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The Heir of Kilfinnan: A Tale of the Shore and Ocean, a novel by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 22 |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO Mr Finlayson and the two young ladies stood watching the progress of the labouring frigate. "Heaven have mercy on them," exclaimed the Widow O'Neil, extending her clasped hands towards the ship. "See, see, she draws towards the reef! No hope! no hope! She has struck! she has struck!" The fishwife spoke but too truly. Fearful seas came rolling in, and, meeting with an opposition not hitherto encountered, dashed in huge masses directly over her. In another instant, the foremast, hitherto standing, tottered and fell. Stout as were her timbers, unable to resist such fierce assaults, they were in a brief space burst asunder, and scattered around in the troubled sea. A cry of horror escaped the young ladies as they witnessed the fearful catastrophe. "Oh, how many brave men are at this moment carried into a watery grave!" exclaimed Lady Sophy. Nora was silent. A fearful apprehension seized her. "The last time we heard from Captain Denham, he told us that he was appointed to a frigate!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Oh, suppose that is the ship he commands?" "Can no one go to the help of those poor men?" asked Mr Finlayson. "Surely there are boats on the coast which might go off to them!" The fishwife turned as he spoke. "There are boats, sir, but it would be hard to find the men who would venture off in such a sea as that; but if, as I believe, the wind is falling, there is yet some hope; if it goes down as rapidly as it sometimes does in summer, frail as are our boats, we may be able to reach the frigate." The ship was too far off for those on shore to witness the dying struggles of those who were washed into the sea, but yet they could not tear themselves from the spot. Gradually the gale abated, seemingly contented with the mischief it had caused. Still, however, the seas rolled in with fearful force. Suddenly, a thought seemed to seize Widow O'Neil. "I must go, I must go!" she exclaimed. "If no men are to be found, I, at least, will go off!" "Why, you would not venture out in such a sea as that?" cried Mr Finlayson, calling after her as she began to descend the cliffs. "That I will, sir, and go alone if no men will accompany me." From the position of the coast in which the cottage was situated, it was easy to launch a boat, although the sea was agitated outside. On reaching her hut, the widow found her brother Shane standing outside it. "Shane," she exclaimed, "you promised to stand by me on all occasions, now prove your words. I am resolved to go out to yonder vessel; there may be some alive on board. My heart tells me there are, and we must save them. O stir up some of the other men, and bid them follow us, if they are worthy of the name of men." "I would go with you, sister," answered Shane, "if I could get others to go, but they will not raise a finger to save any on board a king's ship." "But sure, they are our fellow-creatures, brother Shane," exclaimed the fishwife. "Shame on the cowards if they dare not come, and shame on you, brother, if you will not help me. Listen now; I dreamed last night that he who has been so long away is coming back. It is not the first time I have dreamed it either, and you may say if you will, that this is only another fancy, but my days are numbered, and I know that before I die he will come back; he promised, and Dermot was not the boy to break his word. Come, Shane, come. Look, the sea has gone down, and you and I with your boy Patrick, though he may have less sense than other lads, will go off to the ship." The widow's exhortations made Shane promise to accompany her. Her boat was ill-fitted for the task, yet for some distance they could pull out under shelter of a point which projected north of the cove. As the wind had hauled round somewhat more to the north also, it might be possible to set a sail, and with less difficulty reach the frigate. Patrick was summoned, and with his father and the fishwife, the boat was launched. She was cleared of all superfluous lumber, while Shane lashed under her thwarts several empty casks, which would assist in giving her buoyancy. It was a simple attempt at a life-boat, yet with all these precautions, the old fishing craft was but ill-fitted for the undertaking. The fishwife again and again urged her brother to hasten his work, so eager was she to reach the wreck. At length the boat was ready. The boy was placed at the helm, and the fishwife and her brother took the oars. They pulled boldly out of the cove, and then along the shore for some distance, where the water was rather smoother than further out. Even there, however, the exertion was considerable, and those who looked on from above dreaded every moment to see the frail skiff overturned by the rough seas. Now, however, the head of the boat was turned