CHAPTER TEN. · Part 1

CHAPTER TEN.

WE BALE THE ROCK POOL.

Now there was very little done during the rest of our holidays; all I remember was, that instead of old Jonas Uggleston being very disagreeable, and making himself my father's enemy, he grew very civil and pleasant, and nodded to my father when they met, and called him "Captain."

He was wonderfully kind to me too, asking me into the house, and seeming very pleased whenever he knew that Bigley had come over to see me.

The news that there was lead and silver in the Gap soon spread, and a great many people came to see my father, and wanted to buy the little estate; but he said no, that he should work it himself, for he wanted some occupation; and he and the doctor planned it all out, how to begin in a small way; and men were set to work to wall in the part where the mine was to be opened, and to build sheds and pumping-house.

But after a few days this became monotonous to us boys, who had plenty of things to tempt us about the cliffs and the shore, and I'm going to put down one or two of our bits of adventure which we had about this time.

Our little bay or cove was one of three or four little bays within one big bay, formed by Norman's Head at the west and Barn's Nose in the east, and all round from point to point there was one tremendous wall or cliff of reddish or bluish rock, nowhere less than a couple of hundred feet high; and the only places where you could get down to the sea were at the heads of the coves, or where one of the little streams from the moor made its way down to the beach. Here and there when the tide was low lay patches of blackish sand, but the foot of the cliffs nearly all the way was one jumble of great rocks, beginning with lumps, say as big as a chest of drawers, and running up to rugged masses as large as cottages.

They did not look so big when you were up on the cliff path, six or seven hundred feet above them; but when the tide went down, and we boys went for a ramble over and among them, it was to find the smaller blocks nearly as high as our heads, while the big ones made the most magnificent climbing any lad could wish for who was an enemy to the knees of his breeches and the toes of his boots.

Of course we could have gone east or west along the cliff path as peaceably as the sheep; but what was a walk like that to wandering in and out among the sea-weed-hung masses, full of corners and ways as a maze; with rock pools amongst them, and chasms and rifts, and rock arches and hollows, and caves without end?

Some of these blocks were of a sort of limestone or grit, and they were rugged and rounded at the corner, and lumpy, but the slaty rocks were generally flat-sided, and split off regularly, forming smooth flat forms that often rose one above another in rough steps, so that you could easily climb to the tops, or, where they had fallen and split away from the cliff, and lay resting against one another, you could walk under what seemed to be like great stone lean-to sheds, whose floors were as often as not water as pure and clear as crystal.

It was a wonderful place, and never ceased to attract us, for there was always something to find when the tide had gone down leaving the rocks bare.

All the things that lived or grew upon them had been seen by us hundreds of times, but after some months at school they always seemed new again, and we got our little pawn nets and baskets, and went prawning with as great zest as ever.

There are plenty of ways to go prawning, I daresay, but I'll tell you how we managed. We each used to have a small ring net, fixed at the end of a six-foot stick that answered two or three purposes, and, with our little baskets slung at our backs, set off along the shore.

I remember one morning very well. It was about three weeks after finding the lead vein that Bob Chowne and Bigley came over to the Bay, and we started, our Sam saying that it was going to be a very low tide.

Off we went down by the little waterfall which came along by the back of our house, and down to the beach, getting as close to the sea as the rocks would let us, and looking out for the first pool where the sea had left a few prisoners.

We were not long in seeing one, and then the thing was to approach as quietly as possible and look in.

These pools were generally fringed with sea-weed, great greenish-brown fronds in one place, dark streaks of laver in another, and lower down the bottom would be all pink with the fine corallite, while all about the sea-anemones would dot every crack and hole, like round knobs of dark red jelly, where the water had left them high and dry, spread out like painted daisy flowers, where they were down in the pool.

No matter how cautiously we approached, something would take fright. Perhaps it would be a little shore crab that betrayed itself by scuffling down amongst the corallite or sea-weed, perhaps a little fierce-looking bristly fish, which shot under a ledge of the rock all amongst the limpets, acorn barnacles, or the thousands of yellow and brown and striped snaily fellows that crawled about in company with the periwinkles and pelican's feet.

Those were not what we wanted, but the prawns, which would be balancing themselves in the clear water, and then dart backwards with a flip of their tails right under the sea-weed or ledges.

I remember that day so well because it was marked by a big black stone, of which more by and by; and everything connected with our doings that morning seems to stand out quite clear, as the Welsh coast did under the clear blue sky.

We reached our first pool, and Bob Chowne shouted, "There's one!" while I was certain I saw two more. Then Bob and Bigley softly thrust in their nets, and it became my duty to poke about among the sea-weed and under the ledges where we had seen the prawns take shelter.

At about the second stirring of the overhanging weed on one side, out darted a big prawn. "I've got him!" cried Bob, and we all shouted "Hooray!" but when the net was raised, dripping pearls in the bright sunshine, the prawn was not there, for, preferring open water to nets, it had shot between the two and taken shelter under the ledges on the other side.

But there he was, for there was no way out to where the sea sucked and gurgled among the rocks three or four yards away, and we continued our hunt, not to dislodge this one, but three more, one being larger, and two much less.

For a good ten minutes they dodged us about, hiding in all manner of out-of-the-way corners, till all at once it seemed as if they must have gone. The water, that had been brilliantly clear when we started, was now thick with sand and broken sea-weed, and Bigley lifted out his net to clear it and to let the water settle a little before we started again.

"I don't know where they've got to," said Bob sourly. "Prawns are not half so easy to catch as they used to be."

"Hallo! Why, here's one," cried Bigley just then, as he found one of the biggest kicking about among the sea-weed that he had turned out of the bottom of his net.

This first capture was soon transferred to the basket, and the fact of one being taken so encouraged Bob that he set to with renewed energy, and the result was that we caught two more out of that pool, the biggest of all--at least Bob Chowne said it was--having to be left behind in the inaccessible crack where he had hidden himself.

Another pool and another was visited with excellent luck, for the tide was down lower than usual, and prawns seemed plentiful, there having been plenty of time for them to collect since they were last disturbed, for we boys were the only hunters on that deserted shore. So on we went, one poking about among the weeds till the prawn darted backwards into the nets held ready, and we had soon been able to muster over a dozen.

Then, all at once, we came upon quite a little pool right under a large mass of rock with a smaller and deeper pool joined to it by a narrow channel between two blocks of stone, and farther from the sea.

We caught sight of several prawns darting under cover as we came in sight, but, to our disgust, found that we could not attack them, the pool being so sheltered by overhanging rocks that the only possible way seemed to be by undressing and going into what was quite a grotto.

