A Terrible Coward, by George Manville Fenn. ________________________________________________________________________ The book is set in a small Cornish fishing village. There is adangerous swimming feat which is used as a rite of passage among theboys and young men. One young man, the hero of this short book, has notyet dared to do this feat. Another young man, annoyed by the hero'sapparent lack of courage, does something very nasty and unkind whichvery nearly drowns our hero. However, shortly afterwards, events so pan out that the tables areturned, and it is seen that our hero is not the coward, while his enemyis. It's about a two-hour read, but is well-written and in the vintageManville Fenn style in which "how does he get out of this?" eventsfollow closely on one another. ________________________________________________________________________ A TERRIBLE COWARD, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. CHAPTER ONE. THE DIVER'S ROCK. Boom! with a noise like thunder. _Plash_! directly after; but the sounds those two words express, multiplied and squared if you like, till the effect upon the senses is, on the first hearing, one of dread mingled with awe at the mightiness ofthe power of the sea. For this is not "how the waters come down at Lodore, " but how they comein at Carn Du, a little fishing town on the Cornish coast. There's a black mass of rock standing out like a buttress just to thewest of the little harbour, running right into the sea, and going downstraight like a wall into the deep clear water at its foot, as if to sayto the waves, "Thus far may you come, and no farther. " For hundredsupon hundreds of years the winds and tides have combined to ridthemselves of this obstacle to their progress, the winds urging thewaves that come rolling in from the vast Atlantic, gathering force asthey increase in speed, like one rushing at a leap; and at last leapthey do, upon the great black mass of shale, tons upon tons in weight, seeming as if they would sweep it clear away, and rush on in mad ruin totumble the fishing luggers together and shatter them like eggs as theylie softly rubbing together in the harbour. But no; it is only another of the countless millions of failures on thepart of those Atlantic billows. They leap and fall with a mighty boomupon that rock, but only to break up with a hissing plash into a mass offoam, defeated, churned up with froth that runs hissing back, ready togive way to another wave advancing to the charge. They have worn the rock smooth, so that it glistens like glass in themorning sun, for, as if aware of the folly of urging on its regiments ofwell-mounted cavalry to come dashing in upon the wild white-manedsea-horses, or the more sober lines of heavy infantry in uniforms ofgreen and blue, the sea has for countless ages bombarded Carn Du withstone-shot in the shape of great boulders. These have ground andpolished off every scrap of seaweed, every barnacle, limpet, andsea-anemone, leaving the rock all smooth and bare, while the boulderslie piled to the east in a heap, where the waves that try to take therock in flank leap amongst them, and roll them over higher and higher, to come rumbling down as if they were tiny pebbles instead of roundedmasses of granite and spar-veined stone a quarter, half, and ahundredweight each. It was an awful place in a storm--Carn Du. It was there that the greatAustrian full-rigged ship came on, during one black and raging night;when one minute from the harbour, and off the cliff, the fishermen intheir oilskins could see the lights of a vessel--the next minute, nothing. There were the remains of a few timbers, though, in the morning--torn, twisted, gnawed, as it were, into fibres and splintering rags. That wasall. It was an awful place in a storm, where the spray, broken up intofeathery froth by the battle on the rocks, came flying over the town, and then away landward, like a fine misty rain; but it was a grand placein a calm. It has been said that there was always deep water, even atlow tide, at the foot of the Carn, and here for generations had been thetraining place of the swimmers of Carn Du, who were famous for theirprowess all round the coast. It was too much for the boys, but the performance of the big dive waslooked upon as the passing of a lad from boyhood into the manly stage, upon which he entered through the Shangles Gate, and then swam back, coming, as it were, of age amidst the shouts of his companions to swimashore and land upon the big boulders, where the boys bathed and learnedto swim in the calm weather, gazing the while in admiration at theirolder companions. For there was something very stirring in the act, and a stranger to theplace would hold his breath in dread as he saw Mark Penelly, who was thefinest swimmer at the port of Carn Du, climb up the side of the greatblack rock upon some fine summer evening, then go round along the narrowshelf of shaley stone, till he stood alone there forty feet above thesea, his white figure as he rested against the black rock, every musclestanding out from his well-knit frame, and his arms crossed, lookinglike some antique statue in its niche. There were plenty of young men who could perform the feat, but MarkPenelly was acknowledged to be the master. Dotted about the swelling surface there would be the heads of plenty ofswimmers--men and lads--some going smoothly along, mounting the rollersas they came in, and descending softly into the hollows; others againswimming to meet each wave, then rising a little, and with a plunge likea duck or one of the great bronze-black shags, or cormorants, that satupon the rock-shelves, diving right through the mass of water, to comeout fairly on the other side. Some would swim out to the little buoys, rest by them for a time, andswim back. Others would make for one of the cinnamon-sailed luggerslying at anchor, to go round and back, or would get into one of theboats; while some, more venturesome, or really more confident in theirpowers over the water, would go boldly out, perhaps a mile, to meet somelugger coming in from the fishing-ground, sure of being taken aboard andriding back abreast of the boulders where they had left their clothes. To be a good swimmer was everything at Carn Du. They looked upon it asa business--as part of their education--for no boy or man was countedfit to go out in a boat who could not leap overboard and swim alongside, or, during a capsize, keep himself afloat, and help to turn the boat andbale her out. But from the meanest to the best swimmer there, every one paused towatch Mark Penelly standing statue-like up against the black rock, waiting till a great ninth wave came majestically rolling in, sweepingover the outer rocks--the Shangles--and then with a boom leaping at CarnDu, running up it, as it were, in a mighty column of water, some twentyfeet even on a calm day. Now was the time, calculated by practised eyes to the moment. As the wave struck, Mark could be seen to grow suddenly less statuesque. His arms would drop to his side, and then as it rushed up towards wherehe stood, like some mighty sea-monster seeking to make him its prey, Mark's hands joined above his head, he bent forward slightly, and thenwith one tremendous leap seemed to leave the rocky ledge, and plungedown head foremost into the wave. The effect was electric, but its daring seemed to savour of madness. There one moment stood the statuesque figure, white as a cameo cut inthe black rock, the next moment there was a gleam of something flashingthrough the air, and passing into the deep blue wave, which, as if bythe contact of the figure, broke into silvery foam, rushing back like avast cascade towards the Shangles. Where all before was smooth heaving water all was now rushing foam, asthe broken wave raced back, as if to pass between two narrow jaggedpieces of rock rising up like a gateway some fifty yards away before thenext wave came in. The breath of the person who saw it for the first time was held as helooked in vain for the brave diver, or wondered whether the act he hadseen was not some mad effort to destroy life. There was the foamingwater, there the black rocks, that were swept over by the roaring wave, but now showing plainly amidst a sheet of white surf, with beyond them acomparatively smooth surface, through which a current seems to run. But there was no diver to be seen, nothing but the racing, hissing foam. Yes: there he was--that was his head, rising out of the foam thirty orforty yards away, and being carried to inevitable destruction againstthose terrible jagged rocks. No man could swim against the furious, racing torrent which was nowpassing between them. No one could get out of such a current when oncein. It was horrible to look at, for the helpless swimmer seemed as ifhe would be dashed against the crags and then float, stunned, wounded, and helpless, out to sea. That seemed to be Mark Penelly's fate; but no--as he neared the gate inthe Shangles he could be seen to turn over upon his back, keeping hishead well out of the water, paddling with his hands, and feet foremost, showing from time to time amongst the foam, literally shooting like acanoe right between the rocks, to float directly after in smooth water, and calmly swim round towards the shore. The feat had been seen hundreds of times; every swimmer who had attainedmanhood could do it; and at times it was hard work to keep back theventuresome boys. But no matter when it was done there was always acheer for the brave young fellow