Of High Descent

“Oh, all right. I know what you’re going to say – puff of wind might lay us over as we pass one of the combes. Wasn’t born here for nothing.”

Leslie said no more, but deferred to the opinion of the captain of the boat.

“Might as well have brought a line to trail. You’d have liked to fish, wouldn’t you, Vic?”

“Only when we are alone,” said Pradelle. “Can you tell me the name of that point, Miss Vine?”

“Brea,” said Louise quietly.

“And that little valley?”

“Tol Du. The old Cornish names must sound strange to any one from London.”

“Oh no,” he said, bending forward to engage her in conversation. “This place is very interesting, and I shall regret going,” he added with a sigh, and a thoughtful look toward the picturesque little group of houses on either side of the estuary.

“I should think you will,” said Harry. “Never mind, we’ve had a very jolly time. I say, Maddy,” he whispered, “you will write to a fellow, won’t you?”

“No,” she said quietly; “there is no need.”

“No need?”

“Louie will be writing to you every week, and you will answer her. I shall hear how you are getting on.”

Harry whistled and looked angrily at his sister, who was replying to some remark made by Leslie.

“Here, Vic,” he said, “she’s too heavy forward. Come and sit by my sister. That’s better. A little more over to the side, Leslie. Always trim your boat.”

The changes were made, and the little yawl sped rapidly on past the headland of grey granite hoary and shaggy with moss; past black frowning masses of slaty shale, over and amongst which the waves broke in sparkling foam, and on and on by ferny hollows and rifts, down which trickled tiny streams. The day was glorious, and the reflection of the sapphire sky dyed the sea tint of a blue that seemed amethystine in its richer transparent hue. The grey gulls floated overhead, and the tiny fish they pursued made the sea flash as they played about and showed their silvery sides.

But the conversation flagged. Possibly the fact of its being the last day of a pleasant sojourn acted upon the spirits of two of the party, while the third of the male occupants of the boat rather welcomed the restraint and silence, for it gave him an opportunity to sit and think and wonder what was to be his future, and what the animated countenance of Louise Vine meant as she answered the questions of her brother’s friend.

He was a visitor as well as her brother’s companion; he had been staying at Mr Vine’s for a fortnight. They had had endless opportunities for conversation, and – in short, Duncan Leslie felt uncomfortable.

It was then with a feeling of relief that was shared by both the ladies, that after a few miles run Henry Vine stood up in the bows, and, keeping a sharp look out for certain rocks, shouted his orders to Leslie as to the steering of the boat, and finally, as they neared the frowning cliffs, suddenly lowered the sail and took up the oars.

They were abreast of a large cave, where the swift grey-winged pigeons flew in and out over the swelling waves, which seemed to glide slowly on and on, to rush rapidly after the birds and disappear in the gloom beneath the arch. Then there was a low echoing boom as the wave struck far away in the cave, and came back hissing and whispering to be merged in the next.

“Going to row close in?” said Leslie, scanning the weird, forbidding place rather anxiously.

“Going to row right in,” said Harry, with a contemptuous smile. “Not afraid, are you?”

“Can’t say,” replied Leslie. “A little perhaps. The place does not look tempting. Do you think it is safe to go in?”

“Like to land on the rock till we come back?” said Harry, instead of answering the question.

“No,” said Leslie quietly; “but do you think it wise to row in there?”

“You’re not afraid, are you, girls?”

“I always feel nervous till we are outside again,” said Louise quietly.

“But you will be very careful, Harry,” said Madelaine.

“Think I want to drown myself?” he said bitterly. “I might just as well, p’raps, as go back to that dismal office in London, to slave from morning till night.”

He rested upon his oars for a minute or two, and perhaps from the reflection of the masses of ferns which fringed the arch of the cavern, and which were repeated in the clear waters, Victor Pradelle’s face seemed to turn of a sickly green, while one hand grasped the edge of the boat with spasmodic force.

“Now then, hold tight,” said the rower, as a swell came from seaward, running right in and raising the boat so that by skilful management she was borne forward right beneath the arch and then away into the depths of the cavern, leaving her rocking upon the watery floor, while it sped on away into the darkness, where it broke with a booming noise which echoed, and whispered, and died away in sobs, and sighs, and strange hisses and gasps, as if the creatures which made the cavern their lair had been disturbed, and were settling down again to sleep.

“There, Vic,” cried Harry, “what do you think of this?”

Pradelle was holding tightly by the side of the boat, and gazing uneasily round.

“Think? Yes: very wild and wonderful,” he said huskily.

“Wonderful? I should think it is. Goes in ever so far, only it isn’t wide enough for the boat.”