Travellers tell us how the natives of some far-off islands dive into the sea and do battle with sharks; but no boy ever lived who could dive into a pool and catch a prawn in his native element--at least I never knew one who could, and we were going to give it up after a few frantic thrusts with our nets, when an idea occurred to me.

"Here, I know!" I cried. "Let's bale out the little low hole, and that will empty the big one."

"To be sure," cried Bob. "Go it! But we've got nothing to bale with."

"Big's shoes," I cried as I caught sight of them hanging from his neck, tied together by their thongs, and each with a knitted worsted stocking plugging up the toes.

Big made not the slightest objection, but laughed as he pulled out his stockings and thrust them into his breeches' pockets.

The next minute he and I were scooping out the water at a tremendous rate, making quite a stream flow down from the upper part under the rock, and it soon became evident that in less than an hour both would be dry.

We worked away till I was tired and gave place to Bob Chowne, Bigley all the while working away and sending out great shoefuls over the lower edge of the rocks.

I sat down to rest, and as I watched where the water fell I suddenly made a dart at something thrown out, but it only proved to be a prickly weaver.

Five minutes later, though, Big threw out a prawn which had come down with the current, and this encouraged him to work harder, but Bob began to be tired, and he showed it by sending a shoeful of water at me, making me shout, "Leave off!"

Then he sent one flying over Bigley, who only laughed and worked on for a few moments till Bob was not looking, and then sent a shower back.

Bob jumped out of the hole like a shot and turned upon Bigley angrily:

"You just see if I'm going to stop down there and be smothered with water. Yah! Get out, you ugly old smuggler."

As he spoke he flung Bigley's great shoe with a good aim down by his feet, and splashed him completely all over.

Some lads would have jumped out and pursued Bob in a fury, but Bigley only brushed the water out of his eyes and began to laugh as if he rather enjoyed it.

"Come on, Sep," he cried to me; "you and I will finish, and if he comes near we'll give him such a dowsing."

I went to his help, and we worked so well that no less than six more prawns came down to our pool, and were scooped out; and at last the upper one was completely emptied, but it was nearly an hour's work.

"Now then, I'll go in," said Bob, and he crept in through the rift between the two pools, and under the overhanging rocks.

"Oh!" he cried as soon as he was in, "what a jolly place! And--ugh! Here's a conger."

"No!" we cried together.

"Yes there is, long as my arm, and he's squirming about. Here, give me a landing-net. I'll poke him, and make him come out to you chaps."

We handed him the net, and he began banging and thrusting at the rock for some time without result.

"Well, isn't he coming?" I cried.

"No; he gets up in a corner here so that I can only feel his slippery tail with the stick, and he won't come out."

"Take hold of it with your hand and pull," said Bigley.

"Oh yes, I daresay. Just as if I didn't know there's only one place where you can hold on."

"Where's that?" said Bigley.

"With your hand in his mouth. You come and put yours in."

Of course Bigley did not respond to the invitation, and the banging and rattling went on for a few minutes longer.

"Why don't you chaps stand away from the light? I can't see," cried Bob. "That's better: now I can tell. Look out, boys, look out! Here he comes."

"Catch him in the net, Bob," I shouted.

"Yah! Don't talk stuff," was the answer. "Look out! Is he coming your way?"

"No!" we both shouted, and then "Yes!" for there was a quick movement in the channel between the two pools, and the next instant a large eel was splashing and writhing in the water and sea-weed of the pool which we had baled.

"Here he is, Bob!" we shouted; and, as we finished the struggle which resulted in our getting the eel into one of the nets, and then out on the open rocks, and in a position to make it cease its writhings, Bob Chowne backed out to look on and help us gloat over our capture, which proved to be a plump young conger of a yard long.

"Well, that's something," said Bob. "Now I'm going after the prawns. No, you go, Sep," he said. "I don't see why I should do all the work."

I went into the dripping grotto nothing loth, and by careful search among the wet weed I found first one prawn and then another, till I had thrown out six, the work being tolerably easy, for the little horny-coated fellows made known their presence by their movements, flipping their tails sharply and making a noise that betrayed their hiding-places.

The grotto-like place, shut in by some rocks overshadowed by others, was so gloomy that it was hard to make out everything, but twice over I noted a bit of a rift on my left all fringed with sea-weed and slippery with anemones, where it was not rough with limpets and barnacles.

"Was it down here, Bob, down on the left, that you found the conger?"

"No," he shouted, "on the right."

I looked round, and found the crack where the conger must have been, and then came a summons from without.

"Well, can't you find any more?"

"No," I said; "but there's a big hole here. Perhaps there's another conger."

"Put your hand in and pull him out, then," cried Bob with a sneer.

I did not answer, for I felt now very plainly how much easier it is to give orders than to obey them. But a little consideration taught me that there was nothing to fear, for if there was a conger in the hole the chances were that he would have thrust his head into the farthest corner, and that it would be his tail that I should touch.

"Now, then," cried Bob. "Ar'n't you going to find any more prawns?"

"I don't know," I said, as I carefully introduced my hand and arm, going down on one knee so as to get closer, and so by degrees hand, arm, and shoulder had nearly disappeared, as I touched the far end of the cleft.

"Nothing," I said to myself, as I felt about with my cheek touching the wet slippery sea-weed. Then I uttered a loud "Ugh!" and started away.

"What's the matter?" cried my companions.

"I don't know," I cried. "Here's something alive in a hole here."

"Well, why don't you pull it out?" cried Bob.

"I--I don't know," I said. But I'm afraid I did know. The feeling, though, that my companions were laughing at me was too much, and with a sudden burst of energy I thrust my hand right into the rift again, felt down cautiously till my hand touched, not the slimy serpentine form of an eel, but the hard back of a shell-fish, and as I touched it, there was a curious scuffling down beneath my fingers that told me it was a crab.

"Hooray, boys!" I shouted. "Crab!"

"Have him out, Sep! Mind he don't nip you!" they shouted; and after a minute's hesitation I plunged my hand into the hole again, knowing that I must feel for a safe place to get hold of the claw-armed creature, so that I should not have to suffer a severe pinch or two, from its nippers.

I was pretty quick, but the crab was quicker, and as I caught it the left claw seized tight hold, but only of my sleeve.

My natural instinct was to start back, and this had the effect of dragging the crab out of its lurking place, and I ran to the opening holding out my arm, just as the crab dropped with quite a crash into the little channel, and then began running sidewise back towards me and the darkness.

I stopped my prisoner with my foot, and he scuffled back and into the little empty pool, where he tried hard to hide himself under the sea-weed fronds, but Bigley worked him out, and by clever management avoided the pincers, which were held up threateningly, and popped him into one of the baskets.