who took the leap, and who was now seento alter his mind, and make for a fishing lugger a quarter of a mileaway--one which was just coming in from the fishing-ground miles away. "Huh, Harry Paul, " said one of a group of dark, weather-tannedfishermen, to a fair-haired, clear-skinned young fellow of two or threeand twenty; who had just thrown his straw-hat upon the rocks, showinghis crisp, short, yellowish hair, and broad, white forehead. "Going tohave a swim?" "Yes, " said the young man quietly, as he proceeded to divest himself ofhis neckerchief and let loose his thick white throat; "nice night forit. " "Where are you going, lad?" said another, for somehow they took a greatinterest in his proceedings. "Oh, I thought of swimming out to James's boat and back, or else comingback in her. She seems to have plenty of fish. " "Ay, lad, plenty, " said another; "they've been signalling that they're'most full. But when are you going to take the jump, lad, eh?" "I don't know, " said Harry quietly, as he went on preparing for hisbathe; "perhaps never. " "I wonder at you, Master Harry, " said another, a grey-headed oldfisherman. "Here's you, son of the biggest owner here in Carn Du, ayoung chap as can swim like a seal, and yet never had the pluck to takethe big leap. " "Yes, " said the first speaker, "a dive as there's dozens of boys o'fifteen and sixteen ready to do if they'd let 'em. " "Ay, " said the grey-haired old fellow, "that they would. Why, I done itwhen I was fourteen and a half. " "Mark. Penelly says as you're the biggest coward as ever stepped, " saidanother maliciously. "Oh! never you mind what Mark Penelly says, Master Harry, " said thegrey-haired man. "He's jealous; that's about what he is. He's 'fearedyou'll go and do the dive better than him. And it's my opinion, seeingwhat a swimmer you are, as you would beat him all to fits. " "So I think, " said another, who had not yet spoken; and he winked at hiscompanions as he thrust his hands a little farther down into hiscapacious pockets. "Go on, and do it to-night, Master Harry, " said the old fellow. "Don'tyou be bet. The tide's just right for it, and if I was you I'd justshow Mark Penelly as he knows nothing about it. " The young man went on calmly divesting himself of his outer clothingwhile this talk went on, and though there was a slight flush on hischeeks he did not speak a word. "He'll do it, " said the man with his hands in his pockets. "He'll doit; you see if he don't. Mas'r Harry's made up his mind. He's justmade up his mind, he have, and he's going to do it. " "I'll lay a ounce o' baccy he does it better than Mark Penelly. I wishhe was here to see him do it. " "Ay, to be sure, " said the old grey-haired man. "He's going to do it--now aren't you, Mas'r Harry? I feel kinder quite glad of it, lad, for Itaught you to swim. " "To be sure you did, Tom Genna, " said the young man, smiling, "and Ihope I haven't disgraced my master. " "Not you, lad; there is not a finer swimmer nowhere, " said the old manenthusiastically; "and I'm glad you've made up your mind at last to takethe dive. " "I've not made up my mind, " said the young man coolly. "Not made up your mind!" cried several. "No, " replied the bather. "Why, you said just now as you would do it!" cried the man with hishands in his pockets. "Ay, so he did, " was chorused. "Not I, " said Harry quietly; "and if you will all clear off, and let mehave my swim in peace, I shall be much obliged. " "Why, you are a coward, then, " said the man with his hands in hispockets, and to show his disgust he began to sprinkle the boulders aboutwith tobacco-juice. "I suppose I am, " said Harry Paul, smiling. "I can't help it. Isuppose it is my nature. " "Bah!" growled the grey-haired man, who, as one of the oldest fishermen, was looked up to as an authority. "You aren't a coward, Master Harry;it's only 'cause you want to make a plucky effort, don't you? Just youmake up your mind to do it, and you'd do it like a shot. " "I daresay I could, " replied the young man; "but why should I?" "Why should you!" sneered the man with his hands in his pockets; "why, 'cause every one does. " "Because everyone goes and risks his life just for the sake ofgratifying his vanity, " replied Harry Paul, "I don't see why I should goand do the same. " "Ah, now you're beginning to talk fine, " growled the old fisherman, "anda-shoving your book-larning at us. Look here, young 'un; a lad as can'tswim ain't--'cordin' to my ideas--hardly worth the snuff of a candle. " "I don't go so far as you do, Tom, " said the young man, smiling; "but Ido hold that every young fellow should be able to swim well, and so Ilearned. " "Yes, but you can't do the dive, " said the man with his hands in hispockets mockingly. "Oh, he's going to do it, " said the old fisherman. "The water's justright, Master Harry. You go. Take my advice: you go. Just wait tillthe wave's coming well up, then fall into her, and out you come, and thecurrent'll carry you out through the Shangles. " "And what the better shall I be if I do?" said the young man warmly. "What the better, my lad!" said the old fellow, looking aghast. "Why, you'll ha' made quite a man o' yourself. " "But I shall have done no good whatever. " "Oh, yes, you would; oh, yes, you would, " said the party, sagely shakingtheir heads and looking at one another. "I don't see it, " said Harry Paul. "If it was to do any one good, or tobe of any benefit, perhaps I might try it; but I cannot see thecommon-sense of risking my life just because you people have made it acustom to jump off Carn Du. " As he spoke he ran down over the boulders, and plunged off a rock intothe clear sea, his white figure being traceable against the olive brownsea-wrack waving far below, as he swam for some distance below thesurface, and then rose, shook the water from his eyes, and struck outfor the lugger lying becalmed in the offing. The party of fishermen on shore stood growling together, and makingunpleasant remarks about Harry Paul, whom they declared to be a terriblecoward--all but old Tom Genna, who angrily took his part. "He's not a bad 'un at heart, and I believe he's no coward, " growled theold fellow. "Then why don't he show as he ar'n't?" said the man with his hands inhis pockets, places they never seemed to leave. "Ah, that's what no one can't say!" growled old Tom, and sooner thanhear his favourite swimming pupil condemned, he walked away, mutteringthat, "he'd give a half-crown silver piece any day to see Mas'r Harry dothat theer dive better than Mark Penelly. " Meanwhile the latter had swum right out to the fishing lugger, where hewas taken on board, and it being one of his father's boats, he was soonfurnished with a blue jersey and a pair of rough flannel trousers, forhe did not care about swimming back. Then seating himself on the side, he began talking and chatting to the men, who were shaking mackerel outof their dark-brown nets, where they hung caught by the gills, whichacted like the barbs to their arrow-like flight through the sea againstthe drift-net, and prevented their return. They were in no hurry to get in, for there was no means of sending theirfish off till morning, hence they took matters coolly enough. "Did you do the dive to-night, Master Mark?" said the master of theboat. "Yes, to be sure, " said Mark conceitedly. "Bah! it's mere child'splay. " "And yet Mas'r Harry Paul never does it, " said another, in the sing-songtone peculiar to the district. "He! a miserable coward!" cried Penelly, contemptuously. "He hasn't thespirit of a fly. Such a fellow ought to be hounded out of the place. Why, I could pick out a dozen boys of twelve who would do it. " "Yes, " said the master of the lugger maliciously, "but he's a beautifulswimmer. " "Tchah! I'd swim twice as far, " said Penelly. "He's a wretched coward, and I hate him. " "What! because he can swim better than you, sir?" said the master. "I tell you I'm the better swimmer, " said Penelly sharply. "Then it must be because he thrashed you for behaving ill to poor oldTom Genna?" "He thrash me!" cried Penelly contemptuously. "I should like to see himdo it. " "Here's your chance, then, " said the master maliciously. "He's swimmingstraight for the boat. " Mark Penelly's face grew a shade more sallow, but he said nothing, onlyknelt down by a pile of loose net, and watched the young man, whom helooked upon as his rival, till Harry, swimming gracefully and well, cameright up and answered the hail of the fishermen with a cheery shout. "Come aboard, Mas'r Harry; we're going to have the sweeps out soon, andwe'll take you in. " "No, thank you, " was the reply. "I am going round you, and then back. " Mark Penelly had gone over to the other side of the lugger while theconversation was going on, and he did not face the man he looked upon ashis rival; while Harry, unnoticed by the busy fishers as he swam round, went on, touching the sides of the lugger as he lightly swam, but onlythe next moment to find himself entangled in a quantity of the thinmackerel net, which seemed somehow to descend upon him like a cloud, andbefore he could realise the fact he was under water, hopelessly fetteredby the net, and feeling that if he could not extricate himself directlyhe should be a dead man. CHAPTER TWO. ZEKLE MAKES HAY. At first sight nothing seems more frail than a herring or mackerel net, one of those slight pieces of mesh-work that, in a continuation oflengths perhaps half-a-mile long, is let down into the sea to float withthe tide, ready for the