seaward. Shane and his sister increased their exertions. Often the waters broke on board, when Patrick, steering with one hand, bailed it out with the other; still they continued their course. At length they succeeded in gaining a considerable distance from the shore, when the seas, as is sometimes the case, came with less force, and gradually sank in height. There was only one point where they could approach the wreck. Just within sight was a small bay, or opening in the reef; the seas on every other side were dashing over the frigate, and would have immediately overwhelmed the frail boat. Bravely they rowed on, and they might have put to shame many of the sturdy men who had collected on the shore. Several times those who watched the progress of the boat from the cliff fancied she was overwhelmed. Now she sank into the trough of the sea, and the huge wave seemed about to dash over her. Again rising to the summit of a foam-crested wave, she was tossed for a few seconds ere she plunged into the watery vale below. More than once Shane proposed setting a sail, but the widow declared that her arms were still strong enough to pull the boat, and that it would considerably prolong the time before they could reach the wreck, as it would thus be impossible to make a straight course. She seemed, indeed, endued with super-human strength, for even her brother's arms began to fail him. Again and again she urged him to renewed exertions, with a voice tremulous with eagerness. "We shall reach the ship before long--we shall reach the ship," she kept exclaiming; "row, Shane, row. Oh, brother, if you have ever loved me, do not fail me now." Thus they continued rowing on. Not an hour before it would have been impossible for the boat to have made any progress; now, however, by the subsidence of the gale, the undertaking, though difficult and dangerous, was possible. As they drew near, even now several struggling forms were seen in the foaming waters, but ere they could reach them, one after another sank beneath the waves. A few, however were clinging to planks and spars, but the widow refused to go near them; it might have proved the destruction of the boat, had the attempt been made. "They are floating, and will in time reach the shore," she said to Shane, "or if the sea goes down still more, we may return to pick them up. There are still some alive on board the ship; even just now, I saw an arm waving. Row on, row on, we may yet be in time--we may yet be in time." The larger portion of the wreck had before this, however, been broken up, but the after-part and the starboard side of the quarter-deck remained entire. As the boat approached the wreck, broken planks and timbers continued to be washed away, till but a small portion appeared to remain. By persevering efforts, the boat, however, drew nearer and nearer, avoiding, though not without difficulty, the masses of wreck which floated by. As the fishwife and her brother looked up, they saw two human beings still clinging to the remaining fragments of the ship; one was waving his hand as if to urge them to greater speed. No other human beings were to be seen on board. A few had just before apparently committed themselves to a raft, and with this support were now approaching the shore. They had, however, passed at some little distance from the boat. Sea after sea rolling in dashed against the wreck, sometimes the spray almost hiding those on board from view. Larger and larger portions continued to give way; every sea which rolled in carried off the timbers or more planks from the sides. The boat was within fifty fathoms or so of the rocks, Shane looking out anxiously for any part of the wreck by which it might be approached with least danger. It seemed scarcely possible for them to get near enough to aid those on board. "I fear, sister, we shall be too late," exclaimed Shane; "even now yonder sea which comes in looks as if it were about to tear the remainder of the wreck to fragments." With a thundering sound the sea he pointed at broke against the wreck. In an instant the remaining masses of timber gave way, and were dashed forward into the boiling sea. "Pull on, Shane, pull on," cried the widow. "I see two men still struggling in the waves; one is supporting the other, and guarding him from the timbers which float around." "Which timbers may stave in the boat, and drown us all," observed Shane. "No matter, Shane, pull on--pull on; let us not set our lives against those of the brave men who are floating yonder. What matters it after all if we are lost? Death can come but once to any of us." It is impossible to give the force of those words, uttered, as they were, in the native tongue of the Irish, which she spoke. "Pull on, Shane, pull on," again she cried. "Boy, steer for those men; see, they are still floating above the waves." In spite of the masses of timber, which appeared to be thrown providentially on either side, the boat approached the two men, who still floated above the water. "Save him, friends; never