"It's my turn now," said Bigley. "Think there's anything else?"

"I don't know," I said. "Try."

"What's the good of saying that?" said Bob laughing. "He couldn't get in."

"Oh, couldn't I?" cried Bigley. "You'll see. Mind that eel don't slip out. Now you'll see."

He rolled up his sleeves nearly to the shoulder, and picking out the widest spot began to crawl in, dragging himself slowly through, and at last drawing his legs in after him, and standing in a bent position right under the rock.

"There!" he cried triumphantly. "Who can't get in? Now then, where are these cracks?"

"Right up at the other end," I cried; and he groped on into the narrower part, Bob and I looking into the slippery grotto-like place enjoying his slow cumbersome manner, and paying no heed to the fact that the tide had turned, and that already a little water had run into the little pool where we had baled.

"Found anything, Big!" we shouted, though he was only a couple of yards away.

"N-no. Nothing here. I'm going to try this other hole. Oh, I say, isn't it deep?"

"Mind! Mind!" shrieked Bob, and Bigley scuffled back.

"What--what is it?" he panted.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha!" roared Bob. "Did he bite you?"

"What a shame!" grumbled Bigley in his gruff voice. "I didn't try to scare you. I don't care though. You won't frighten me again."

He crept back, and we could hear him grunting and panting.

"I say, it is deep," he said. "I've got my arm in right to the shoulder and there's nothing here. Stop a minute; here's a crack round this corner where I can get my hand. It's quite a big opening with water in it, and slippery things in the rock, and--Ugh!--oh!--ah!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A TERRIBLE DANGER.

Bigley dragged his arm out of the crack and came scuffling back to us, and as soon as he reached the opening we could see that he looked quite pale.

"Why, Big, what is it?" I cried eagerly.

"Don't frighten him. He has seen the ghost of an old cock shark," cried Bob Chowne grinning.

"Oh, I don't know," he panted. "Something soft, and cold, and alive."

"Why, it was a jelly-fish," we said together. "Did it sting?"

"No. You wouldn't find jelly-fishes in a hole like that. It felt like a tremendously great polly-squiggle with a big parrot's beak, and my hand nearly went in."

"Get out!" said Bob, "there are no big ones."

"How do you know?" retorted Bigley. "That felt just like a large one."

"Did he take hold of you with his suckers?" I said.

"No, I didn't give him time."

"If it had been a polly-squiggle it would have got you fast directly with its suckers," I said oracularly.

"Never mind what it was, old Big. Go in and fetch it out again."

"No; one of you two go, I don't like," said Bigley. "You can't see where you're putting your hand; and suppose he bites it off?"

"Why, then, you could have a wooden peg," said Bob sneeringly. "Here, come out, my poor little man, and let me go in. I'll soon fetch out my gentleman, you see if I don't. Here, come out."

Bob Chowne never meant to go in. His face said as much as he looked round at me; but his words had the effect he intended, for Bigley grunted and went back as far as the narrow crack in the grotto would allow, and boldly thrust in his hand.

"Mind, Big," I said seriously, "be ready to snatch away your fist."

He did not answer, but we heard him draw his breath hard; then there came a splashing noise, and directly after our school-fellow backed towards us.

"I've got him," he shouted, his voice sounding hollow and strange.

"What is it?"

"I dunno," he cried, and then, wrenching himself round, he dropped something soft down upon the rock.

"Why, it's a crab!" I cried.

"A soft one," shouted Bob. "He can't nip now."

As he spoke he poked the curious-looking object with his finger, making it wince and threaten with its claws, but they were perfectly soft, and it was evident that the creature had only just crept out of its old shell, and was hiding away in the dark hole waiting for the new armour to form.

"Well, he is a rum one," said Bob, growing bolder. "Why, he's just like a counterfeit is when you pull his tail out of a whelk shell."

"Not quite so soft," I said, gaining confidence and handling the crab in turn, for it was not so fleshy feeling as the back part of hermit crabs, which we called counterfeits in our part of the world.

"What shall we do with if?" said Big. "It isn't good to eat now."

"Kill the nasty, bloaty thing, and throw it in for bait for the fishes."

"No, no," I said, "put it down and let it creep back. It will grow into a fine crab, and we know its hole and can come and get it some day when the tide's down."

"That's it," said Big; and taking the pulpy, soft crab, which pinched at his hands without the slightest effect, he crept back and thrust it into its hiding-place once again.

We two were looking in after him when--_thud_!--_plash_!--came a wave, breaking just below us and drenching us from head to foot, while a quantity of the water rushed into our baled-out hole, filled it, and began running swiftly up the channel, so swiftly that we saw at a glance it would only take another or two to fill the upper pool.

"Here, come out, Big. Quick!" I cried. "Tide's coming in. Now, Bob, get the baskets and nets."

I ran down a few yards, and was only just in time to snatch mine up before a wave washed right over the spot where they had lain. For the tide was coming in rapidly, and, as I have shown, we were on a part of the shore that was only bare about once a month.

"All right," cried Bob. "I've got mine and old Big's."

"Where are Big's shoes?" I said.

"Down by the pool. Come on, Big, old chap," shouted Bob.

"I'll get them," I said, and I ran to the bottom pool and had to fish them out of the bottom where they had been left.

As I took them out I felt ready to drop them, but I did not, for I flung them and my net and basket as far up the shore as I could, and held out my hands to Bigley, who was looking out at me from the grotto-like place.

"Why don't you come out?" I cried. "Can't you see the tide's coming in?"

"Yes--yes," he said in a curious hollow voice, "I can see, but I can't move. I'm stuck fast. Help!"

I felt a chill of horror, and in those moments saw the tide rising higher and higher till it had filled the little cavern and drowned my poor school-fellow, we his companions being unable to drag him out.

Those thoughts only occupied moments, but they made an impression that I have never forgotten, and I don't think I ever shall have the memories weakened.

I saw it all plainly enough. Poor fellow! He had been startled by the incoming tide and tried to creep out, but not in about the only part that would permit of his passing, but in the first that offered, and he had become fixed, and, as in a few words he explained, the harder he tried to free himself the tighter prisoner he became.

"Here, Bob! Bob!" I shouted in such a tone of anguish that he came running from the back of the rocks to where I was standing knee-deep in water.

"Get out!" he shouted as soon as he saw me. "You can come. Look here, if you play me a trick like--"

"No, no, don't go," I shouted. "Bob: he's fast!"

Bob dashed down to me now as quickly as the rough place would let him. He had thrown down his load at my first appeal for help, and as he came splashing through the water he looked horribly pale.