shoals of fish that dart against it as it formsa filmy wall across their way. The wonder always is that it does notbreak with even a few pounds of fish therein, but it rarely does, forco-operation is power, and it is in the multiplicity of crossing threadsthat the strength consists. Harry Paul, as he struggled in the water, was like a fly in the web of aspider, for every effort seemed only to increase the tangle. He couldnot break that which yielded on every side, but with fresh lengthscoming over the lugger's side to tangle him the more. Even if he hadhad an open sharp knife in his hand he could hardly have cut himselffree, and in the horror of those brief moments he found that hisstruggles were sending him deeper and deeper, and that unconsciously hehad wound himself still farther in the net, till his arms and legs werepinioned in the cold, slimy bonds, which clung to and wrapped round himmore and more. A plunge deep down into the sea is confusing at the best of times. Thewater thunders in the ears, and a feeling of helplessness and awesometimes comes over the best of swimmers. In this case, then, tangledand helpless as he was, Harry Paul could only think for a few moments ofthe time when he swam into the sea-cave at Pen Point at high tide, andfelt the long strands of the bladder wrack curl and twist round hislimbs like the tentacles of some sea-monster; and he realised once morethe chilling sense of helpless horror that seemed to numb his faculties. He made an effort again and again, but each time it was weaker, and atlast, with the noise of many waters in his ears, and a bewildering rushof memories through his brain, all seemed to be growing very dark aroundhim, and then he knew no more. On board the lugger the fishermen were busily running the net from onecompartment of the vessel into the other, still shaking the fish out asthey went on, for a sudden squall at the fishing-ground had compelledthem to haul in their nets hastily and run for home. The slimy net grewinto a large brown heap on one side, and the little hill ofbrilliantly-tinted mackerel bigger on the other, and in the eveninglight it seemed as if the wondrous colours with which the water shone inripples far and near had been caught and dyed upon the sides of thefish. Mark Penelly came over from the other side of the lugger, where heseemed to have been busy for a moment or two, while the men were bendingover their work, and seated himself upon the low bulwark close to themaster. "Has he got round?" said the latter, looking up for a moment. "Whom do you mean?" said Penelly, who was rather pale. "Young Mas'r Harry. Didn't you see him?" "See him?--no. I thought he had swum back. " "Went round the other side, " said the master quietly. "Here, you Zekle, don't throw a fish like that on to the heap; the head's half off. " The man advanced, picked the torn mackerel off the heap, where he hadinadvertently thrown it, and the work went on, till as the master raisedhis eyes to where Penelly sat, he saw how pale and strange he looked. "Why, lad, " he exclaimed, "you've been too long in the water. You lookquite cold and blue. I'd lay hold of one of the sweeps if I were you. It will warm you to help pullin'. Here, hallo!" he shouted, "who's letall that net go trailing overboard? Here's a mess! we shall have to runit all through our hands again. " Mark Penelly's eyes seemed starting out of his head as, with aconvulsive gasp, he seized hold of the net, along with the master andanother, and they began to haul in fathom after fathom, which came upslowly, and as if a great deal of it were sunk. "Why, there's half the net overboard!" cried the master angrily. "Howdid you manage it? What have you been about?" "There can't be much over, " said the man who was helping; "she was allright just now. There's a fish in it, and a big one. " "Don't talk such foolery, Zekle Wynn, " said the master. "I tell 'eehalf the net's overboard. " "How can she be overboard when she's nigh all in the boat?" said the mansavagely. "Zekle's right, " cried Mark Penelly, who was hauling away excitedly;"there's a big fish in it. Look! you can see the gleam of it downbelow. " "Well, don't pull a man's nets in like that, Mas'r Mark!" said theother, now growing interested and hauling steadily in; "nets cost moneyto breed. " [Note. Cornish. Making nets is termed "breeding. "] "Why, it's a porpoise, and a good big 'un too! Steady, lads; steady! She'sswum into the net that trailed overboard. Steady, or we shall lose her!Here, hold on, lads, and I'll get down into the boat and--haul away!"he roared excitedly, as he had made out clearly what was entangled inthe net. "Quick, lads! quick! It's a man! It's--my word if it ar'n'tyoung Harry Paul!" The net was drawn in steadily over the roller at the lugger's side, tillPenelly and the master could lean down and grasp the arms of thedrowning or drowned man, whom they dragged on board, and then, notwithout some difficulty, freed from the net that clung to his limbs. Hehad struggled so hard that he had wound it round and round him, and sotight was it in places that, without hesitation, the master pulled outhis great jack-knife and cut the meshes in three or four places. "You can get new nets, " he said hoarsely, "but you couldn't get a newHarry Paul. There's some spirit down in the cabin, Zekle. Quick, lad, and bring the blanket out of the locker, and my oilskin. Poor dear lad!he must have got tangled as he was swimming round. I'll break thatZekle's head with a boat-hook for this job; see if I don't. " The threatened man, however, came just then with the blanket andspirits, when everything else was forgotten in the effort to restore theapparently drowned man. Mark Penelly worked with all his might, andafter wrapping Paul in the blanket and covering him with coats andoilskins, some of the spirit was trickled between his clenched teeth, and the men then rubbed his feet and hands. "Get out the sweeps, lads. There's no wind, and we must get him ashore. Poor dear lad! If he's a drowned man, Zekle Wynn, you've murderedhim!" "I tell 'ee I didn't let no net trail overboard, " cried the man angrily, as he seized a long oar and began to tug at it, dropping it into thewater every time with a heavy splash. "Don't stand talking back at me!" roared the master, seizing another oarand dragging at it with all his might, "pull, will 'ee? pull!" "I am a-pulling, ar'n't I?" shouted back the other, as the man and lad, who formed the rest of the crew, each got an oar overboard and began topull. "Yes, you're a-pulling, but not half pulling!" roared the master, as ifhis man were half a mile away instead of close beside him. Plenty more angry recrimination went on as all tugged at the long oars, and the lugger began to move slowly through the water towards the littleharbour; but if Harry Paul's life had depended upon the services of thedoctor at Carn Du he would never have seen the sun rise on the morrow'sdawn. But as it happened, the warmth of the wrapping, the influence ofthe spirit that had been poured liberally down his throat, and thechafing, combined with his naturally strong animal power to revive himfrom the state of insensibility into which he had fallen, and longbefore they reached the granite pier of the little harbour his eyes hadopened, and he was staring in a peculiarly puzzled way at Mark Penelly, who still knelt beside him in the double character of medical man andnurse. "Eh! lad, and that's right, " cried the master in a sing-song tone; "why, we thought we was too late. How came 'ee to get twisted up in the netslike that?" Harry Paul did not answer, but lay back on the heap of what had sonearly proved to be his winding-sheet, trying to think out how it wasthat he had come to be lying on the deck of that fishing lugger, withthose men whom he well knew apparently taking so much interest in hisstate. For all recollection of his swim and the conversation that had precededit had gone. All he could make out was that Mark Penelly, who was neverfriendly to him, was now kneeling by his side looking in a curious wayinto his eyes. By degrees, though, the cloud that had been over his understandingseemed to float away, and as they were nearing the harbour he began torecall the urgings he had received to leap from Carn Du, which now stoodup black and forbidding on his left; the swim out to the lugger andround; and then--"Well, how do you feel now, lad?" said the master. "Better, " said Harry, forcing a smile. "How came ye to swim into the net? Didn't 'ee see it?" "No, " said Harry, thoughtfully; and as he spoke Mark Penelly watched himvery attentively. "I hardly know how it was, only that it seemed tocome down on me all at once. " "Just what I said, " cried the master angrily; "and if I was you I'd haveit out of Zekle Wynn here, somehow--leaves a heap of net so as it fallsoverboard. " "Tell 'ee I didn't, " roared Zekle, shouting out his words as if he washailing a ship. "Nets went over o' theirselves. " Mark Penelly seemed to breathe more freely, as he now rose and placedthe spirits on the deck. "I'd take a taste o' that myself, Mas'r Mark, if I was you, " said themaster. "You don't look quite so blue as you did. But you seemed quitescared over this job. " Mark declined, however, saying that he was quite well; and soon after, in spite of the opposition he met with from the master, who said it wasfoolishness, Harry Paul plunged overboard, and swam to thebathing-place, where he dressed; and, saving that he was suffering froma peculiar