Leslie looked back at the mouth, fringed with the fronds of ferns, and at the lovely picture it framed of sunny amethystine sea; then at the rocky sides, dripping with moisture, and here of a rich metallic green, there covered with glistening weeds of various shades of olive-green and brown.

“Ahoy-oy!” shouted Harry with all his might, and at the same moment he let his oars splash in the water.

Pradelle leaped to his feet as there came a strange echo and a whirring rush, and a dozen pigeons swept past their heads from out of the depths of the water cave, and away into the brilliant sunshine.

“Oh, if I had a gun,” cried Pradelle, to hide his confusion.

“What for – to make a miss?” sneered Harry. “Now then, out with those cans. Fill every one, and I’ll try and knock off a few anemones for the governor.”

As he spoke he laid in his oars, picked a hammer and chisel from out of the locker in the forepart of the boat, and then worked it along by the side of the great cave, as from out of the clefts and crannies above and beneath the water he searched for the semi-gelatinous sea-anemones that clustered among barnacles, and the snail-like whorl molluscs whose home was on the weedy rocks.

The girls aided all they could, pointing out and receiving in the tins a many-rayed creature, which closed up till it resembled a gout of blood; now still adhering to the rock which Harry chipped off, a beautiful Actinia of olive-green with gem-like spots around the mouth and amid its fringe, of turquoise blue.

Duncan Leslie eagerly lent his help; and, not to be behindhand, Pradelle took up the boat-hook and held on, but with the smoothness and care of a sleek tom-cat, he carefully avoided wetting his hands.

“Nothing very new here,” said Harry at last, as the waves that kept coming in made the boat rise and fall gently; “there’s another better cave than this close by. Let’s go there; or what do you say to stopping here and having a smoke till the tide has risen and shut us in?”

“Is there any risk of that?” said Pradelle anxiously.

“Oh, yes, plenty.”

Leslie glanced at Louisa and thought that it would be very pleasant to play protector all through the darkness till the way was open and daylight shone again. He caught her eyes more than once and tried to read them as he wondered whether there was hope for him; but so surely as she found him gazing rather wistfully at her, she hurriedly continued the collecting, pointing out one of the beautiful objects they sought beneath the surface, and asking Pradelle to shift the boat a little farther along.

“All my vanity and conceit,” said Leslie to himself with a sigh; “and why should I worry myself about a woman? I have plenty to do without thinking of love and marriage. If I did, why not begin to dream about pleasant, straightforward Madelaine Van Heldre? There can be nothing more than a friendly feeling towards Master Harry here.”

“Now then, sit fast,” cried the latter object of his thoughts; “and if we are capsized, girls, I’ll look after you, Maddy. Pradelle here will swim out with Louie, and I shall leave you to bring out the boat, Leslie. You can swim, can’t you?”

“A little,” said the young man dryly.

Pradelle looked rather more green, for the light within the cave was of a peculiar hue, and he began to think uneasily of bathing out of a machine at Margate, holding on to a rope, and also of the effort he once made to swim across a tepid bath in town. But he laughed heartily directly after as he realised that it was all banter on his friend’s part, while, in spite of himself, he gave a sigh of relief as, riding out on the crest of a broken wave, they once more floated in the sunshine.

Ten minutes’ careful rowing among the rocks, which were now four or five feet beneath the water, now showing their weedy crests above, brought them to the mouth of another cave, only approachable from the sea, and sending the boat in here, the collection went on till it was deemed useless to take more specimens, when they passed out again, greatly to Pradelle’s satisfaction.

“How’s time?” said Harry. “Half-past four? Plenty of time. High tea at six. What shall we do – sail right out and tack, or row along here in the smooth water among the rocks?”

“Row slowly back,” said Louise; and Pradelle took an oar.

At the end of half a mile he ceased rowing.

“Tired?” said Harry.

“No; I have a blister on my hand; that’s all.”

“Come and pull, Leslie,” said Harry. “You’d better steer, Louie, and don’t send us on to a rock.”

The exchange of places was made, and once more they began to progress with the boat, travelling far more swiftly as they glided on close in to the mighty cliff which rose up overhead, dappled with mossy grey and patches of verdure, dotted with yellow and purple blooms.

“To go on like this for ever!” thought Leslie as he swung to and fro, his strong muscles making the water foam as he dipped his oar, watching Louise as she steered, and seemed troubled and ready to converse with Pradelle whenever she caught his eye.

“Starn all!” shouted Harry suddenly, as about three miles from home they came abreast of a narrow opening close to the surface of the water.

The way of the boat was checked, and Harry looked at the hole into which the tide ran and ebbed as the swell rose and fell, now nearly covering the opening, now leaving it three or four feet wide.

“Bound to say there are plenty of good specimens in there,” he said. “What do you say, Vic, shall we go in?”

