Читать книгу A Novel Without a Name - William Aubrey Burnage - Страница 7

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Next morning Mabel's' eyes were open a full hour before daybreak; and directly it was light enough to see to dress, she rose, and in her anxiety to reach her mother's side, opened the window to judge of the weather. A cold mistling rain was falling, and the wind in cutting gusts blew into her face as she threw up the sash. 'O dear, it's raining!' she exclaimed sorrowfully, closing the window again. 'But we must go; Mamma will be sure to be waiting!'

She hurriedly dressed, and went down stairs, where she found Janet busy superintending the preparations for an early breakfast; and in a few minutes Mr. Wilton rattled up to the door in a cab. There was not much time for talking, as Mr. Wilton was afraid of missing the train; and Mabel had barely time to swallow a cup of coffee, when her father hurried her into the cab.

'Mamma and I will come and see you, Janet, when we come back!' Mabel called to her cousin, as the cabman pulled down the shutters to keep out the rain and sleet, and sprang to his driving seat.

Presently they were comfortably seated in the train and speeding on towards Dover. The journey was not a long one, but to the anxious child the swift train seemed to go very, very slow.

'Oh, I wish I was at Lady Maud's! I do so long to see mamma again!' she exclaimed every few minutes.

Her father soothed her impatience, as well as he could; and bye-and-bye Dover was reached. Mr. Wilton took a fly and a few minutes drive brought them to Lady Maud's mansion, situated on a beautiful elevation, that commanded a fine view of the open sea.

'How wild the sea looks!' exclaimed Lady Maud, as Mr. Wilton lifted Mabel from the fly. 'We got a letter last night from Mrs. Wilton, that the Albatross, my brother's yacht, you know, put back again into Calais yesterday morning, through the bad weather; but that they expected to start during the night.'

'What, is Mrs. Wilton not here? I had a letter to say she would be here on Wednesday,' exclaimed Mr. Wilton, anxiously.

'She intended to come over in the regular steam-packet, but my sister-in-law persuaded her to wait for her and come in their yacht.'

'What, isn't mamma here?' Mabel asked, in a tone of deep disappointment.

'No, dear! But she will be sure to be here to-day, if the weather gets calmer,' replied Lady Maud, kindly.

'I had such terrible dreams about mamma last night!' said Mabel, almost in a whisper, and shuddering at the recollection. 'I thought mamma and I went down in a diving bell, and they couldn't pump any air down; and mamma was smothered; and I was nearly smothered too! Oh, it was a horrible dream! I could hardly breathe when I woke up.'

'It was only the nightmare, Mabel,' replied Lady Maud. 'You must not think of it now.'

'I will go down to the pier, and ascertain whether the morning's packet is in, and if so, I can learn whether Lord John put to sea last night. Now, don't look so gloomy, Birdie! It is too cold and wet for you to come!' and Mr. Wilton kissed his little girl, and turned towards the town.

'Oh, don't be long, papa!'

'Not longer than I can help, Mabel. I shall return directly I have seen the captain of the steam packet.'

'Stay for breakfast first, Mr. Wilton; you could make any enquiries afterwards, could you not?' said Lady Maud.

'No, no! I am very anxious to learn if the yacht started,' he replied, and waving his hand, walked on briskly; and Lady Maud led Mabel into the house.

'It was foolish of Emilie to lose the chance of coming over in the packet!' soliloquised Mr. Wilton, as he hurried down to the pier. 'These yachts may be safe enough, but I have a great dread of them. Ever since I was wrecked in the Fire Fly when a boy, they have been a terror to me!'

A number of people were collected on the pier, when Mr. Wilton reached it, all intently watching for the steam packet then more than an hour overdue. A brawny old salt turned to Mr. Wilton as he reached the end of the pier, 'Havn't seen such a sea in the straits since I ran away to join the old Maria, when I was a lad.'

'It is very rough indeed!'

'Never seen anything like it?'

'The packet is not in yet?'

'Aren't likely to come in, I'm thinking, sir! I don't believe anything could live in that sea!' returned the sailor, gloomily. He had a boy, an apprentice aboard the packet; and he was almost overpowered by dread anticipation; but his emotions lay deep in his honest heart, and could not be seen through his rough exterior.

'I don't expect the packet has started!' said Mr. Wilton, wrapping his cloak closer around him, and speculating upon the probability of the yacht also having staid in safety. 'There is no appearance of any vessel in the offing!'