He saw the position in an instant, and stood by me too much horrified to act; and, as he told me afterwards, his thoughts were just like mine. How long would it take to go to the Gap and bring Bigley's father with a boat?

"Can't you get any farther?" I cried at last as a fresh wave came rushing in, and nearly swept me off my legs.

"No; I'm fast; I can't move," said Bigley in a hoarse whisper. "Run for help."

"No, no," shouted Bob. "Don't go, Sep. We must get him out."

The curious dreamy feeling of helplessness had left us both now; and, taking hold of our companion's hands, we set our feet against the rock and dragged with all our might, while poor Bigley struggled and strained, but all in vain. He had by his unaided efforts got to a certain distance and then stopped. Our united power did not move him an inch.

We stopped at last panting, and all looking horror-stricken in each other's faces. It was a calm enough day, but down there among the rocks the tide rushed in with such fierce power and so rapidly that we were being deluged by every wave which broke, while at intervals the greater waves threatened to be soon big enough to sweep us away.

"Don't stop looking," cried Bob Chowne frantically. "Sep, Sep! Pull, pull!"

He dashed at poor Bigley again, and we dragged with all our might; but the efforts were vain, and again we stared at each other in despair.

"Try again!" I cried breathlessly, and with a horrible feeling coming over me as I once more seized my school-fellow's hand.

Bob followed my example, and again we dragged and hauled at the poor fellow, whose great eyes stared at us in a wildly appealing way that seemed to chill me.

It was of no use. We could not stir him, and we stopped again panting, as a bigger wave struck us and drove us against the rocks, and ran gurgling up into the grotto where poor Bigley was fixed.

"Shall I run for help?" groaned Bob, who was crying and sobbing all the time.

I shook my head, for I knew it was of no use, and then dashed at poor Bigley again, to catch hold of his hand, not to drag at it, but to hold it in both mine.

I don't know why I did it, unless it was from the natural feeling that it might encourage and comfort him to have someone gripping his hand in such a terrible time.

I tried not to think of the horror as the water splashed and hissed about us, and gurgled horribly in the grotto; but something seemed to be singing in my ears, and I heard again the shrieking of a poor boy who was drowned years before by getting one leg fixed in a rift among the rocks when mussel gathering and overtaken by the tide.

He, poor fellow, was drowned, for they could not drag him out, and it seemed to me that our poor schoolmate must lose his life in the same way unless we could devise some means to rescue him.

We looked round despairingly, and for a moment I tried to hope that the tide might not, upon this occasion, rise so high; but a glance at the top of the rocks showed them to be covered with limpets and weed, indicating that they were immersed at every tide, as I well enough knew, and I could not suppress a groan.

"Sep," said poor Bigley, drawing me closer to him, with his great strong hand, and gazing at me with a terribly pathetic look in his eyes. "Sep, tell poor father not to take on about it. We couldn't help it. An accident. Tell him it was an accident, will you?"

I could not answer him, and I turned to Bob Chowne, who was standing with his fingers now thrust into his ears.

"Bob!" I cried. "Bob, let's try again!"

He sprang to poor Bigley's other hand, and we dragged and tugged with slow steady strain and sharp snatch, but without any effect; and every now and then, as we pulled, the waves came right up, and drove us against the rock.

"It's of no use, boys," said Bigley at last. "I'm fast."

"Help!" yelled Bob Chowne with all his might; but in that great solitude his voice had no more effect than the wail of a sea-bird. There was not a soul in sight either on cliff path or the shore. Out to sea there were sails enough, small craft and goodly ships going and coming from Bristol and Cardiff; but no signals on our part were likely to be seen. And besides, if they had been understood, it would have been an hour's row to shore from the nearest, and before a quarter of that time had elapsed the rocks where we stood would be under water.

"Big, Big!" I cried piteously in my despair and wonder to see him now so pale and calm; "what shall we do?"

"Nothing," he said in a low whisper. "Only be quiet now; I'm going to say my prayers."

I dropped down on my knees by him and hid my face, and how long I knelt there I don't know; but it was till I was lifted by the tide and driven heavily against the rocks.

"It's of no use," said Bigley then, after a tremendous struggle. "I can't get out. You must go."

"For help?" I said.

"No; run both of you, or you'll be drowned."

As he spoke a wave came in, broke and deluged us, and I don't know what my words would have been if Bob Chowne had not wailed out:

"Nobody sha'n't say I didn't stick to my mate. I sha'n't go. I won't go. Sep Duncan may if he likes, but I shall stop."

He caught frantically at poor Bigley's collar as he spoke, set his teeth, and then closed his eyes.

"No, no! Run, Bob; run, Sep!" panted Bigley, as if he was being suffocated; "the water will be over us directly, and you must go and tell poor father where I am."

"I sha'n't go and leave you two," I said sullenly; and I also caught hold of him, set my teeth, and swung round as a bigger wave than ever came rolling smoothly in, and regularly seemed to leap at us as it broke upon the rocks, and after deluging us, rushed up, and came down again in a rain of spray.

What followed seems wild and confused, for the sea was rising fast, and we were deluged by every wave, while the greater ones that came every now and then threatened to snatch us away; but everything was as if it occurred in a dream.

Somebody said to me once that Bob Chowne and I behaved in a very heroic manner, standing by our school-fellow as we did; but I don't think there was much heroism in it. We couldn't go and leave him to drown. I wanted to run away, and Bob Chowne afterwards said that he longed to go, but, as he put it, poor fellow, it seemed so mean to leave him to drown all alone.

At all events we stayed, and, as I say, what followed appears to me now to have been dreamy and strange. The water came splashing over us always, but every now and then a great solid wave drove us together, lifting us to strike against the rocks, and then letting us fall heavily, but only to leap in again, and snatch us up as they beat, and swirled, and hissed, and dragged at us like wild creatures, and if we had not held on so tightly to poor Bigley, we must have been washed outwards from the shore.

As I say I don't know how long this lasted, only that we were getting more and more helpless and confused, when a tremendous wave came rolling in and struck full in the grotto-like opening where poor Bigley was wedged. I felt as if my arms had been suddenly wrenched from their sockets, and then I was being carried out by the retiring wave.

It was so natural to us sea-side boys that I involuntarily struck out, tossing my head so as to get the water out of my eyes, and then I saw that Bob Chowne was swimming too, a short distance from me.

My next glance was in the direction of the little cave now some ten yards away, about whose mouth the water was rising and falling; and as I looked, there was nothing but water; then Bigley seemed to crawl out quickly into the next rising wave, and then he too seemed to be swimming towards the shore.