“Impossible.”

“Not it. Bound to say that’s the opening to quite a large zorn. I’ve seen the seals go in there often.”

“Has it ever been explored?” said Leslie, who felt interested in the place.

“No; it’s nearly always covered. It’s only at low tides like this that the opening is bared. If the girls were not here I’d go in.”

“How?” said Pradelle.

“How? – why swim in.”

“And be shut up by the tide and drowned,” said Louise.

“Good thing too,” said Harry, with the same look of a spoiled boy at Madelaine. “I don’t find life go very jolly. Boat wouldn’t pass in there.”

He had risen from his seat and was standing with one foot on the gunwale, the other on the thwart, gazing curiously at the dark orifice some forty yards away, the boat rising and falling as it swayed here and there on the waves, which ran up to the face of the cliff and back, when just as the attention of all was fixed upon the little opening, from which came curious hissing and rushing noises, the boat rose on a good-sized swell, and as it sank was left upon the top of a weedy rock which seemed to rise like the shaggy head of a huge sea monster beneath the keel.

There was a bump, a grinding, grating noise, a shout and a heavy splash, and the boat, after narrowly escaping being capsized, floated once more in deep water; but Harry had lost his balance, gone overboard, and disappeared.

Madelaine uttered a cry of horror, and then for a few moments there was a dead silence, during which Louise sat with blanched face, parted lips, and dilated eyes, gazing at the spot where her brother had disappeared. Pradelle held on by the side of the boat, and Leslie sprang up, rapidly stripped off coat and vest, and stood ready to plunge in.

Those moments seemed indefinitely prolonged, and a terrible feeling of despair began to attack the occupants of the boat as thought after thought, each of the blackest type, flashed through their brains. He had been sucked down by the undertow, and was being carried out to sea – he was entangled in the slimy sea wrack, and could not rise again – he had struck his head against the rocks, stunned himself, and gone down like a stone, and so on.

Duncan Leslie darted one glance at the pale and suffering face of the sister, placed a foot on the gunwale, and was in the act of gathering himself up to spring from the boat, when Harry’s head rose thirty yards away.

“Ahoy!” he shouted, as he began to paddle and tread water. “Hallo, Leslie, ready for a bathe? Come out! Water’s beautiful. Swim you back to the harbour.”

There was a long-drawn breath in the boat which sounded like a groan, as the terrible mental pressure was removed, and the young man began to swim easily and slowly towards his friends.

“Mind she doesn’t get on another rock, Leslie,” he cried.

“Here, catch hold of this,” cried Pradelle, whose face was ashy, and he held out the boat-hook as far as he could reach.

“Thank ye,” said Harry mockingly, and twenty yards away. “Little farther, please. What a lovely day for a swim!”

“Harry, pray come into the boat,” cried Louise excitedly.

“What for? Mind the porpoise.”

He gave a few sharp blows on the water with his hands, raising himself up and turning right over, dived, his legs just appearing above the surface, and then there was an eddy where he had gone down.

“Don’t be frightened,” whispered Madelaine, whose voice sounded a little husky.

“Here we are again!” cried Harry, reappearing close to the boat and spluttering the water from his lips, as with all the gaiety of a boy he looked mirthfully at the occupants of the boat. “Any orders for pearls, ladies?”

“Don’t be foolish, Harry,” cried Louise, as he swam close to them.

“Not going to be. I say, Leslie, take the boat-hook away from that fellow, or he’ll be making a hole in the bottom of the boat.”

As he spoke, he laid a hand upon the gunwale and looked merrily from one to the other.

“Don’t touch me, girls. I’m rather damp,” he said. “I say, what a capital bathing dress flannels make!”

“Shall I help you in?” said Leslie.

“No, thank ye, I’m all right. As I am in, I may as well have a swim.”

“No, no, Harry, don’t be foolish,” cried Louise.

“There, you’d better hitch a rope round me, and tow me behind, or I shall swamp the boat.”

“Harry! what are you going to do?” cried Madelaine, as he looked his hold of the gunwale, and began to swim away.

“Wait a bit and you’ll see,” he cried. “Leslie, you take care of the boat. I shan’t be long.”

“But, Harry – ”

“All right, I tell you.”

“Where are you going?”

“In here,” he shouted back, and he swam straight to the low opening at the foot of the massive granite cliff, paddled a little at the mouth till the efflux of water was over, and then as a fresh wave came, he took a few strokes, gave a shout, and to the horror of the two girls seemed to be sucked right into the opening.

As he disappeared, he gave another shout, a hollow strange echoing “Good-bye,” and a few moments after there was a run back of the water and a hollow roar, and it needed very little exercise of the imagination to picture the rugged opening as the mouth of some marine monster into which the young man had passed.