'That's no proof, I'm sorry to say, Sir!' replied the sailor, brushing a tear from his eyes. 'You can't see three miles off through the rain!'

'I expect this weather has lasted all night; and so no one would be likely to put out!' Mr. Wilton observed, after scanning the horizon anxiously for a few minutes in silence.

'That's where the devil of it is, sir!' returned the sailor roughly, 'It's not been blowing like this more than a couple of hours; it just came down like a monsoon in the Indian Ocean. No, sir! You may depend on it, that every vessel that was coming out, did come out, for the glass didn't begin to run down till three o'clock this morning.'

A minute gun here interrupted their conversation, and the sailor ran off towards the life-boat shed.

'Good job, Wilton, there's nobody belonging to us aboard the packet, this morning,' said an officer hurrying by.

Mr. Wilton shuddered. Was his wife not even in greater danger aboard a holiday yacht?

'Can you see anything?' he asked, of a gentleman, who was looking through a telescope.

'Yes! There's the morning's boat about three miles off through the mist. The weather is so thick, you can barely see a couple of miles with the naked eye,' replied the gentleman without removing the glass.

'Is she likely to weather it?' Mr. Wilton asked again.

'I didn't hear you for the gun!' the other answered, looking round.

'Is she likely to weather it?'

'I think so! It is not her firing.'

'My God, there is not another vessel out, is there!' Mr. Wilton exclaimed in terror, and unceremoniously snatching the glass away.

'Yes. There's a small boat in under the coast. I can't see what she is, the haze is too thick.'

Mr. Wilton's hand trembled with anxiety, as he raised the telescope in the direction pointed out. 'Look, there she is, quite plain now,' he said, handing the glass back. 'For heaven's sake, tell me, is it a schooner or a yacht?'

The stranger took the glass, and carefully examined the little vessel for a few minutes. 'You are expecting friends on some little sailing vessel?' he asked cautiously.

'Yes! Yes! Is that a yacht!'

'You expect your friends aboard a yacht?' returned the stranger slowly.

'Yes! Aboard the Albatross! Do you know her?'

'No! But that little vessel close in there is a small Dutch schooner, or I never saw one!' he replied, closing the telescope; and muttered to himself as he turned away. 'It may not be the same yacht his friends are on, so it's no use to alarm him needlessly. He will know soon enough if they are; for that yacht'll never live out this hurricane.

Partly reassured, Mr. Wilton slowly turned towards a point of the shore to which he saw a crowd hurrying in the teeth of the blinding hurricane; and in about a quarter of an hour reached a low, chalky beach opposite to the distressed vessel, from which, as regularly and solemnly as the tolling of a funeral bell, boomed the dismal minute gun at sea; and nearer and nearer with each successive signal, the furious gale drifted her to destruction.

The scene was a truly grand one. There may be no beauty in the terrible struggle of wind and wave in the fierce hurricane, but the grandeur, and sublimits of the scene is beyond description. The sea, so bright and blue under the sunshine, was now black and terrible in its great unrest; and the waves swelled and towered till they seemed ambitious of joining issue with the grim clouds above them; and the shrill voice of the storm, shrieked and yelled across the deck of the yacht, and among the chalk cliffs along the coast.

'How far is she off now?' asked a bystander, of one of the crew of the life boat.

'Two miles!' returned the sailor, springing into the boat after his mates, and pushing off.

Every eyes followed the buoyant but frail boat, as, impelled by strong arms and brave hearts, it shot on through the yeasty billows to the rescue of those aboard the distressed little vessel.

'That yacht'll never float till they reach her!' said a looker on.

'Yacht! Is it a yacht?' Mr. Wilton exclaimed in terror.

'She's a yacht right enough. But what her name is, we can't see from here.'

The yacht, as if instinct with life, and feeling that the only escape for her terrified passengers lay through the life bout, drifted on swiftly to meet it.

'She's settling down!' exclaimed one excitedly.

'There's something wrong with her helm,' cried another, 'see, she's swinging round right broadside on.'

Every eye was strained to aching in watching the dangerous position of the yacht, now barely three-quarters of a mile away.

'She's gone!'

'No! It's only the rollers! She's up again!'

The men in the life-boat strained every nerve in the struggle to reach the yacht. Not a word was spoken; but each brave man of the crew pulled as though it were to save his own that they were bent; and upon the shore Mr. Wilton, with a heavy heart, and a deep presentiment of evil, watched their progress with tear-filled eyes.