sensation of stiffness, he was not much the worse. Mark Penelly watched him as he swam ashore easily and well, and thebitter feelings of dislike which had for the time being lain in abeyancebefore the scene of peril of which he had been witness, began once moreto grow stronger, completely changing the appearance of his face as now, to get rid of the thoughts that troubled him, he took hold of one of thesweeps and began to row. "Nice lad, Harry Paul, " said the master to him then. "Yes, very, " said Penelly dryly. "Good swimmer, too. " "Yes, " replied Penelly. "Narrow 'scape for him, though, poor lad. Lucky thing we saw that thenets was overboard in time. If I was him I'd just give Zekle Wynn therethe very biggest hiding he ever had in his life, that I would. He ain'tcontent with doing a thing wrong, but he ain't man enough to own it. Ihaven't patience with such ways!" Penelly did not speak, and Zekle remained silent, but he was evidentlymoved to indignation at what had been said, for he kept lifting his bigoar and chopping it down in the water as if he were trying to take offthe master's head. The buoy outside the harbour was reached, however, directly after, andas soon as the oars were laid in all hands were busy for the next twohours shaking out and landing mackerel ready for basketing and sendingacross country to catch the early morning train. It was soon known all over Carn Du that Harry Paul had had a very narrowescape from drowning, and knot after knot of fishermen discussed thematter and joined in blaming Zekle Wynn for letting the net trailoverboard. "Still, he must have been a foolish sort of a creature to go and swimright into a tangle o' net, " said the man who always had his hands inhis pockets. "Not he, " said old Tom Genna; "Harry Paul's too clever a swimmer to goand do such a thing as that. " "Here's Zekle Wynn, " cried another eagerly, for such an event causedplenty of excitement, and was seized upon with avidity. "Hi! Zekle! itwas you as left the net trailing, warn't it?" "Skipper says so, " replied Zekle grimly, as he took out some tobacco andmade himself a pill to chew. "You're a pretty sort of a chap, " said another; "why, you'll be runningthe lugger on the rocks next. " "Shouldn't wonder, " said Zekle. "Well, " said Tom Genna, "if I was Harry Paul, I'd knock you down withthe first thing I could get hold of, capstan-bar or boat-hook, oranything. " "Ah, that's what our old man said!" replied Zekle coolly. "You ought to be ashamed o' yourself, Zekle Wynn, that you ought, and Iwouldn't sail in the same boat with you. " "No, it wouldn't be safe, " said Zekle dryly. "Yes, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, " said someone else angrily. "I don't like Harry Paul, for he's a regular coward--chap as hasn't hadcourage to take the big dive as yet; but that's no reason he should bedrowned by a fellow who can't manage a drift-net no better than to leavehalf on it trailing overboard. " "Well, if you come to that, " said Tom Genna, who was an authority in theplace, "I think it was the skipper's dooty to ha' seen that his nets wasall in the boat, and not leave it to a fellow like Zekle Wynn here, whodon't seem to have so much brains as a boy. " "Quite right!" said Zekle, "quite right!" "Yes: what I say's quite right, " said Tom Genna; "but as for you, youngfellow, you're quite wrong, and it's my belief you're about half out ofyour mind. " Zekle Wynn stared vacantly round at the speakers, and then, putting hishand to his head, he walked thoughtfully away. "He is going wrong, " said the fishing sage, nodding his head; and thisformed a fresh subject for discussion, especially as one of the knot ofidlers recollected that a second cousin of Zekle Wynn's was an idiot. But Zekle Wynn was not going out of his mind, but, as soon as it wasdark, straight up to the house where Mark Penelly lived with his father, and as soon as he had watched Penelly, senior, out of the house, he wentboldly up and asked to see Mark. The latter came at the end of a few minutes, looking curiously at hisvisitor. "Sit down, Zekle, " he said. "Brought a message?" "No!" said Zekle. "Brought up some fish, then?" "No!" was the very gruff reply. "Did you want to see my father?" "No!" "Then what do you want?" exclaimed Penelly sharply. "You!" "What is it, then, my good fellow?" said Penelly, speaking now in ahaughty tone, for the man's way was rude and offensive. "I want to know something, " said Zekle. "Then why don't you go to somebody else?" "'Cause you know best what I want to know. " "Speak out, then, quickly, for I am busy, " said Penelly, who, while inan ordinary way ready enough to chat and laugh with the fishermen, wasat times, on the strength of his father's position as a boat-owner, disposed to treat them as several degrees lower in social standing. "Busy, eh?" said Zekle scornfully. "I dessay you are; but you mus'n'tbe too busy to talk to me. " "What do you mean?" said Penelly hotly. "How dare you speak to me inthat insolent way?" "Insolent, eh?" said the man. "Ah! you call that insolent, do you?" hecontinued, raising his voice. "What would you call it, then, if I wasto speak out a little plainer?" "Look here, Zekle Wynn, " said Penelly; "there are times when I come downto the harbour, and into the boats, and go fishing with the men; butrecollect, please, whom you are talking to. " "Oh, I know who I'm talking to, " said Zekle; "I ain't blind. " "If you speak to me again like that I'll kick you out of the house. Howdare you come in here and address me in this way?" "Where's your father?" said Zekle; "suppose I talk to him. " "Go and talk to him, then; and mind how you speak, sir, or you'll getdifferent treatment to that you receive from me. " "All right, then!" said Zekle mockingly. "I shall go to him and tellhim that, while I was busy shaking out fish in our boat to-night, youngHarry Paul come swimming up, and our mas'r says, `Come aboard, ' he says;but Mas'r Harry Paul he says, `No, ' he says, `I shall swim round, ' hesays, and he swims round our boat. " "Well, he knows that, " said Penelly, looking at him strangely. "And then I'm going to tell him, " continued Zekle, "that as soon as evera certain person who was aboard our boat sees young Mas'r Harry coming, he goes and sits on the other side. " "Yes, I did, " said Penelly sharply. "Oh, you did, did you? You owns to that?" "Of course, " replied Penelly scornfully. "What then?" "What then? Ah! I'll soon tell you what then, " said Zekle. "You upswith an armful of net, and just as young Harry Paul comes round underyou, you drops it on top of his head. " "Hush!" Mark Penelly sprang at the speaker and clapped his hand over his lips. "I thought, " said Zekle, freeing himself, "that it was only for a bit ofmischief; I'd forgot all about young Mas'r Harry; but now I know as youdid it to drown--" "Hush!" cried Penelly again hoarsely, and his face was like ashes. "Ididn't; indeed I did not, Zekle. " "Why, I see you with my own eyes, " said the man. "Yes, I did drop the net over, but it was only out of mischief. I didnot think it would do more than duck him well. I never thought it wouldbe so dangerous. I meant it in fun. " "But it _was_ dangerous, " said Zekle with a grin; "and as people knowyou hate Mas'r Harry, they'll say you meant to mur--" "Hush!" cried Penelly again; and he clapped his hand once more upon thespeaker's lips. "Oh, that won't stop me from speaking!" said Zekle. "I'm going to tellall I know, and it's my belief as they'll have you up, and bring it in'tempt to kill young Mas'r Harry. " "But you won't speak about it, Zekle, " said Penelly imploringly. "But I just will, " said Zekle, "and I come to ask you what they'll do toyou for it. I don't want to tell, but you see it's 'bout my dooty. " "I'll give you anything to be silent. " "But I must tell, " said Zekle, shaking his head; "it's my dooty to, andI wouldn't hold my tongue not for twenty pounds. " Penelly gave a gasp, and in those few moments of thought he saw all theconsequences of his escapade--the disgrace and shame--perhapsprosecution for an attempt at murder, for a magistrate might refuse tolisten to his plea that it was only in fun. But there was a gleam of hope. Zekle had mentioned money. He would nothold his tongue for twenty pounds he said. Perhaps he would. Penellyhad not twenty pounds, nor yet five; but perhaps he could get it. Turning to Zekle then he said: "If I give you ten pounds, Zekle, will you swear that you will never saya word?" "No, " said Zekle stoutly, "nor yet for twenty; and now I'm going to tellall I know. " As he spoke he turned towards the door, and Mark Penelly made a clutchat the nearest chair. CHAPTER THREE. HARRY PAUL'S PRESENT. Zekle Wynn already had his hand upon the door when, mastering thestrange feeling of dread that had seized him, Mark Penelly caught him bythe arm and held him tightly: "Look here, Zekle, " he said hoarsely; "that was all a bit of fun--ajoke; but I don't want anyone to know. I'll give you fifteen pounds ifyou'll hold your tongue. " "No, " said Zekle, stoutly; "it's my duty to tell, and I'm agoing totell. " "Twenty pounds, " cried Penelly. "No, I said afore that I wouldn't do it for twenty pounds, " said Zekle, with a very virtuous shake of the head; and as he made an effort to getaway, Penelly, who felt desperate, offered him twenty-five pounds. "Yes, twenty-five pounds, Zekle; I'll give you twenty-five, " he cried. "It ain't no use to try and tempt me, Mas'r Mark--it ain't indeed. Ididn't ought to