It appeared to be so impossible that I could not believe it, or do anything but swim in amongst the rocks where the long slimy sea-tangle was washing to and fro; but there was no fancy about it, as I found, for Bigley was standing knee-deep in the water, and ready to give us each a hand as we staggered in.

"Why, Big," I exclaimed, "how did you manage to get out?"

He could not answer me, nor yet Bob Chowne, when he repeated the question, but walked slowly and heavily up towards the cliff, and sat down upon a dry stone, to rest his head upon his hands, while we respected his silence.

It was some time before he could speak, and when he did, it was in a dull half-stupefied way, to explain what was simple enough, namely, that when that last big wave came, it struck him violently and buried him deep, the blow, and the natural effort to escape from the water, making him shrink backwards into the hole, a task he achieved without much difficulty; while, when, as the wave retired, he made another effort to pass out, he involuntarily tried where the rocks were a little farther apart, or placed his body in a different position, for he glided out over the slimy rock with ease.

His explanations were, however, like our questions, confused; and we had only one thought now, which was to get home and obtain dry clothes, so we parted as we reached the nearest combe, Bigley going one way bare-footed, and we the other, Bob Chowne afterwards going home in a suit of mine.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

WE MAKE ANOTHER SLIP.

I'm afraid that we thought very little about Bigley's escape from a horrible death, for by nine o'clock the next morning he was over at the Bay, and while we were talking outside, Bob Chowne came trotting up, holding on to the mane of his father's pony, for the doctor had ridden over to see my father.

Half an hour later we were down on the beach to look for our baskets and nets which had been covered by the tide, and which we were too much exhausted to hunt for after our escape.

For a long time we had no success, for, until the tide ran lower, we were not quite sure of the spot; but we hung about hour after hour till the cluster of rocks were uncovered, and as soon as the water was low enough we were down at the place, and, but for the labour necessary to bale out the lower pool, we should, I am sure, have crawled in again to try how it was Bigley was held.

It did not take much examination to show that, however, for it was plain enough now to see how one part of the opening was a good deal narrower than the other; and here it was that Bigley had become fast, never once striving in his horror to get back, but always forward like an animal in a trap.

As I stood there looking, the whole scene appeared to come back again, and I shuddered as I seemed to see my school-fellow's agonised face gazing appealingly in ours, and for the moment the bright sunny day looked overcast.

"Come away," I said nervously; "let's look for the nets."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Bob, who had quite recovered his spirits and took up his usual manner; "look at old Sep! He's frightened, and thinks it's his turn to be stuck in the rock."

"Never mind; let's look for the nets," said Bigley, who seemed to be more in sympathy with me, and we set to work, finding one before long, buried all but a scrap of the net in the beach sand and shingle.

This encouraged us, and we hunted with more vigour, finding another wedged in between some blocks of rock, and soon after we discovered something that we had certainly expected would have been swept out to sea, namely, one of the baskets.

It was the one which contained the crab, and it had been driven into a rock pool surrounded by masses of stone, which had held it as the tide retired.

To our great satisfaction the crab was still inside alive and uninjured; but we found no more relics of our expedition. The other baskets were gone with the eel and prawns, and the third net was wanting. I must except, though, one of Bigley's shoes, which had been cast up four hundred yards from the rock pool, and lay at high-water mark in a heap of sea-weed, battered wreck-wood and shells.

I am not going to enumerate all our adventures during those holidays; but I must refer to one or two more before passing on for a time to the more serious matters in connection with the silver mine in the Gap, where, while we were enjoying ourselves on the shore or up one of the narrow glens baling out holes to catch the trout, business matters were progressing fast. Our mishap was soon forgotten, and we determined to have another prawning trip, for, as Bob Chowne said, there was no risk over it, if we didn't go and stick ourselves between two stones ready for the tide to come in and drown us. "But it was an accident," said Bigley gravely. "Oh, no, it wasn't," cried Bob; "an accident's where you can't help it--where a boat upsets, or a horse falls down, or a wheel falls off, or you slip over the edge of the cliff."

"Well, that was an accident too," I said; "wasn't he nearly drowned?"

"No," cried Bob, "not nearly; and how could it be an accident when he crept into the hole, and turned round and stuck fast when he tried to get out?"

It was of no use to argue with Bob that morning, as we three ran down to the shore after finding that old Uggleston's lugger was at sea, crushing the weed under our feet, and enjoying the curious salt smell that ascended to our nostrils. We had another net, and a big basket, borrowed of our Sam. It was not so handy as our old ones, for two of us had to carry it; but as I said it would hold plenty, and we could lay a bit of old net over the prawns to keep them from flicking themselves out.

"I don't believe we shall catch any to-day," said Bob, who was in one of his hedgehog fits, as Bigley used to call them. But he was wrong, for after walking about a mile along the shore, so as to go right away from the cottages, the first pool we stopped at gave us three fine fat fellows.

In another we were more successful, and as we roamed: farther and farther away the better became our sport.

This time we went on past the Gap, and under the tremendous cliffs that kept the sun from shining down upon the shore in winter. Then on and on with our numbers always increasing, for we passed very few pools that did not contain one prawn at least.

"I tell you what," said Bob, as we stopped to rest, net in hand; "we'll go to old Big's this afternoon, and get Mother Bonnet to boil the prawns, and then have a thorough good feast. You'll find us some bread and butter, won't you, Big?"

"Of course," he replied; "but we haven't got them home yet."

"No," said Bob, "we haven't got them home; but you're not going to get stuck in a hole this time, are you?"

Bigley shook his head, and the remarks were forgotten, as we discovered, just washed in by the tide, a good-sized cuttlefish, that was quite dead, however, having been killed I suppose by being bruised against the rocks, so we were not favoured with a shower of ink.

A little farther on we came to a bare smooth patch of dark sand, over which the sea ran gently, sweeping before it a rim of foam which sparkled and displayed iridescent colours like a soap-bubble. Here we found our first jelly-fish, a beautifully clear disc of transparency about the size of a penny bun, and from which, when we plunged it in the first rock pool, hung down quite a lovely fringe of the most delicate hues.

Perhaps it was too nearly dead from being washed ashore, for it did not sting, as some of these creatures do slightly, when encountered while bathing.

We thought the jelly-fish curious, but it was not good to eat, so it was left in the little rock pool with a few tiny shrimps, to get well or die, and we went on kicking over the little shells, getting our feet wet, and finding more prawn-haunted pools, as we made for one big rock which lay close to the water's edge, a quarter of a mile farther on, where it stood up in the midst of a clump of smaller ones, the beach around being tolerably level for some distance.

"That's where old Binnacle always goes when he wants to find a lobster," said Bigley; "and I shouldn't wonder if we get one, for he hasn't been there lately."

