Chapter V: A Catastrophe

Blackrock School could never be the same again to Howard. Although he had "the answer of a good conscience" in regard to the matters implied against him, he could not but feel that, whereas he once could challenge all the world against holding a suspicion of his integrity, now there might be many who were in a state of doubt as to whether he were trustworthy or not.

He grew dull and somber, and, although he had the satisfaction of knowing that no cloud of distrust hovered over his home circle, he could not shake off that uneasy feeling which haunted him, and which none know how to appreciate save those who have been wrongfully suspected.

It was the early summer season, and the time was coming round for those school sports which usually sink everything else into forgetfulness. The cricket matches were planned, the bathing and boating season had commenced, the woods were green with summer verdure. In former years Howard and Digby always had thrown themselves heart and soul into all the sports, as leaders of the school. But now neither took much interest in things of the kind. Digby was morose and sullen, while Howard was sad, and unusually depressed.

I have said that the bathing season had commenced at the school, notwithstanding the fact that the weather was so changeable as to be one night as cold as October, and the next morning as hot as July. But I have not yet described the bathing-place, and, perhaps, I should have done so at the commencement of the story, as it accounts for the somewhat singular name of the school.

The river ran just at the end of the school grounds, within a stone's throw of the favorite lounging-place of the boys, under the elms. The river bank at that part was very steep, and just under the clump of trees a huge black rock, fern-grown and slippery, stretched out into the river. At one side of this rock the bank shelved down, gradually and evenly, into a large basin or hole, partially overhung by the trees, and quite out of the rapid current of the river.

This was the bathing-place, and it was one of the best I have ever seen. The boat-houses were about half a mile down the river, and bathing and boating were two of the special features of Blackrock sports. The Doctor maintained (as every sensible person ought), that while cricket and foot-ball are desirable, swimming is essential, and he laid it down as a rule that everybody should learn to swim, and that on no account should a boy be allowed to enter a boat until he was a sufficiently good swimmer to get safely to shore, should his boat be upset.

Monday morning was as bright and warm as the previous evening had been cold and miserable. Lessons were studied in the grounds instead of in the class-rooms, and when the breakfast bell rang, there were not a few who were talking about the forthcoming bath and the evening row.

At prayers, Digby was absent. Not for the first time, within the recollection of many; but as he had not sent in any excuse for non-attendance, Howard and McDonald, who occupied the rooms next to his, were asked if they knew what had become of him. Neither of them did, but McDonald remarked that he was up earlier than usual, which was not considered at all remarkable, as the morning was deliciously warm and bright.

The Doctor looked displeased, but no further notice was taken before the boys, although he had made up his mind to administer a serious caution to Master Digby for irregularities, which latterly were becoming so frequent as to call for special notice.

The time for bathing was fixed for an hour after breakfast, the doctor holding that while the weather was unsettled, and the water cold, bathing was more beneficial a little while after a light meal than before.

A rush was made to the clump of trees, and a pell-mell scamper down the steep bank. When Mr. Featherstone, one of the masters, came up two minutes after with some of the older boys, amongst whom were Martin and Howard, he was surprised to hear his name called loudly by several of the boys.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Digby Morton's clothes are on the bank," cried Aleck Fraser, excitedly, "but we can't see him anywhere."

Mr. Featherstone had all his wits about him. He knew the rough stepping-places up to the head of the Blackrock, from which he could scan the river up and down. In a moment he was standing on the rock, carefully taking within his view every yard of ground within range; but he could see nothing of Digby.

"Martin Venables," he shouted from the rock, "run to the house, and ask the Doctor to come here at once. Howard and Aleck hurry down to the boat-house, and inquire about Morton. Send the boatman up at once with boats and men. McDonald and Marsden, go up to the meadow-dell and search. Look sharp, all of you!"

Swiftly sped the boys on their exciting errands, while Mr. Featherstone remained upon the rock, and the other boys with hushed whispers talked together in little groups, or looked into the water-holes with half-averted eyes.

Howard and Martin were the first to return, both flushed with anxious excitement. Then came the Doctor, sadly out of breath, and much distressed.

"But Digby is a good swimmer, is he not?" asked the Doctor.

"Few better in the school," answered Mr. Featherstone. "I don't like to think of the worst, but there are strong eddies in the pool this morning, and the river runs at a furious rate after the heavy rain. My fear is that he left the pool, and was caught by an eddy, and swung upon the rocks. In that case he may have been rendered insensible, and so have been drowned."

The boys returned one after another, and each unsuccessful. The boatmen soon arrived.

"Have you heard or seen anything this morning of Mr. Digby?" asked the Doctor of Mason, the manager of all the boating arrangements of the school.

"No, sir; but my man, who was agoing out to see after his lines, about six this morning, said as how he see something dark floating down the river, but he didn't pay much heed to it, till he called it to mind when the young gentlemen came down just now, and said as how Mr. Digby were missing."

"Then, should we not commence the search low down the river?" asked the Doctor.

"'Taint no manner of use," answered Mason; "with the current runnin' like this, he'd be ten mile away and more, by this time, if it was him, or more likely out at sea, as the tide would have met the river by this time. But you see, sir, it mightn't have been him after all, for there's lots o' snags and things floating down this morning after last night's rain."

But Dr. Brier would leave no stone unturned. Messengers were sent on horseback to every town and village on either side of the river, for twenty miles down; the river was dragged; boatmen were sent out to search; everything that could be done was done. But the afternoon came and no tidings. Messengers were sent early to Mr. Morton. All the towns and villages around were in excitement, but nothing came of it, and by evening the conviction was borne home to every heart, too clearly for hope to set aside, that Digby Morton was dead.