Chapter VIII: Floating Out to Sea

AS Hope watched her brother plunge into the sea on the other side of the rocks, she felt forsaken indeed.

She turned landwards, and dragged her heavy soaking clothes after her through the surf, till she stood once more beside the frightened group.

"Wilmot sent you all a message," she said sadly; "and before we get more anxious I will give it to you. I wish we all understood more about it."

"Take of some of your wet things, dear Hope," said Nellie, who had been already wringing her dress. "Can we not each contribute some dry garment; we should not miss it, and it is dreadful for you to wait two or three hours in this state."

"I am not the least cold," said Hope; "and I will walk about. No, dear, I can't change, it would be such a fuss; and I am so anxious."

Nellie did not press her further, and Hope drew them back against the cliffs.

"This is Wilmot's message: He told us to pray; and he said, 'Tell them Christ is able to save to the uttermost.'"

The young faces all turned towards her, and Hope felt bitterly that she knew not how to comfort them.

"Shall we pray?" she asked.

They knelt down on the sand, and Hope buried her face in her hands; but there was silence, interrupted only by Maude's and the little ones' sobs.

At last a gentle voice broke the stillness.

"Heavenly Father, Thou who rulest the raging of the sea, who stillest the waves when they arise, look down upon us now, and send peace into our troubled hearts. May we be delivered, if it is Thy holy will; and if not, if these waves are to come nigh to us, and end our earthly life, oh! For Jesus Christ's sake, may each one of us here be willing from our hearts to accept Thy salvation; and may the waves but introduce us into Thy eternal glory. We ask Thee, in the name of Jesus our Lord, to hear us, and bless us, and be very near to us. Amen."

When they rose from their knees, Mary slipped her little hand into Nellie's, and Hope gave her a warm kiss. "Thank you, dear," she whispered.

"Now," said Nellie cheerfully, "we must all take courage. Mr. Elliot cannot be here for a long time, and perhaps the water will reach us before he comes. But let us remember that nothing can hurt us without our Father's permission, and that even if we are surrounded by water, He can yet deliver us. But, all of you, it is a solemn time, and unless you know Jesus is your Saviour, I should advise you all to seek Him;

"'He can save to the uttermost them that come unto God by Him.'"

The little party were very silent. The solemnity of a possible grave, so near, so dreadful, was enough to awe them, and beyond a passing question or conjecture hardly a word was spoken.

The water flowed in rapidly; the ground was very level, and though the sea had seemed at first an immense distance off, they were astonished to find that it crept nearer and nearer in such a way as to leave but little hope that Wilmot could get back to them in time.

In vain their eyes looked upwards to see if there were any ledges on which they might climb. The few there were, were far above their reach. One small place, however, was discovered, and on this they stood little Mary.

"She is mamma's only comfort," said Maude; and then she burst into tears, and hid her face against Mary's dress.

A steamer now came in sight round the point, but very far away. They waved their handkerchiefs wildly, feeling it was of no use, and strained their eyes for any response.

None seemed to come; for the steamer passed gradually before them till the other point hid her from view, and then Maude suddenly exclaimed, with a shriek, which shook the nerves of the whole party:

"The water has reached us! Oh, what shall we do? What shall we do?"

"We must pray," said Nellie, looking up towards the blue sky, "each one for ourselves."

It was an awful moment, that first wetting of their feet; worse than even when the water was up to their knees.

How intently they gazed at the corner of the rocks round which Wilmot must come!

"Halloa!" called a voice from the other side of them, and there, to their right, was a young man seated in a canoe.

"I say!" he called. "Are you in danger, or only doing it for fun?"

His eyes scanned the cliffs; not an opening of any sort; he looked in their faces, and knew it was no fun, even before they had time to answer:

"Oh, can you save us, or do anything for us?"

"If I come near," he answered steadily, "you will not all rush in and swamp the canoe?"

"No," shouted Hope, "not one of us will move."

"No, we promise," answered all.

"There is no time to be lost," said the young fellow; "but I can only take one of you at once, except the little ones. Which is it to be? Be quick, and come out beyond this first wave."

Fortunately it was tolerably calm, and in this little bay there was only a swell that day.

Hope and Nellie looked at each other, and then at Mary.

"The youngest first," said Nellie.

They sprang forward, and lifted her down, and waded in with her to the canoe, taking also the next little boy with them.

The young man directed them to place the children as near to him as possible—in front of him and behind him—and telling them to hold on tight, in a moment he was paddling off as fast as he dared.

Hope and Nellie retreated to the cliff, and told Alice to be ready; for it was tacitly understood that the next in age was to go first.

"Why did he turn that way?" said George. "It is nearer to the village to the left."

They could not tell; and the minutes seemed hours till the canoe could come round to them again.

When he was seen returning, a shout of joy broke from them, for they had not expected him so soon.

"There is a large rock just round there," he said, as he came near, and they placed poor Alice beside him.

He was off again in a moment, and still the water kept on steadily rising. It was now to their middles.

"He cannot rescue us all," said George bravely; "you girls must go first."

"We will keep to ages, George," said Nellie firmly, "at least as far as I am concerned, till it comes to my turn, and then I should like Hope to go first. Let us have no confusion or dispute."

"Why should I go first?" asked Hope, looking imploringly at her.

"Because I am sure of going 'there,'" said Nellie; "and oh, Hope, I don't mind!"

As they stood now by the rocks, the swell rippled against them, and almost took them off their feet. They held each others' hands; but it began to be apparent that all could not be saved.

"Now, George," said Hope, when the canoe was seen returning; "Nellie is quite right; you go at once."

"I say!" called the young man, "I'm afraid I dare not take you tall ones on my boat! I had great work with the last when we got into the waves at the corner, and an upset would be very serious. But if you could take hold of the sternpost, it would keep you up perfectly, and it is not far."

He looked anxiously in their faces, fearing this would be considered sad news.

"I can swim a little," said George; "I think I might hold on to your rope, and then Maude could hold on to the stern. You would be back quicker for the others by taking two."

"All right," answered he, throwing his painter to him, and coming close to Maude, showed her where to hold; "just let yourself float easily," he added, "but hold firmly; don't be frightened."

"Keep up a brave heart," he said to the two who were left behind; "I will come as soon as ever I can."

"We are sure of that," said Nellie gratefully; "thank you if we never—"

"I say!" he shouted back, "can you two float?"

"Yes," shouted Hope in return.

"Then float, and don't lose your presence of mind; you will be saved, I hope!"

"I am off my feet," said Nellie hurriedly, holding tighter to Hope's arm.

"Have you courage to try to float?" said Hope; "for I too shall be out of my depth soon."

"Good-bye, then, dear Hope," said Nellie, giving her a kiss. "Look to Jesus; He knows and cares."

She spread her arms and fell backwards, committing herself not only to the deep, but to His care who she knew was "a very present help in time of trouble."

At first her agony was lest her courage should not hold out. Just floating for a few moments with a sandy shore two or three feet beneath was a very different feeling from floating on the wide ocean, drifting, it might be, out to sea.

But Nellie's habit of trust came to her aid, and she opened her eyes and looked once more calmly and trustfully up to her God.

How long she floated, she never knew.

Presently a sound of oars fell on her ears, she felt sure, above the noise of the rushing sea; and, still looking up, she felt a shadow come between her and the sunlight; her eyes were met by those of Wilmot Elliot; she was grasped by a strong grip, and lifted out of the water, and placed in the boat by the side of a dripping, shivering Hope.