hold my tongue about it. No, I'll go and do my duty. " "But it will nearly drive my father mad, " said Penelly imploringly;while Zekle's little sharp eyes twinkled as their owner wondered whetherhis victim could muster twenty-five pounds. "I'm very sorry, of course, " said Zekle; "but you see a man must do hisduty. No, no, Mas'r Mark, you mustn't tempt me. " "I'll get you the money at once, Zekle, " said Penelly, who saw that hisvisitor was trembling in the balance--that is, he appeared to be; butZekle had make up his mind to have twenty-five pounds down before heentered the house. "I didn't ought to take it, you know, " said Zekle, hesitating. "But you will, Zekle, and I'll never forget your goodness, " said Penellyimploringly; and then hastily locking the door to make sure that hisvisitor did not go, he went out of the room straight to a desk in hisfather's office, which he opened with a key of his own, and returneddirectly with four five-pound notes and five sovereigns. "I oughtn't to take this, Mas'r Mark, " Zekle grumbled; "it ar'n't myduty, you know; and I wish you'd give me sov'rins instead of themnotes. " "I cannot, " said Penelly sharply. "It has been hard work to get that. " "Then I s'pose I must take them, " said Zekle, "but it don't seem like myduty to;" and as he spoke he carefully wrapped up the notes and placedthem with the gold in his pocket. "Now, you'll swear you'll never say a word to a soul about this, Zekle. " "Of course I won't, Mas'r Mark. But it goes again the grit. I wouldn'tdo it for anyone, you know; but as you say it would be hard on your poorfather, I won't tell. " Penelly bit his lips and said nothing, while Zekle went maundering onabout his duty, and how unwilling he was to take the money, till, seeingan awkward look in his victim's eyes, he concluded that he had bettergo, and went out, turning at the door to tell Penelly that he might bequite comfortable now, and wishing him good-night. "Comfortable, you scoundrel!" cried Penelly as soon as he was alone. "Ishall never be comfortable till the news comes in that you have beenlost overboard in a storm. I've been a fool. I was a fool to do such athing. I only thought it would give him a ducking; and I'm a greaterfool to try and bribe that scoundrel. He'll be always bleeding me now. I'd far better have set him at defiance and bid him do his worst. Bah!I wish I was not such a coward. " "If I don't make him pay me pretty heavy for all this, " said Zekle, chuckling to himself, "I'll know the reason why. Five-and-twenty poundsearned right slap off by just seeing that net pitched overboard! That'scleverness, that is. Now I'll just go up to Mas'r Harry Paul and seewhat he has got to say. P'r'aps there's a five or a ten to be madethere. It's better than fishing by a long way. " Harry Paul's home was a pleasant cottage on the cliff-side, and on Zekleknocking the door was opened by Harry's widowed mother, who fetched herson and left the two together. "Ah, Zekle!" cried Harry frankly, as he held out his hand, "I'm afraid Idid not half thank you for helping to save my life. " "Oh! it don't matter, Mas'r Harry, " said the fellow, smiling andshuffling about. "But it does matter, " said Harry warmly; "and I am very grateful to you. I am going into Penzance to-morrow, Zekle, and when I come back I'mgoing to ask you to accept a silver watch to keep in remembrance of whatyou did. " "Oh, you needn't do that, Mas'r Harry, " replied Zekle; "but I thoughtI'd like to tell you, don't you know, all about like how it happened. Ikinder felt it to be my duty, you see, and then if you liked to say tome, `Here, Zekle Wynn, here's five or ten pounds for you for what youdid, ' why you could, you know; but if you didn't, why it wouldn't mattera bit, for I always feel as if it was a man's duty not to take no money'less he's earned it. " "Ah!" said Harry, looking at him with quite an altered expression. "You see, you don't know all, " said Zekle mysteriously, as he wentsoftly to the door, peeped out, and then spoke in a whisper. "Know all!" said Harry. "Why, I know I was nearly drowned. " "Yes, " said Zekle, going closer to him and taking hold of his pilotjacket, "you was nearly drownded; but how was it?" "Some of your pile of mackerel net fell overboard and covered me up. Itwas very careless of you people. " "Mack'rel nets don't tumble overboard and nigh upon drownd peoplewithout somebody makes 'em, " said Zekle with a cunning leer. "Somebody makes them!" said Harry with his eyes flashing. "Why, youdon't mean to say that anybody threw that net over me as I swam round!" "Oh, no!" said Zekle, "I wouldn't say such a thing of nobody. Oh, no!'tain't my duty to go about telling tales. " "Look here, " said Harry sharply, "if you expect to earn any reward fromme, Zekle Wynn, for telling how it was that that net came over me--and Iown that it was very strange that it should just as I was swimming by--speak out like a man. " "Oh, no! I can't go accusing people of what they p'r'aps didn't do, "said Zekle; "but look here, Mas'r Harry, have you got any enemies?" "Enemies! no, " said the young man. "Perhaps Mark Penelly is not veryfond of me since we had that quarrel, but I've no enemies. " "Ho!" said Zekle with a peculiar grin. "Who was aboard our boat?" "I did not see him as I swam up, but I suppose Mark Penelly was there. " Zekle nodded. "Yes, and he walked round to the side; and I saw him, as I was shakingout the fish, go and stand by them mack'rel nets. " "And do you dare to say that he threw them over me?" "Oh, no!" said Zekle, "I wouldn't say such a thing of anybody, Mas'rHarry; no, 'tain't my duty. I wouldn't accuse no one; but them nets wassafe aboard one minute, and the next minute twenty fathom was atop ofyou; and if we hadn't hauled you out you wouldn't have been talking tome just now. " Harry Paul jumped up and began to walk about the room, his face flushedand his hands twitching. "Look here, Zekle Wynn!" he said sharply, "I'm plain-spoken, and I likepeople to be plain-spoken with me. Now, mind what you are saying. " "Oh, yes! Mas'r Harry, I am very careful what I say, and I'll go now;but I thought it was my duty to come, and I said to myself, `If he likesto say to me, "There's five or ten pound for you, Zekle Wynn, " why, hecould, ' but of course I don't expect nothing for doing my duty. " "Oh, you don't expect anything?" said Harry sharply. "Oh, no, Mas'r Harry, sir; I never expect to receive anything for doingmy duty. " "And you thought it was your duty to come and tell me that Mark Penellytried to drown me?" "Oh, no! Mas'r Harry, sir--oh dear, no! I never said nothing o' thatsort; I only said as the net was in the boat one minute and the nextminute it was all over you. " "Same thing, Zekle, " said Harry sharply. "And you didn't expectanything for coming and telling me this?" "Oh dear, no! Mas'r Harry, sir, " replied Zekle. "Then you'll be disappointed, " said Harry, smiling pleasantly, "for Ishall give you something. " "Oh, thank you! Mas'r Harry, sir, " said Zekle, whose face expanded withpleasure. A moment before he had not liked the way in which Harry hadtaken his hints; but now this declaration of an intention to give himsomething was pleasant, and he smiled quite broadly as the young manwent to a cupboard. "Will it be five or ten pound?" said Zekle to himself. "I'm making agood night of it this time, and if I don't--Don't you hit me with thatthere, Mas'r Harry! don't you hit me with that there!" he roaredsuddenly. "Don't you hit me with that there, or I'll have the law ofyou. " "Get out of the place, you contemptible, tale-bearing sneak!" saidHarry; and he accompanied his words with lash after lash of a bigold-fashioned dog-whip. "How dare you come here with your miserablestories! Out with you, you dog, or I'll lash you till you are blue!" There could be no doubt but that some of the strokes administered wouldleave blue weals, though Zekle did not get many. Four or five fell uponhis back and sides, however, before he got out of the door; and he wasjust turning to shake his fist and vow vengeance when a tremendous lashcurled round him, inflicting so much pain that he uttered a loud yelland ran as hard as he could to a safe distance, where he turned once toshout, "Yah, coward!" and then disappeared. "Coward!" said Harry bitterly. "Well, people say I am. Don't befrightened, dear, " he continued as his mother entered the room in haste. "But I am, my dear, " she cried excitedly. "What does all this mean?" "I only used the dog-whip to a scoundrel--that's all, " he said, with areassuring smile; and as soon as he had pacified her he went outside towalk up and down and think about his late escape. "No, " he said at last after a long thought, during which he had gonewell over his adventures that evening; "I will not believe that a mancould be such a wretch. " He felt better after this and went in; but that night the excitement ofthe adventure and the effects of his immersion were sufficient to keephim awake hour after hour, while when he dropped off into an uneasyslumber it was for his mind to be haunted by dreams in which he wasbeing dragged down into the depths of the sea by a strange monster thatclung to his limbs and writhed about him, making him shudder as he feltthe chilling embrace. Again and again he awoke and tried to shake off the unpleasantsensation, but no sooner did he drop off to sleep again than thehorrible dream came back, gathering in intensity as the time wore on. Then came a variation. Mark Penelly