The officer, who had spoken to Mr. Wilton on the pier, came up.

'Ah, Major Graham! This is a fearful gale!'

'It is indeed! That's Lord Talbot's yacht, the Albatross, Wilton. I hope he's not aboard; for no power of man can keep her off the shore, unless the wind fell dead calm in a twinkling.'

'The Albatross? Good heavens not, Graham! My wife is aboard of her!' Mr. Wilton exclaimed in horror. 'Oh, why ever did she not come in the steam packet!'

Major Graham bit his lips. 'Perhaps I am mistaken. Yachts are so much alike; and one can't see very clearly through the rain!'

'My Emilie, my darling, you are lost! you are lost; and I can do nothing to save you!' Mr. Wilton groaned wildly.

'See, Wilton, see: the life-boat is nearing her rapidly. It will take Mrs. Wilton off if she's aboard, long before the yacht reaches the shore!'

'God grant it may!' the grief-stricken husband said despondingly.

'Another ten minutes and they meet,' said an old man who was intently watching the yacht through a glass. 'The crew are preparing to throw a rope to the life-boat as they pass.'

'Lend me your glass for a moment, please,' said Major Graham.

'Can't see it!' returned the man gruffly.

'Well, will you sell it then!' Major Graham, said angrily.

'Don't mind, if I can make a shilling on it!' was the laconic reply.

'What do you want for it?'

'Well, I gave a pound; you can have it for twenty-five bob!' the fellow answered, removing his eye from the glass and turning to Major Graham; and the latter cut short further discussion by counting out the silver and buying the telescope.

'Now, good morning Mr. What-the-devil's-your-name! and may the day not be far off when you may want a glass as urgently as my friend here, and not have the cash to buy it with!' said the major with bitter scorn.

The man turned a quick glance on Mr. Wilton, 'Why, what's he want it for?'

'Got a wife aboard!' replied Major Graham curtly; as he turned the glass upon the drifting yacht.

The man glanced from one to the other, and then, catching the terrible meaning of the curse slank away, muttering with a shudder, 'He needn't have spoken to a fellow like that!'

'Let me see her;' Mr. Wilton asked after waiting for a few moments for his friend to speak.

'Look, the life-boat has all but reached them. You take the glass; I can see without it.'

Mr. Wilton's hand trembled so, that it was some seconds before he could bring the telescope to bear upon the yacht. 'They are flinging a rope to the life-boat,' he exclaimed anxiously, 'and—and—good heavens they're missed!'

Major Graham caught the glass as it fell from his friend's grasp. 'Don't despair, Wilton. She may not have gone aboard the yacht. Something may have prevented her at the last moment. Ah! They're throwing another rope.'

'Tell me! tell me, have they caught the life line? Can they save her?' Mr. Wilton cried in increasing agony.

'Thank heaven, yes! and the crew are pulling them up close under the stern.'

A few minutes anxious watching, and Major Graham reported, 'Three ladies have been safely lowered into the boat.'

'Thank God; she may be one of them! The men are now leaving the yacht;—four, five, six. God heavens, the sixth man's rope has broken, and he is lost!'

'Three ladies!' Wilton repeated to himself, feeling no interest in the loss of a man more or less. 'Three ladies; That would be Lady Augusta, Miss Desmond, and Emilie. Thank God they are saved.'

'Eight men rescued, Wilton, and two lost; and they with the ladies make eleven saved. They have cast the rope adrift, and are now pulling straight for this beach; but the yacht'll get here first I expect; for she's drifting broadside on.'

'I'll lay yer two to one the life-boat's in first!' said a man in drenched shooting jacket—a very unseasonable costume.

Swiftly the life-boat sped towards the crowd of spectators that lined the shore and pier, impelled as much by the terrible gale as the well-handled oars; and a shout of triumph rose above the voice of the tempest, as she proudly rose upon the mountain waves as they passed her. 'Ten minutes more and she will be safe,' cried Major Graham; and Mr. Wilton stood by with white face and hands clasped in the agony of suspense, waiting the issue of the terrible race between the frail boat and—Death.