"How do you know?" I said.

"Because he hasn't sold one, nor given us one, nor had one himself."

"There, hark at him!" cried Bob. "How can you tell?"

"Easy enough."

"But how?"

"Haven't lobsters got shells?"

"Yes."

"And aren't they red?"

"Why, of course they are."

"Well, don't they always throw the shells out on the heap by the pig-sty?" cried Bigley. "And there hasn't been one there since I came home. Old Bill has been too busy making a new net to go lobstering."

"I say, what a day for a bathe!" cried Bob suddenly, as we approached the big rock which formed out here a point, from which a series of smaller rocks ran right to sea, for the heads of some were level with the surface, and others only appeared at times.

"Why, you couldn't bathe here," said Big; "you ought to know that."

"Why not?" cried Bob.

"Because the tide hits against those rocks, and then runs right out to sea like the river runs down the Gap after a storm."

"Oh, I don't believe all these old stories," cried Bob contemptuously; "and suppose it did run out, couldn't I swim out of the stream and come ashore?"

"No."

"Oh, couldn't I? Precious soon let you see."

"Hi! Look there," cried Bigley, "there's father's boat."

"Where?" I said.

"Out yonder. He has been with Binnacle Bill to Swincombe, and that's them coming back."

"Why, you can't see anything but a bit of sail," cried Bob scoffingly, as he shaded his eyes and looked far-off into the west.

"No, but I know the shape of it," cried Bigley. "There isn't another boat hereabouts with a sail like that."

"I don't believe you know it," cried Bob. "It's a Frenchman, or a Dutchman, or a Welsh boat."

"Well, you'll see," said Bigley decisively, and the matter dropped, for we were close up to the big rock now, a mass that stood about a dozen feet above the beach, and to our great delight there were several little pools about, all of which seemed to be well occupied by the toothsome delicacies we sought.

The baskets were set down and we were soon hard at work catching prawn after prawn; but, though we peered into every crack, and routed about as far as we could reach, there was no sign of a lobster large or small.

"Never mind," said Bob sourly, "they're rather out of season if you do catch them now. I don't mind."

For another half hour or so, with the tide coming whispering and lapping in, we went on prawning, getting a dozen fine ones.

Then Bob insisted upon bathing, and it was only by an effort we stopped him from going into the water at so dangerous a spot.

It was Big who took off his attention at last, by telling him that he could not scale the big rock and get on the top.

"Tchah!" cried Bob sneeringly; "why, I could almost hop on it."

We laughed at him, and he began to peer about for one of the surrounding pieces to form a step to help him part of the way, but all were too distant, the great stone lying quite isolated. There was one spot, though, where the big stone was split, as if some gigantic wedge had been driven in to open it a little way, and here, as it was encrusted with limpets, there seemed to be a good prospect for us to climb up the roughened sides.

As it proved it was like many tasks in life, it looked more difficult than it really was, and by the exercise of a little agility and some mutual help we contrived to get to the top, where there was a large depression like a caldron, scooped out by the action of the sea upon a heavy boulder lying therein, and which looked as if, when the waves beat, it must be driven round and round and to and fro.

We all sat down with our legs in the hole, following Bigley's example as he set himself to watch the coming of his father's boat, which was growing plainer now every minute, and trying, by spreading all the sail she could, to reach the Gap.

"I wonder how long she'll be?" said Bob, sitting there with his chin upon his hands.

"About an hour," replied Bigley.

"What! Coming that little way? Why, she's close here."

"It isn't close here, and the boat's a good six miles away, I know," replied Bigley. "Distances are deceiving by the sea-side."

"Hark at the doctor," cried Bob; "he's going to give us a lecture. I say, this isn't school."

It was very pleasant seated there on that smooth, warm platform of rock in the glowing sunshine, and with the soft sea-breeze fanning our cheeks. There was plenty of room, and before long we were all lying down in various attitudes. Bob turned himself into a spread-eagle by lying upon his back, and tilting his cap over his nose as he announced that he was going to sleep.

We both laughed and did not believe him, as we each took up the position most agreeable to him, Bigley stretching himself upon his breast, folding his arms and placing his chin upon them, so as to gaze at his father's boat with undivided attention.

As for me, I lay on my side to stare at the great wall of cliff that ran along the land, and curved over and over into great hills and mounds.

It was very beautiful to watch the many tints in the distance, and the bright colours of the broken rock. The upper parts were of a velvety green; then in the hollows where the oak-trees flourished there were endless tints, against which the soft grey of the gulls, as they floated along, seemed to stand out bright and clear.

We three lads had been walking and climbing and exerting ourselves for hours now, and the strange restful sensation of stretching one's self on that warm, smooth mass of rock was delicious.

To make it more agreeable, the soft wind fanned our faces, and the sea seemed to be whispering in a curious lulling way that was delightful.

I remember raising myself a little to look at Bob Chowne in his lazy attitude. Then I stared at Bigley, who had doubled back his long legs, as he watched the boat, whose sails seemed to be coming nearer now, and then I sank back in my former attitude, to gaze at the cliffs and the soft blue sky flecked with silvery gauzy clouds.

Then one of the big grey gulls fixed my attention, and I lay staring at it hard, and watching its movements, as I wondered why it was that it should keep flying to and fro, for nothing apparently, turning itself so easily by a movement of the tail, and curving round and round without an effort.

That gull completely fascinated me. Sometimes it floated softly so near that I could plainly see its clear ringed eye and the colour of its beak, the soft white of its head and under parts, the delicate grey of its back, and the black tips of its wings, which formed soft bends that sustained the great bird with the slightest exertion. For now and then it beat the air a little, then the wings remained motionless a minute at a time, and the secret of flying seemed to me to be to float about in that clear transparent air, just as a fish did in the sea.

It was very wonderful to watch it, feeling so dreamy and restful the while. The gull seemed to have fixed its eyes on me, and to know that I was noting all its graceful evolutions, and I felt that it was flying and floating and gliding to and fro, and round and round, now up, now down, on purpose to show off its powers to me, for it never occurred to me that the bird was waiting till my eyes were closed to make a pounce down upon the big basket and help itself to the prawns.

No, it all seemed done for my special benefit, and lulled by the lapping of the sea, and with the fanning motion of the gull's wings having a curiously drowsy effect, I lay there watching--watching, till I seemed to be able to float with the gull, and to be gliding onward and onward through space, up and down, up and down, in a soft billowy, heaving movement, with the blue sky above me, the green cliff-side draped with oak and ivy below, and all about me, and pervading me and sustaining me as the sea did when I swam, there was the soft pure air.