was the creature that was trying todrown him; and as he dragged him down and down, lower and lower, intothe depths, he kept telling him that it was because he was such aterrible coward, but that if he would dive off Carn Du into a ninth wavehe would let him live. This went on till it grew unbearable, so, leaping out of bed, Harry wentto the window, drew up the blind, and threw open the casement, to leanout and gaze at the grey sea, that looked so dark in the early dawn ofmorning. It was as smooth as a pond, except where, with a low moan, it heaved upand beat against Carn Du, falling back with an angry hiss as if ofdisappointment, while all above looked calm and dark and starlit. Away to the east, though, there was a faint light, telling of the comingday; and as Harry Paul stood there, with the soft fresh morning breezeblowing in his hair, he made up his mind that he would go and fish forthree or four hours before breakfast, as he could not sleep. A good wash made him feel fresher. Then dressing, he took a couple oflines from a cupboard down-stairs, and went out. He had no difficulty in getting half-a-dozen damaged mackerel down inthe harbour--fish that had been torn by the nets; but he was only justin time, for in the soft grey light he could see the gulls already busyfloating down on their ghostly-looking wings in the gloom, uttering amournful, peevish wail, and carrying off fragments of fish for theirmorning meal. "Another ten minutes, and there would not have been one left, " mutteredHarry, as he strode along the rock-strewn shore to where his boat wasdrawn up high and dry. He, however, soon had her afloat, and, takingone of the oars, he stood up in the stern and sculled her out with thatpeculiar fish-tail motion which is so puzzling to one not used to thecustom. Half an hour's sculling took him out to a great buoy close by somesunken rocks; and having made fast his boat to the rusty, barnacle-encrusted ring, he proceeded to bait his lines, and lowereddown the leads into the deep water below. "What's it to be this morning?" he said. "They ought to bite on such atide as this. " He held one line in his hand, twisted the other round one of thethole-pins of the boat, and then sat waiting. There was black Carn Duright in front, with the waters rising up dark and glistening, to fallback fringed with pale ghostly white. Then, as no fish bit to take up his attention, he began to think of thegreat black mass of rock, and to ask himself whether it was worth hiswhile to go that or the next evening, and, climbing up, take the plungeas he had seen so many young men take it before. "If I did, " he said, "it would please a good many people, and they wouldno longer look upon me as a coward. I think I could--I feel sure Icould. But if I did take the dive how people would triumph after all, and say that I was stung into doing it by what they had said!" "No, " he added, after a little more consideration; "they may say whatthey like. I'll hold to my determination. Coward or no, I'm not goingto prove my courage for the sake of gratifying busy tattling people. Better remain a coward all my--Ah, that's one!" A sharp snatch at his line, followed by a long peculiar drag, told himwhat was at his bait; and after a little giving and taking, he drew aheavy twining conger eel over the boat's edge, having no littledifficulty in preventing it from tangling his line, for it was quite ayard in length, and proportionately thick. His captive was, however, soon safe in the large basket, and he hadhardly closed the lid and placed a boulder used as ballast upon itbefore a tug at his other line made the thole-pin rattle, and after alittle hauling he dragged in a gloriously-coloured gurnard, whoseoutspread fins looked like the wings of some lovely butterfly. Then hedrew in, one after the other, a couple of wrasse, all grey and green andgold, with their protuberant mouths and curious teeth, after which therewas a pause, and, drawing up one of his lines, Harry placed thereon amuch larger hook, bound with wire right up the cord that held it. Uponthis he placed quite half a mackerel, secured it well to the hook with apiece of string, and then, throwing it over the side, he waited, afterfeeling the lead touch the rock below, and wondered whether he shouldcapture what he believed to be lurking amongst the ledges of the pieceof rock. "I may either get a conger or a good hake, " he thought to himself. "There's always someone glad of a good hake. " He waited with all a fisherman's patience, and, used as he was to suchscenes, he could not help feeling gladdened at the glorious sight thatmet his gaze, for, one by one, the stars had paled, till only that namedafter the morning shone out resplendent in the now grey west; while toeastward all was blushing with bright red and gold and purple andorange, tints so wondrously beautiful and rich that Nature had enough tospare for sea as well as sky. While the latter was growing moment bymoment more refulgent, the former caught the wondrous dyes, till thewater seemed everywhere like molten gold with ruddy and empurpledreflections where the sea gave a gentle heave. Even the gulls and shagsthat floated on the tide seemed to be glorified by the wondrous colour, till Harry, as he sat there with the stout cord of his fishing-linetwisted round his hand, felt how majestic and awe-inspiring was thecoming of the new-born day, and involuntarily exclaimed: "Who would stay in bed if they knew what the dawn is like on such a mornas this!" So rapt was he in the grandeur of the scene that he had forgotten allabout the object of his journey, but he was brought back to thematter-of-fact present by a tremendous snatch which jerked his armhanging over the side, and made the cord cut so violently into his handthat he was glad to give the line a twist and set it free to run forsome distance before he began to check it a little. "It's a monster, " he said, as he felt the struggles of the fish, whichdragged so heavily that, to save his line from breaking, as it was, inspite of giving and taking, nearly run out, he cast the boat loose andlet it drift as the fish tugged. It was not big enough to drag it along, but it had some influence on theboat, moving it slowly, and this eased the line, which Harry had hauledupon, so that he kept getting in fathom after fathom ready for thecaptive's next run. This was not long in coming, for after keeping up a steady strain forabout a minute, and drawing the fish, whatever it might be, nearer andnearer to the surface, there was a sudden snatch, and away it went againstraight for the bottom like an arrow, and then right away. "The line will break directly, " thought Harry. "It must be either agreat conger or a monster hake, or else it's a small shark. Small!--no, that it isn't!" he exclaimed as he felt himself steadily drawn alongwith the current; "I shall never get it. " Now he was able to haul in a little, the fish coming towards the surfacein obedience to his steady drag; now it turned and went off again to thelast yard of line, and then the boat was steadily drawn along, whileHarry's wonder was that the strands did not break or the hook drag out. "This comes of having good new tackle, " he said; and then, "Ah, I mustlose it if it pulls like this. " For the fish made so furious a strain upon the line that he felt that itmust break; no such line could bear it. He felt in despair, for he was all eagerness now to see the monster hehad hooked, when a happy thought suggested itself, and in an instant hehad made three or four hitches round one of the oars with the end of theline, and cast it overboard. "There, " he said, "you may tug at that, and I'll follow you. " Away went the light oar over the surface, bobbing down at one end, andraising the blade in the air, while, putting the other over the stern, Harry stood up, full of excitement, and began sculling after the noveltravelling float, when a wild cry for help, that seemed to send ashudder through his frame, came from behind him over the surface of thesea. CHAPTER FOUR. A FISH NOT FISHED FOR. Hake, conger, shark, whatever it might be, forgotten as Harry Paul heardthat cry repeated. He had already begun turning his little boat, andthen, bending to his task, he forced it through the water as he stood upin the stern, making the rippling waves rattle and splash against herbows as a line of foam parted on either side. He could see nothing for the moment, but he knew that some one must bein deadly peril in the direction in which he had heard the cry, and, exerting all his strength, he made for the place whence he thought itmust have come. He was puzzled, for, save a few luggers swinging from the little buoysthat dotted the surface of the sea, there was not a sign of an accidentby the upsetting of a boat, or of any one struggling in the water. Everything looked bright and cheerful in the morning sun, and aftersculling along for some time he was beginning to think that the cry musthave been uttered by some sea-bird, seeming weird and strange in theearly morning, when he suddenly recalled the fact that sound travels farover a smooth, calm sea. Had he felt any further doubt it was solved on the instant by arepetition of the cry, this time clearer, and plainly to be interpretedinto that agonising appeal that thrills the hearts of weak and strongalike--the one word "_Help_!" And now, plainly enough, he could see the head of some one whose handsappeared at intervals above the water, evidently in a fierce strugglefor