel M. Dell - Страница 12

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It was a sense of expediency rather than anything else that aroused Bill from that stupor of exhaustion. His first conscious thought was for Gaspard, but behind that thought was a curious feeling of some other presence in that white-walled cove. He raised himself on his elbows and so to his knees and looked around.

Gaspard was close to him, huddled together and shivering violently. In his scanty bathing-dress the boy looked little more than a skeleton. His head was pillowed on his arms, and only the ghastly white of one hollowed cheek was visible. He might have been dead save for that spasmodic trembling.

Bill gave himself a shake and recovered his own equilibrium. In another moment he was bending over Gaspard.

“Wake up, old boy! You’re all right,” he said, but it was to reassure himself rather than Gaspard that he said it.

He took him gently by the shoulders as he made no movement and lifted him up. Gaspard’s head fell back. His teeth were chattering, his limbs cramped and powerless. His eyes looked up to Bill’s with piteous appeal, but he was incapable of speech.

“All right,” Bill said. “All right. Don’t you worry! I’ll manage.”

He thrust his arms beneath the meagre form and lifted it. It was no easy matter, spent as he was, but he accomplished it urged by that compelling sense of expediency. Then, with infinite care, he turned to make his way over the rocks, and came face to face with Gaspard’s mother.

“Oh!” she said. “Oh! It is you!”

She stood gasping, her hands hard clasped over her heart, and the anguish of her face was such as Bill was to remember with a poignant vividness for long after. He saw in a moment that she thought her boy was dead.

“He’ll soon be better,” he told her hastily, for that stricken look of hers went straight to his heart. “Show me the best way to the shore, and we’ll soon rub a little life into him!”

“Ah!” she said, and he heard the great breath of relief that broke from her. “You—have saved him!”

And then she turned and went back over the rocks in front of him, leading the way.

Her face, when he saw it again, was quite composed, almost rigidly so. She helped him to lay down his burden on the stones, and she took Gaspard’s head into her lap while Bill knelt beside him and vigorously rubbed the helpless limbs till at length he partially succeeded in restoring the circulation.

“We must get him into his clothes,” he said. “Where are they?”

“I expect he came down without them. Will you support him while I go and fetch Benedict?” said Mrs. Rivers.

He accepted the suggestion, for it seemed the only course. “Don’t run all the way!” he said.

She smiled at the injunction, and he knew that she would go with the speed of a hare. But he also recognized that it would probably be a more lengthy business if he went instead.

Gaspard made a feeble attempt to detain her, but desisted when Bill took her place.

“You’re jolly good,” he managed to say between his blue, quivering lips.

“Not a bit of it,” said Bill cheerily. “I’d like to get you on your feet before your mother comes back. Shall we try?”

Gaspard negatived the suggestion with another attack of that ague-like shivering; but when it was over he yielded himself to Bill’s kindly persuasion and made heroic efforts to conquer his weakness.

He had but slight success at first, but finally with Bill’s strong support he managed to keep his legs from crumpling under him, though when he tried to move he turned so faint that Bill at once prohibited any further exertion.

“I don’t know why I am like this,” he said, as he sank down again. “I never have been before.”

“Perhaps you have never been fool enough to bathe in May before, my son,” said Bill. “I shouldn’t do it again if I were you, not until you are a good deal stronger than you are at present.”

“I am strong,” said Gaspard with a certain obstinacy. “I’m always strong. Why shouldn’t I bathe if I like?”

“For obvious reasons,” said Bill. “How’s the cramp? Getting better? Let’s have another rubbing turn! It’s doing me good too.”

Again he applied himself energetically to the task of trying to bring a little warmth into the boy’s chill body till Gaspard suddenly put forth shaking hands and stopped him.

“Don’t! Don’t, I say! I’m much better—heaps better. And look here! Look here,—I want to say something.”

“Wait a bit!” said Bill. “There’s my coat over there. You’d better have it round you.”

“No, wait! Wait! Let me say it!” urged Gaspard. “Look here! You—you saved my life and—it damn’ nearly cost you your own. I don’t know how to say it. But—but—” something caught in his throat, preventing utterance; his hand groped rather pathetically for Bill’s.

“Oh, rot—rot!” said Bill kindly. “It was up to me to do what I could. One has got to do that. But the other part—well, I hadn’t much to do with that. That was God’s part. He would have saved you just the same, if I hadn’t been there.”

He spoke with absolute simplicity; Gaspard’s hand was hard gripped in his own. The icy fingers clung to his, but the boy’s head was bent.