mind me," said a voice as they lifted the person he supported, and who, by his uniform appeared to be an officer, into the arms of Shane, he himself holding on to the gunnel of the boat. The officer was quickly placed in the stern-sheets, when Shane helped his companion on board, and then again grasping his oar, pulled the boat safely round before the sea had time to catch her on the beam and overturn her. The seaman hauled out of the water, the stimulus to exertion having ceased, sank down fainting by the side of his officer. The danger of returning was as great as that which they experienced in approaching the wreck. The spray flew over them, and it seemed that every billowy wave would overwhelm the frail bark. All this time they were watched eagerly by the young ladies and their old friend from the cliff above. On the boat came; now a vast sea threatened her with instant destruction, but the fishwife and her brother, rowing till the stout oars bent with their exertions, urged on their boat and escaped the danger. Nearer and nearer she approached the shore; now a huge roller came thundering up close to her stern, and seemed about to turn her over and over, but it broke just before it reached her, and by vigorous strokes, forced ahead, she escaped its power. In another instant lifted on a foaming sea, she glided forward, arriving high up on the sandy beach of the little cove. "There are two people in her," exclaimed Nora, who had been eagerly watching them. "We will go down and help them, for they evidently require assistance." "Those two poor fellows must be nearly drowned," observed Mr Finlayson, as he accompanied the ladies to the hut. "I wish we had a medical man here, but for the want of one, I must take his place and prescribe for them. These fishermen are more likely to kill than to revive them by their rough treatment. Come, I will push ahead and try to save the men before they press the breath out of their bodies." In spite, however, of the active movements of the lawyer, the young ladies kept up with him, and they arrived in front of the cottage just as Shane and his son, aided by the widow, were lifting one of the men they had saved out of the boat. She insisted on taking the seaman first, and not till she had carried him up and placed him on her own bed would she help to carry the other. The lawyer, however, arrived in time to aid Shane in carrying up the young officer, for such he appeared to be. As soon as they arrived at the hut, the apparently drowned man was placed by Mr Jamieson's orders in front of the fire, then, having taken off his coat, he knelt down and gently rubbed his chest. On the arrival of the young ladies, such blankets and clothes as the widow possessed were, by the lawyer's directions, placed to warm before the fire, that the half-drowned men might be wrapped in them. No sooner, however, did Lady Nora's eyes fall on the officer's countenance, than she uttered an agonised cry, and threw herself by his side. "Oh, it is Captain Denham--it is Captain Denham!" she exclaimed, "and he is dead--he is dead." Pale and trembling she hung over him. "No, my dear young lady," observed the lawyer, "he is still breathing, and I trust that he will soon recover,--I already indeed see signs of returning consciousness." While Nora, regardless of all conventionalities, was assisting the lawyer and her cousin in rubbing the captain's hands and feet, the widow was bending over the inanimate form of the seaman. "Shane," she exclaimed, "I told you my boy would come back, and here he is; I feel it, I know it. Oh, Dermot, Dermot, speak to me," she exclaimed. "Do not die now that you have come as you promised. Surely it is not to break your old mother's heart that you have just returned to die in her arms?" Hearing these exclamations, the old lawyer turned round, and went to the side of the widow. "You will be wiser, my good woman, if you were to place some hot clothes upon his chest, and chafe his hands and feet, instead of calling out in that way. There is no fear about him; he has over-exerted himself, and his immersion in salt water has for the time deprived him of his senses; but stay, I see you have a kettle boiling on the hearth. It is time now to pour some hot whisky and water down his throat. As I left the castle, I took the precaution of putting a flask into my pocket." Saying this, the kind old man mixed a mug of spirits and water, which he at once applied to the sailor's lips. It slipped without difficulty down his throat. The effect was almost instantaneous; he opened his eyes and looked around with astonishment. "Dermot, speak to me, my boy, my own boy," exclaimed the widow in Irish, as she threw her arms around his neck. "What does she say?" he asked, in a faint voice. "Dermot, Dermot, speak to me," she again exclaimed, but this time she spoke in English. "That is not my name, good mother," answered the seaman; "you must be mistaken; I am not your son. I never was in these parts before except once, when I