Was I a gull or myself? I did not know, only that I seemed to be floating deliciously on with wide-spread invisible wings, and that there was no such thing as the earth and shore, over which I laboriously plodded, for me.

It was one soft dreamy ecstasy, such as comes to the weary sleeping in the summer breeze out in the open air. Now and then I seemed to hear the wild softened harshness of the gull's cry, then all was still again, and I was floating on and on, wishing nothing, wanting nothing, only to go on, when all at once a huge roc-like bird seemed to sweep over between me and the sunshine, to grasp me as Sindbad was seized, and raise me up.

But this roc spoke and cried harshly:

"Quick! Wake up! You have been to sleep."

"Sleep?" I said, rousing myself. "Sleep?"

"Yes; we've all been to sleep, and--Here, Bob! Wake up! Wake up!"

He shook Bob Chowne, who was so sound that it was with difficulty he could be made to sit up, and in that little interval I realised why it was that Bigley looked so scared.

It was plain enough: tired out with our prawning, we had been thoughtless enough to let our weariness get the better of us, and while we had slept the enemy had not only approached, but surrounded us and cut us off from the shore. In fact, as we stared about us, a wave struck the rock and sent its soft spray right up to where we were standing.

"Here, what's the matter?" cried Bob. "I say, what is it? Oh, I say, where are the prawns?"

Prawns? They and the baskets were far away now, while the nets might be anywhere. Between us and the shore the water for a good hundred yards was six feet deep at least, and there was a swim of a hundred and fifty before we could begin to wade, while, if we did not start at once, there would be a swim of nearly half a mile, for the points of the little bay where we were would soon be covered, the rocks were perpendicular, and to stay in the bay was to be drowned.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

A PERILOUS SWIM.

"I say, what shall we do?" cried Bob.

"We must take off our clothes and swim for it," said Bigley.

"No, no," I cried, for the idea was appalling. "Let's stay here."

"What, and be swept off?" said Bob. "No; Bigley's right. We must swim for it. No, I see! There's your father's lugger, Big. Let them come and take us off."

"They durstn't come in on account of the rocks," said Bigley slowly.

"Then, let them send the boat. Let's hail them."

"Yes, they might send the boat," said Bigley thoughtfully, "and they would if we could make them understand."

"Shout," cried Bob.

"What's the use when they're nearly two miles away."

"'Tisn't so far, is it?" I said in an awe-stricken whisper.

"Almost," he said. "The wind's against them, and they're beating up very slowly, and keeping off so as to run straight in when they get past the point. You see they don't want to go in at the Gap till it's high-water and the pebble bar is covered."

"But they must hear us," cried Bob, "and send a boat to fetch us off. I don't know that I could swim so far as the shore, and we should have to undress and lose all our clothes. Here, ahoy! Boat--oh! Ahoy!"

The sound died away in the vast space, but there was no movement aboard of the lugger, and after each had hailed in turn, and we had all shouted together, we looked at each other in despair.

"Oh," cried Bob, "what a set of stupids we are! Only just now we went and got into trouble, and lost our nets and baskets, and now we've been and done it again. Here, Big, it's all your fault, what are we going to do?"

Bigley looked to sea, and he looked to shore, and then down at the water, that kept lapping round the rock and rising and falling. The small blocks all about us had long been covered, and at its most quiescent times the sea was now within some three feet of the top, while as the waves swayed and heaved, they ran up at times nearly to where we stood.

The peril did not seem very great, because we did not quite realise our position; but stood disputing as to which would be the better proceeding--to try and swim ashore, or to wait till we could attract the notice of those on board the boat.

Several attempts were made to do the latter, for the stripping to swim with the loss of our clothes was not a course to be thought upon with equanimity; and though we shouted and waved handkerchiefs, the lugger pursued its slow way, and it was quite plain that we were not seen.

Meanwhile the water was steadily rising up the sides of our little island rock, and our position was beginning to wear a more serious aspect.

"We shall have to swim ashore, boys," said Bigley, speaking in a tone which seemed to indicate that he would rather do anything else.

He looked towards the cliff as he spoke, and being so much taller than we, of course he had a much better view.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, with a look of horror, "the tide is round both points, and we shall have to swim right along ever so far before we can land."

"No, no," cried Bob, "let's swim straight in."

"I tell you," cried Bigley, "if we do, we shall be drowned."

"What nonsense!" cried Bob. "Why, we'd climb up the rocks."

"There is not a place where you could climb," said Bigley gloomily. "I know every yard all along here, and there isn't a single spot where you could get up the cliff."

"It's too far to swim," I said gloomily. "I know I can't go so far as that. Could you, Bob?"

He shook his head.

"Oh, yes, you could," cried Bigley excitedly. "It would be swimming with the stream, you know, and it would carry us along--I mean the tide would, and you've only got to think you could do it, and you would."

Bob Chowne shook his head, and I began to feel chilled and oppressed by the task we had before us.

"No, I couldn't swim so far," cried Bob suddenly. "It would take a strong man who could keep on for hours to do that."

"I tell you that you could do it," cried Bigley, who seemed to be quite passionate now. "Don't talk like that, Bob, or you'll frighten Sep Duncan out of trying."

"I'm not going to try," I said gloomily. "It would be no use. I could swim to the shore but not round the point."

"What's the good of talking like that?" cried Bigley. "You both can swim it, and you must."

"Why, I don't believe you could, Big," cried Bob in a whimpering tone.

"I do," said the great fellow doggedly, "and I'm going to try, and so are you two fellows."

"That we are not," we cried together.

"Yes, you are, for it's our only chance, unless they see us from the boat. You'll have to try, for the water will be up and over here before long, and what will you do then?"

"Drown, I s'pose," said Bob.

"Nonsense!" cried Bigley, who astonished us by the eager business way he had put on. "Who's going to stand still and drown, when he can swim to a safe place? Here, let's try and get 'em to see us aboard the lugger," he cried. "All together! Let's wave our caps and handkerchiefs."

We did all wave our caps and handkerchiefs, together and separately, but the boat went slowly on, as if there was no one in danger, and we turned and looked at each other in despair.

"They must be asleep," said Bob angrily. "Oh, it's too bad."

"No," said Bigley sadly. "They can't be asleep, because there's someone steering, and someone else attending to the sails when they go about. It's only because they cannot see us. The rocks and cliffs hide us from them."

"Why, we can see them," said Bob bitterly.

"Yes, because they are against the sky," I said. "We are against the cliff. Oh, look at that!"

My schoolmates wanted no telling, for they were looking aghast at the way in which the water had washed up, and lapped over the edge of the rock upon which we stood. It fell directly, but it had risen high enough to show that in a few minutes it would sweep right to where we were, and in a few more completely cover the stone.