“You seriously believe that?” he said, speaking with some effort.

“Believe it! I know it,” said Bill.

He waited a moment, but Gaspard said no more. He was beginning to shiver again. Quietly Bill released himself and went in search of his coat.

Returning, he put it round him, and then sat down beside him in silence to wait.

He knew it would not be for long, but he listened in some anxiety for the sound of footsteps, for Gaspard’s look made him uneasy, and the shivering had become incessant.

He heard voices on the cliff-path at length with intense relief, and got up to go and meet the rescue-party.

“Don’t go!” said Gaspard.

“All right, old chap! Here’s your mother!” he made reassuring answer. “I only want to let her know all’s well.”

He moved to meet her as she came out into the sunshine. Benedict was behind her carrying blankets, his brown face wrinkled with deep concern not unmixed with suspicion as his look lighted upon Bill.

Mrs. Rivers came swiftly forward. “Is he any better? Have you——”

“He soon will be,” said Bill. “Is that brandy? Good! I was afraid you wouldn’t think of that, but I needn’t have worried.”

He took the flask she carried, and turned back with it to Gaspard.

“Here, old chap! The very stuff for you! This’ll put you right in no time.”

He knelt to administer it, and Gaspard’s mother knelt on the other side, her arm about him, in her face a warmth of tenderness that was beyond words. Looking at her, Bill had an odd feeling that was almost a sense of trespass. It seemed to him that he saw more in that moment than their brief acquaintance warranted, far more than weeks of ordinary intercourse would have revealed to him. Again the conviction came upon him very strongly that this woman had a beautiful soul.

Gaspard swallowed the brandy, and she drew his head to her shoulder with a fondling gesture, speaking no word.

Bill motioned to Benedict to wrap a blanket round the boy as he lay. Then for a space they remained in silence, waiting.

Overhead, a lark was in full song in the cloudless sky. From the beach below came the soft wash of the rising tide. But in the little cove itself no one spoke or moved. It was as if a spell had been laid upon the four who were gathered there.

Some minutes passed. Mrs. Rivers, with eyes downcast, still held her boy against her breast. Gaspard, the awful shivering past, lay quite motionless in her arms, his eyes closed, his whole body relaxed as if in sleep. The French servant stood like a statue, quite rigid and expressionless, his black eyes fixed upon the mother and son. And Bill, feeling more and more of an intruder, stood dumbly by, valiantly suppressing the fact that he was shivering himself in his wet clothes, and holding himself in readiness for the need which he knew to be at hand.

Very suddenly he became aware that Mrs. Rivers’s eyes were raised to his. He saw them fully for the first time, and was struck, as Mrs. Winch had been struck, by something strange in their depths. They had an intensity that was curiously arresting. Not till some time after did he question himself as to their colour. It was their expression that haunted him, reminding him vividly of something which yet persistently eluded him.

She did not speak, merely smiled and indicated the flask which he still held in his hand.

Then he knew that she was thinking of him, and a sudden warmth went through him, spreading inwards till it reached his heart. How wonderful she was!

Mutely, with an answering smile, he obeyed her unspoken wish and drank from the flask. Then, as the chill went out of his blood, he bent down and spoke.

“I think we might get him back now. I’ll carry him. He isn’t very heavy, and your man can lend a hand if necessary.”

“Oh, do you think you can?” she said.

“Of course I can,” said Bill.

“He might be able to walk,” she said doubtfully.

“No; don’t let him try!” said Bill.

Gaspard stirred and slowly raised himself. “I don’t want anybody to carry me,” he said. “I can walk.”

“You’re not going to,” said Bill.

Gaspard’s eyes flashed up to his with an instant’s rebellion, but the next moment he smiled. “All right,—padre!” he said. “Have it your own way—and be damned to you!”

“Gaspard!” said his mother.

He turned to her. “It’s all right, dear. He’s a friend. I shouldn’t say that to anybody I didn’t like. Besides, he isn’t just a parson—he’s a man.”

“Thank you,” said Bill. “The compliment is duly registered. I am glad you recognize that it is possible to be both.”

“You’re the only specimen I’ve met,” said Gaspard.

“You haven’t lived very long yet, have you?” said Bill.

Gaspard gave him a swift, sidelong glance. “Longer than most fellows of my age,” he said.

“Which isn’t saying much,” said Bill.

“Which is saying a good deal,” said Gaspard, and leaned back against his mother’s shoulder again with a sigh.