A huge wave, almost literally mountain high, rose from the black bosom of the sea, a full quarter of a mile beyond the life-boat, and increasing in volume as it swept along, pursued the boat with the relentless speed of the destroying angel. As it rolled swiftly on the shouts of triumph died away, and the crowd waited in breathless anxiety to see whether the boat could live out the contest. Nearer and nearer it came till it appeared a high wall of green waters right behind the fleeing boat. Another moment, and the cry arose upon the wind like a wail of despair, 'It has swampt her! It has swampt her!' and the wave rolled on fathoms above the buried life boat.

No sound escaped the white lips of Mr. Wilton. He paced up and down upon the chalky sand, his eyes averted from the dreadful scene. For nearly two minutes, the waves rushed on towards the shore, the boat still beneath its dark waters, and then the hushed voice of the crowd on the shore rose again, as the buoyant and unconquerable boat burst dripping and wet from its watery grave:—'She's afloat again! They are saved!'

'Hurrah! Wilton, the brave little life boat is up again like a duck. There's no fear, but she'll weather it now,' cried Graham, slapping his friend heavily on the back. 'Come, look man, there she is as large as life, and as proud as a swan. Look, and thank your stars.'

Mr. Wilton glanced to where he had seen the boat disappear, afraid to believe the joyful news. 'Oh, thank God rather,' he cried fervently as its welcome truth flashed upon him.

The immense wave rolled on and from beneath it as it swept over, rose the boat; and to the surprise and delight of the crowd upon the shore, the crew were seen to throw their weight into their oars and pull landward with as strong and regular a stroke as they gave before submersion.

'It is the hand of God that has rescued her!' exclaimed Mr. Wilton, reverently, 'Nothing but a miracle could have saved her from death!'

'I have never seen anything like that before; and I've been a skipper these twenty years,' said an old sea lion close by.

'I have: but not on these coasts!' returned a brother salt, 'I was run over by a tidal wave in the mouth of the Amazon, about ten years ago, and carried five miles up the river, before the wave rolled off.'

'But there is'nt no tidal wave these seas!'

'No; but these big rollers, though they are not common, are seen sometimes. They are not often noticed, because it is not often there's a boat in the way to be run down!' returned the other.

Breathlessly, Mr. Wilton waited the approach of the life-boat, a hopeful smile upon his face. Nearer and nearer it came, its distance, lessening every instant as the force of wind and wave, freely seconded the strength of the rowers. Past the outer edge of a projecting point she swept, and in a few seconds rode in on the top of a high roller, and was thrown high and dry on the shore. As she grounded and the wave returned to the sea, a cheer arose, and a dozen pairs of strong arms snatched the dripping boat, and hauled it by main force high above reach of the returning wave. Mr. Wilton in his eagerness to reach his, roughly thrust aside a couple of sailors, who were holding the boat.

'Come, steady, mate! Don't be so forward,' said one surily; but catching sight of Mr. Wilton's face as two ladies only rose in the boat, he dug his companion in the ribs with his elbow, and whispered, 'Ned, this poor chap's lost somebody by the looks of him.'

'Bear up, Wilton! It is ill news we bring you!' said one of the gentlemen, springing from the boat, and turning to assist the ladies out, 'It will be hard for you to think so, but everything happens for the best.'

Without replying, Mr. Wilton staggered back, and for a few moments appeared likely to faint. Indeed, but that one of the sailors supported him, he must have fallen to the ground.

Recovering himself by a desperate effort, he asked in a broken voice, 'Where is she! Oh tell me! Did she come with you! Or—or I am afraid to hope it, did she stay behind?'

'The rope that she was tied in with slipped the knot when the wave went over us, and washed the unfortunate lady overboard sir,' said the coxswain of the life-boat.

'My God! Can it be so!' the agonised husband exclaimed piteously, burying his face in his hands.

With a rare delicacy the ladies forebode to worry him with their unavailing sympathy; and his friend Major Graham took his arm, and led him away. 'Don't forget you have a treasure left you yet, Wilton. Where is little Mabel.'

The mention of his daughter's name roused the mourner. 'My darling is at Lady Maud's waiting for her mother. How can I return and tell her she is dead?' he exclaimed in anguish.

'Come! The sooner the blow falls the sooner will its bitterness pass away!' replied Major Graham, and taking Mr. Wilton's arm led him back to Kent House, slowly followed by the survivors from the yacht.

They were still within hearing when the shouts arose, 'She's on the rocks!' and turning their eyes seaward for a moment the Albatross was beheld drifting helplessly upon the broken shore.