came with my captain, though I have often enough been off the coast with him and others." "Not my son--not my son," ejaculated the widow, gazing at him, and putting back his hair, and again looking at his countenance. "Oh, how have I been deceived, and do you again say that your name is not Dermot O'Neil?" exclaimed the widow, wringing her hands, "and I thought I had brought my boy safe on shore, and that he was to be folded once more in his mother's arms. Oh, Dermot O'Neil--Dermot O'Neil, why are you thus keeping so long, long away from the mother who loves you more than her own life?" The young officer, who by this time had been revived by the application of the good lawyer's remedies, now wildly gazed around him. "That voice," he exclaimed, as if to himself; "I believed that she was long ago numbered with the dead, and yet it must be. Oh! mother, mother, I am Dermot O'Neil," he cried out to her, "your long absent son." The widow rushed across the room, and patting aside those who kneeled around him, she threw herself by his side. "You Dermot, you my son Dermot?" she exclaimed, looking at him. "Oh, how could I for a moment have been deceived?" She bent over him, and pressed many a kiss upon his brow. "Yes, those eyes, I know them now, and those features, too; I cannot again be deceived. No, no, see here is the sign by which I should have known him, even though he had been given back to me as I dreaded, a lifeless corpse. But my Dermot is alive, my Dermot has come back to me." As she spoke she drew back the sleeve of his shirt, and there upon his arm she exhibited the blood-red cross with which her son had been born. During this scene, the countenance of Lady Nora exhibited many changes; now a deadly pallor overspread her face, then again the rich blood rushed back from her heart. Still she kneeled by Captain Denham's side. His strength gradually returned, and supported in the arms of the old fishwife, he sat up. His face was turned away from Nora, and his eyes rested on the features of the former. He took her hand between his. "Mother," he whispered, "I have been cruelly deceived. The only letter I received from my native land told me that you were dead, and from henceforth I felt the tie which had bound me to it was severed. Once I returned to it, and my fondest wish was to visit again the cottage where I was born, made sacred to me because it had been your dwelling. I was prevented from carrying out my intention, and from that day to this I have never had the opportunity of returning, but the life you have saved shall be henceforth devoted to watching over you, I have gained fame in my profession, and I prize it, but it is nothing compared to the joy of being restored to you. Oh, mother, I have loved you as a son should his parent who has loved him as you have done me." "Dermot, my boy, dear Dermot, I never doubted your love. I have always said that you were true and faithful, and now you have proved it; but, my son, I shall not long require your care. My days are numbered; but I knew that you would come back, and I was not deceived. My prayers were heard in spite of all the threats and curses of Father O'Rourke. Now I have pressed you to my heart once more, and when I have seen you strong and hearty, I shall be content to place my head under the green turf and sleep in peace." During this scene Lady Sophy and the lawyer had retired to the further end of the hut. Mr Finlayson had, in the meantime, suggested to Shane, that he might assist the seaman, who was earnestly inquiring for his captain. "It is all right," he exclaimed, when told that Captain Denham was doing well. "Heaven be praised that he is saved, when so many fine fellows have lost their lives. We were sadly short-handed on board the frigate, or I do not believe this would have happened; but the gale was cruelly against us. Are we the only ones who have escaped from the wreck?" "I hope not," answered Shane. "I saw a raft drifting towards the bay with several people on her, and many more may have been washed on shore on planks and spars." "Then we should be up, and go and help them," exclaimed Ned Davis, endeavouring to haul on his wet jacket. "Are we to let our shipmates perish and lie here idle? It is not what the captain would have thought of; and if he had not been wounded he would have been up now, and looking out to help them." This was the first intimation Mr Finlayson had that Captain Denham was wounded. "Why, that must be looked to," he observed. "Really, I do not think he can be attended to properly in this hut. We must manage to get a litter of some sort to carry him to the castle." This remark was made to Lady Sophy. She appeared to hesitate. "What will Nora say?" she observed. "Say! my dear lady! What possible difficulty can there be about the matter," exclaimed the lawyer. He might not have interpreted aright the agitation exhibited by Lady Nora on discovering the parentage of the rescued officer. _ |
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