At this Bigley began to wave his jacket frantically, but the boat still glided slowly on with its sail lit up by the sunshine, and the sea glittering as far as we could see.

"It's of no use; we must swim," cried Bigley; but we neither of us stirred, though he began resolutely to take off his big shoes. We saw what he was doing, but our eyes were strained towards the boat, which was much nearer now, making a long reach in towards the land, and it seemed so strange that those on board should be calmly sitting there, while we were in such peril, looking longingly for a sign that we were seen.

And still the water slowly rose, threatening several times, and then making a bold leap which carried it right over the stone, though it barely wetted our feet.

As it came over, Bigley stooped down quickly and caught up his shoes and clothes to keep them dry, and it seemed very ridiculous to me that he should trouble himself about that, when in a few more minutes they must be afloat.

Another wave and another came over us, and though I kept on waving my handkerchief at times, there seemed to be no hope of help from the lugger. So in a fit of despair, after a glance towards the shore, I began to follow Bigley's example and undress, feeling that it was forced upon me, and that I must make an effort and swim for my life.

Bob Chowne stood with his forehead all wrinkled up watching me for a few minutes, and then he began to undress slowly; but a wave came and rose right up to our knees as it swept in, telling us plainly enough that before many minutes had passed we should be unable to stand there, and in frantic haste we tore off our garments, and followed Bigley's lead in tying them together in a bundle, in the faint hope of being able to take them in our teeth and carry them ashore.

We were ready none too soon, for the tide rose rapidly, and it was evident that the time had come for our plunge.

"I'll go first, boys, and you follow," cried Bigley. "Now, don't hurry, and try and keep together. I won't swim fast. Ready?"

There was no answer.

"Are you ready, I say? I want to give the word, and for us all to take the water together."

Still neither of us answered; and we stood there, bundles in hand, unwilling to quit the firm rock on which we stood knee-deep, for the treacherous sea.

"I say, boys! Are you ready!" cried Bigley again.

Still there was no answer, and the reluctance to stir would have continued longer, but an unexpected termination was put to our indecision by a larger wave sweeping over us, and making Bob Chowne slip and stagger.

He tried hard to recover himself, and we to catch him, but the wet rock was bad for the feet, or he placed his foot upon a piece of sea-weed. At all events over he went with a splash and disappeared.

We two followed, bundles and all, and as Bob rose we were one on each side, and started swimming level with the shore so as to round the point between us and the western side of the Gap.

Driven to it as we were, Bob Chowne and I forgot our dread and began to swim steadily and well; but we had not been in the water five minutes before I found that we had undertaken to do that which was impossible, and that we had quite forgotten all about this being a dangerous spot for bathing.

I think we all discovered it about the same moment, but Bigley was the first to speak.

"Be cool, boys, as the doctor says," he called out to us. "This is no use. We're not going with the tide, but fighting against it."

"But the tide's coming in," I said.

"Yes, underneath," cried Bigley; "but the top part of the water's running out like a mill-race, and we must go with it now. Follow me."

There was no help for it. The tide carried us along into a tremendous current, caused by the meeting of two waters at the point formed by the ridge of rocks which ran down into the sea, and to my horror, as I swam steadily on, still holding to my bundle, I found that we were in a line with the cliff about which I had watched the gull flying, but that it was getting farther and farther away.

It was all plain enough. We were well in the fierce current that ran off the point, and being carried straight out to sea.

My first idea was to shout this to my companions; but I felt that if I did I should frighten them, and I knew well enough that as soon as anyone grew frightened when he was swimming the best half of his power had gone.

It was a great thing to recollect, and I held my tongue. It was hard work, and something seemed to keep prompting me to shout the bad news, but somehow I mastered it, and instead of swimming faster made myself take my strokes more slowly, so as to save my breath.

Bigley told me afterwards, and so did Bob Chowne, that they felt just the same, and would not shout for fear of frightening me, swimming steadily on, though where we did not know.

"I say, how warm the water is!" cried Bigley; and we others said it was. Then I thought of something to say.

We had each tied our clothes up as tightly as we could in our pocket-handkerchiefs, and so it was a long time before they were regularly saturated and heavy.

"I say," I cried, "my bundle's just like a cork, and holds me up beautiful. How are yours?"

Bob Chowne panted out that his was better, and to prove hew good and buoyant his was Bigley thrust it before him, and swam after it, giving it pushes as he went.

All this took up our attention for a little while from the horror of our position, for a horrible position it was indeed. It was a glorious sunny day, and sea and sky were beautiful, but the fierce current that set off from the point was sweeping us rapidly away, and it was only a question of how long we could keep on swimming--a quarter of an hour, half an hour, an hour--and then first one and then another must sink, unless in our efforts to save the first weak one we all went down together, and the glittering sea flowed over our heads with only a few bubbles of air to show where we had been.

We must have been swimming twenty minutes when Bigley uttered a shout, and looking up, Bob and I for the first time caught sight of a little dinghy coming towards us, and far beyond it the lugger lying with her sails flapping in the breeze.

The boat was a long way off, but the man in it had evidently seen us, and was coming down to our help, and a thrill of exultation ran through me, as I struck out more vigorously to reach the haven of safety.

The minute before we were all swimming steadily and well, but the sight of help coming seemed to have completely unnerved us, and in place of taking slow long regular strokes, and steady inspirations, with the sides of our heads well down in the water, we all quickened our strokes and strained our heads above the surface, while, as if moved by the same thought, we all together shouted "Boat!"

"Ahoy!" came back from what seemed a terrible distance, and the feeling of fear I had begun to experience increased more and more.

A couple of minutes earlier I had not thought about the distance I could swim, but had kept on swimming. Now I could think of nothing else but was it possible that I could keep on long enough for the boat to reach me; and, instead of steadily trying to decrease the distance, and so help the boatman, I began to make very bad progress indeed.

"Hooray!" shouted Bigley just then. "Keep up, boys, and don't lose your bundles. It's father, and he'll soon pick us up."

Bundles?--bundles? Where was my bundle?

I dared not turn my head to look, but it was not by me, and I must have let it float away just when most excited by the coming of the boat, but I could say nothing then.

"Steady!" shouted Bigley again, checking his own speed, for he had been getting ahead of us, and he waited till we were abreast of him, both swimming too heavily and fast.

"Don't do that," he cried. "Go steady. Go--"

He said no more, poor fellow, for the curious dread that unnerves people in the water, and robs them of the power and judgment that are their saving, seemed to have attacked him, and he began to swim in a more and more laboured fashion.