life. Whoever it was had lost his nerve and was in some peril, for though notabove a hundred yards or so from the shore he was in the race of afierce current that at certain periods of the tide ran so swiftlyamongst the rocks that a strongly-manned boat could not stem its force. "It must be some stranger, " thought Harry, as he exerted himself moreand more. "Poor fellow! I shall never get to him in time. " And then, with the big drops standing upon his forehead, he toiled on, his eyes fixed upon the drowning figure, and the feeling strong upon himof how awful it was for anyone to be called upon to yield up his life onsuch a glorious morning as this. At times his heart seemed to stand still with the chilling influence ofthe horror he felt, for, in spite of his efforts, the boat seemed tocrawl over the surface of the water. He was now near enough to see that it was a man--evidently a bather--whowas struggling for his life and in terrible danger. The poor fellowseemed to have gone out too far, and, in his ignorance, had been drawninto the fierce current--one that no one dwelling about Carn Du wouldhave ventured to approach; and, unless help were soon afforded, therewould be a dead body cast up somewhere by a weedy cove just about theturn of the tide. Harry Paul's thoughts were busy, coward as he was, while his heart wasbeating so painfully that he seemed ready to choke. "I can only do one thing, " he thought--"try to reach him with the boat. If I jump over and swim, I shall get there no faster, but if I do hewill seize me in a drowning clutch, and we shall both go down. " A curious shuddering sensation ran through him, and the remembrance ofwhat he had gone through on the previous day came back with a strangeexactness, in which he seemed to feel once more the cold clinging touchof the net upon his bare skin, and for the moment he felt as if he wereparalysed. He shook off the horrible sensation, though, and, toiling away at hisoar, sent the boat rapidly on, so as to get into the current at rightangles to its course, and be swept on towards the drowning man. The help must come quickly if it was to be of use, for the swimmer wasbecoming a swimmer no longer. The horror of his position had robbedhim, as it were, of his knowledge, and instead of striking out slowlyand calmly, almost without effort, and keeping his head as low down inthe water as possible, he was making frantic efforts to raise himselffrom time to time, and beating the water with his hands. Then Harry could see an effort of the reason made over the animalfaculties, and for a few moments the drowning man took a few steadystrokes, but only to utter a gurgling cry and throw up his hands, beatthe water again, and go under. The moment before Harry Paul seemed to have been exerting his fullstrength to force the boat through the water, but an accession ofstrength came to him, and with a few fierce thrusts he drove her bowsinto the edge of the current, which gave it so quick a snatch that itwas whirled round, and its occupant nearly lost his footing; but he wastoo practised a boatman for that. Recovering himself directly, heplanted a foot on either side, the oar bent in the water, and, gettingthe boat's head right, he forced her along farther and farther into thecurrent, with which she seemed to race onward towards the drowning man. He was quite a hundred yards from him yet; but rapidly diminishing thedistance now, for the boat seemed to tear along; but Harry's heart sanklower and lower, and the chilly feeling of despair grew more strong as, just when he had reduced the distance to about fifty yards, he saw ahand appear for a moment above the water, and then disappear, leavingthe glistening surface perfectly blank. Harry uttered a hoarse cry as he still sculled along, his eyes fixedupon the spot where the hand had disappeared, and then tracing inimagination the course the drowning man would take as he was swept alongbeneath the surface, he made for the place. It was in imagination, but his mental calculation was not far wrong, forwithin a few yards of where it might be expected, and not ten from wherehe was now sculling, he saw something roll up as it were to the surface, there was a gleam of white in the sunlit water, and then it wasdisappearing again, when, acting upon the impulse of the moment, Harryloosened his hold of the oar, took two steps forward over the thwarts, and leaped into the sea. As Harry Paul disappeared in the swift current the boat rocked anddanced, and was sent many feet away by the impulse it received; but ashe rose to the surface, regardless of everything but the drowning man hewas striving to save, the boat swept by him, lightened of its load, andwas whirled slowly round and round. It was a matter of impulse, and Harry Paul's experience should havetaught him that keeping perfectly cool, and urging the boat along towhere he had last seen the body, was the surest way of rendering help. But there are times when even those of the strongest mental capacityfind it is difficult to retain their presence of mind. It was so here. Led away by his feelings and the gallant desire he feltto succour someone in distress, Harry had as it were kicked away whatmeant life for both; but he did not realise the danger then. As he plunged beneath the surface of the racing current he recalled thefact that he was almost fully dressed, for the thick flannel jersey hewore seemed to cling to his arms and impede his action, but that wasforgotten directly, as he rose in the water and looked around. There was nothing visible. He was too late, so it seemed; but he swamstrongly on, the cold immersion seeming to lend additional vigour to hisframe. Now there was something! No; it was only a bunch of seaweed floating by, with its long streamersspreading out in the clear water like a woman's hair. He was too late, too late, and--Yes, that was something white down in the water risingnow, and--Yes, he had it--a man's wrist, and the next moment he hadgiven it a drag which brought its owner's head above the surface. He was not dead, for, as Harry Paul turned him so that he floated on hisback with his face above water, the drowning man began to make franticclutches with his hands, so that it was only by loosing his hold andgetting behind that Harry Paul avoided what would have been a deadlyembrace. He knew well enough what he ought to do, namely, seize the drowning manby the hair, and then turn upon his own back and float, drawing theother after him; but on trying this a difficulty met him at the offset:the man's hair was very short; but he got over it by grasping his ears, and then, throwing himself back, he struck out with his legs so as tokeep afloat and go with the racing current. CHAPTER FIVE. COALS OF FIRE ON AN ENEMY'S HEAD. Harry Paul had been so busily employed in avoiding the drowning man'sgrasp that, for the moment, the boat was forgotten. Now, however, thathe had mastered him, he raised his head a little to look; but the boatwas far away beyond his reach, and progressing at such a rate that hecould not have overtaken it even had he been alone. A feeling of dread would have mastered him now, but for the strong nervethat he brought to bear. There was no help there. They were severalhundred yards now from the shore, and every moment being carried fartheraway. The part they were in was hidden by the great black pile of rocksby Carn Du from the little town and harbour, so that their peril couldnot be seen. It was evident, too, that the loud cries for help had notreached the ears of those about the harbour, and that no one wasanywhere about the boats that swung from the buoys. On the one sidethere was the open sea, on the other the piled-up granite, which rose uplike hand-built buttresses, composed of vast squared masses rising tierupon tier. At their foot the foam fretted and beat, and the forests ofseaweed washed to and fro, presenting an almost impenetrable barrier toany one wishing to land; though here it was impossible, for the racingcurrent formed another barrier, which a boat propelled by stout rowerswould hardly have passed. The act of his keeping the drowning man's face slightly above the waterhad a bad effect for Harry Paul, inasmuch as it made him he was tryingto succour struggle and endeavour to clutch at the arms that held him. Once he could do this, Harry knew that his case would be hopeless, forfrom that death-grapple there could be no escape. He held the man thenfirmly and swam on, feeling himself moment by moment grow more weary, for he was swimming in his clinging clothes, and unless help soon camehe knew that he must loosen his grasp and strive to save his own life. Terrible coward as he was deemed, though, this was not in Harry Paul'sdisposition. He possessed all the stern, dogged determination of thetrue Englishman--that determination which has made our race renownedthroughout the length and breadth of the world. He had determined tosave this drowning man; he felt that it was incumbent upon him to givehis best efforts to that end; so, setting his teeth, he cleverly managedto elude every clutch made at him, and swam on. He did not know where he was going, but he felt that his only chance wasto go with the current till he should be swept near some of the outlyingrocks, when they might be drawn into an eddy, and so be able to climb upon to the shell-covered stones, and wait there till they were seen. Try how he would, after some struggle with his captive it was impossibleto help feeling a chill of dread, for he knew that he was swimming morelaboriously, and that his limbs were like so much lead; but still hestruggled on. Every now and then, too, the water washed over his face, telling him that his position was lower, and at last, when all seemed tobe over and his strength was ebbing away, he raised his head for a lastfarewell look-out for help, and one of his hands struck against a rock. Almost as he touched it the stream bore him by, but there was anothermass close at hand, hung with tresses of seaweed and thickly strewedwith mussels, and here he got a hold for a few moments, in spite of thedrag of the rushing water. It required no little effort to hold on and support the drowning man aswell, but even a few moments' rest gave him some return of power, and hewas helped now by his companion, who in a feeble struggle to get at andclutch something, caught at the seaweed, into which his fingersconvulsively wound themselves, and thus gave Harry Paul a hand atliberty for his own use. It was some time, though, before he dared to do more than cling to therock. He was too weak and helpless. At the end of a few minutes, however, he felt stronger, and summoning up his energies for the effort, he got one hand higher, then the other, and clung there half out of thewater. There was less drag upon him here from the stream; his breath came morefreely, and with it returning strength, sufficient to enable him toclimb right out of the water, lie face downwards upon the rock, and, stretching down his hands, clasp the wrists of his companion, whosefingers seemed to have grown into the tough weed to which they clung. This act brought his face within a foot or so of his companion'scountenance. Their eyes met, and in his surprise Harry Paul nearly letgo, for he now for the first time realised the fact that he had beenrisking his life in an endeavour to save that of the man whom he hadheard accused of an attempt to destroy him the night before. It was a strange position, and Harry Paul, as he bent down holdingPenelly there, recalled all he had heard, and, in spite of his manlyfeelings, he could not help believing that in a sudden fit of dislike, or under a momentary temptation, Penelly had thrown the nets over him, though evidently repenting the next moment of what he had done. Penelly, too, was fast recovering his strength, and with it the horriblesense of confusion was passing away. He, too, realised that the manwhom he had so cruelly assailed was now sustaining him after evidentlyswimming to his aid. He gazed for a few moments straight into Harry's eyes, and in theirstern gaze as they seemed to read him through and through, he saw, orfancied that he saw, his own condemnation, and that Harry was going tothrust him from his hold. It was a strange reaction as he hung there--he, the brave and daringswimmer, famed for his dives off Carn Du, held up by the man he hadalways denounced as a terrible coward; whom he had hated from boyhoodalmost, without cause, and whom really, under the impulse of a horribletemptation, he had on the previous night tried to hamper in hisswimming, though not really to drown. Neither spoke, neither stirred for some time. There was no great strainupon Harry's hands now, since Penelly's grasp was desperate. The formerwas content to lie there gazing into his enemy's eyes, for his strengthwas returning with every breath; that breathing was less laboured, and, in place of his heart throbbing and jumping, sending hot gushes ofblood, as it were, choking to his throat, it began to settle steadilydown to its ordinary labours in the breast of a strongly-built, healthy, temperate man. "Conscience makes cowards of us all;" so the great writer has said; andtruer words never stood out bold and striking from the paper on whichthey were written. In his abject misery and dread, Mark Penelly saw, in the stern gazebefore him, anger and a vindictive desire for revenge; he saw thereinfierce hate, and an implacable, unchanging condemnation; he felt thatHarry was sustaining him there where he had dragged him to make hissufferings more acute, and that, after holding him up for a while, hewould loosen his hold, causing him to sink at once into the deep waterby the rocks, and be swept away by the tremendous current. He judged Harry Paul, in fact, by the same measure as he would havemeted out to an enemy himself; and so terrible were his thoughts, sohorrifying to him was the thought of the death from which he hadescaped, that he was robbed of all energy; he had not strength to domore than hang there clinging to the weeds with desperate clutch, and, with only his head out of water, gaze up in Harry's stern eyes. And they were stern, for strange thoughts had intruded themselves, seeming to take possession of the young man's mind, and making him speakand act contrary to his wont. At last he spoke, and the trembling wretch beneath him shivered anduttered a despairing cry. "How came you in the water?" said Harry sternly. "Oh, in mercy, spare me, Harry Paul, " shrieked the miserable wretch, "and I'll tell you all. " "Then he _did_ throw the nets over me, " thought Harry, in spite ofhimself; and he began to wonder why it was he did not make an effort todrag Penelly on to the rock. "Tell me, then, " he said in a low hoarse voice, that he did not know forhis own. "I will--yes, I will tell you, " said Penelly; "only promise me you'llspare me. " "Tell me this moment, " said Harry sternly. "You are going to let me sink down, " cried Penelly in horror-strickentones. "Oh, Harry Paul, my good, brave fellow! help me out--save me--save me!" A curious smile curled the young man's lip, one which horrified Penelly, who shrieked out: "Yes, yes; I'll confess all. Zekle Wynn threatened to tell--to tell--" "That you threw the net over me last night?" "Yes--yes--I did; but it was an accident--an ac--" "What?" roared Harry. "No, no--I confess, " said Penelly feebly, for he felt that his last hourhad come. "I did it. I felt tempted to do it when you swam round; butHeaven's my witness, Harry, I only meant to duck you. I meant to helpdrag you out after a minute, and so I did. " "How came you in the race this morning?" said Harry, in a cold, cuttingvoice. "I'll--I'll confess all, " said Penelly faintly, "only help me out andsave my life. I'll go away from Carn Du, Harry Paul. I'll be like yourdog in future, only save me. " "The dog of a terrible coward?" said Harry coldly. "Oh, no; but you are not a coward, Harry. Help!" "How came you in the race?" "I--I--swam off to the lugger. I meant to swim off and cut her adrift--the lugger Zekle was in--he said he'd tell you. I got into the waterthis side of Carn Du, and meant to swim to the buoy, cut her adrift, andswim back, but I was caught in the race. Help me out--I'm dying! Oh!help me, Harry! help!" Harry Paul made no effort to drag the wretched man out, but gazedthoughtfully downward into his eyes, while, under the influence of thatstern gaze, Penelly quailed and shuddered, his blue lips parted, hiseyes seem to start, but he could not speak. "Mark Penelly, " said Harry at length; and his voice sounded deep andangry, and like the utterance of a judge, to the despairing wretchbeneath him--"Mark Penelly, I never did you any harm. " Penelly stared at him wildly, but he could not answer. "You have always made yourself my enemy, and tried to ruin me in thesight of others. It is to you I owe the character of being the greatestcoward in Carn Du. You said I was a miserable cur--a dog. Every doghas his day, and now it is mine. It is my turn now, and I mean to haverevenge. " As he spoke his hands tightened round the shivering man's wrists tillthey seemed like iron bands. He changed his position rapidly, and asPenelly closed his eyes, lowered the miserable wretch down till thewater covered his lips, and then, by one strong effort, dragged him outon to the weedy rock, where he lay motionless and half dead, his eyesfixed upon Harry, and evidently waiting for the end. "Poor wretch!" said Harry to himself, as he gazed down at the helplessman, and, loosening and taking off his woollen jersey, he wrung ittightly, getting out as much water as he could, and then drew it on thestony cold figure lying in the washed-up dry brown weed. This, too, hedragged over him, piling it up in a heap, to try and give him somewarmth, while the exertion sent a thrill of heat through his ownhalf-naked frame. Fortunately, the sun's rays came down hot and bright, and the rock grewwarmer, so that by degrees the terribly void look began to leave MarkPenelly's face, and at last, when Harry held out his hand, saying, "Doyou feel better?" Mark Penelly caught it in both of his, clung to it, and, turning half over on his face, laid his forehead against it, and, forgetting his years of manhood, lay there in his weakness, and sobbedand cried like a child. They were on that rock till nightfall, when a passing lugger bound forthe fishing-ground answered their hail, and sent a boat to take themoff, giving them the news that Harry's boat had been found ashore, withonly one oar, and Mark Penelly's clothes beyond Carn Du, and that theywere mourned as lost. This mourning was soon, however, turned into joy; but before the twoyoung men parted at the harbour Mark said humbly: "Forgive me, Harry, and I'll try to be another man. " With a frank smile on his face Harry held out his hand, and giving theother's a hearty grip he exclaimed: "Ask God to forgive you, Mark; I am going to forget the past. I thankHim that I saved your life. "