Chapter 31

JIM'S ENLIGHTENMENT

Jim waited for some time behind a bowlder by the salt-water pond, and then shot a duck. The report echoed among the belts of fog and after the noise died away the roar of the advancing tide was ominously loud, but Jim thought he heard something else. He listened, and in a few moments a cry came faintly across the sands. Somebody was calling for help, and Jim began to run. He might have to go some distance and his punt would soon float.

After a few minutes he plunged into a belt of mist. The sand was soft and his waders and heavy gun embarrassed him, but he heard the call again and thought he knew the voice. He labored on, breathing hard, until by and by the tog melted and he saw two figures not far off.

"Jake!" he shouted. "Is it you and Carrie?"

Jake answered, and Jim was conscious of a relief that shook him when the others came up. Carrie was splashed by mud and breathless with haste.

"What are you doing on the sands?" he asked.

"Car broke down; we tried to get across," Jake replied. "Saw the Langrigg hill when we started and then the fog came on. They told us to head for some stake-nets, but we couldn't find them. Then we met the water and reckoned we were lost. Is your punt about?"

"She is not far off," said Jim, who turned to Carrie. "We must hustle. Can you run?"

Carrie said she would try and they set off, but when they had gone a few hundred yards a wave of thick fog rolled up, blotting out the moonlight.

"This is awkward," Jim gasped, taking Carrie's arm and helping her on. "Still, if we keep going, we'll soon strike the gutter."

The roar of the surf gave him some guidance, but sound is puzzling in a fog; there was very little wind, and he could not see the moon. He knew the tide was now running up the channel and hoped he was heading the right way. Shortly afterwards a dull report rolled across the sands.

"A ten-bore!" he exclaimed. "Mordaunt uses a twelve. I expect Dick's shooting, and since the water's rising, he's on the shore flat. Where do you locate the shot?"

"A little to the left," said Jake.

They swerved and presently heard the gun again.

"That's for us," gasped Jim. "Dick has found the punt; I reckon she's afloat."

"Let me go, Jim," said Carrie. "Hurry on and get the punt."

Jim pressed her arm and urged her forward. "I'm going to stick to you until you're safe on board."

"Water!" shouted Jake, from a few yards in front; and something glimmered in the fog, which was getting thin again.

They could see for a short distance, but when they stopped at the edge of the channel the punt was not about. She was, however, painted an inconspicuous gray, and Jim thought she was not far off. While he hesitated, wondering which way to turn, a heavy report came out of the melting fog.

"Hallo!" Jake shouted. "Where's our punt?"

"On your side," somebody answered. "Saw her five minutes since and then the water drove me back."

The voice came from their left and after running a short distance they stopped. A low, indistinct object floated about thirty yards off, and Jim, dropping Carrie's arm, stood for a moment with his hands clenched. The wave-lined sand was level, and this meant much, because the bank of the gutter was steep. The tide had filled the hollow and he could not see across. He was not disturbed about the depth, but the current rippled across the sand, carrying along clumps of weed and flakes of foam that showed how fast it went.

"Give me your knife," he said to Jake, as he pulled off his oilskin. "I've got to swim. You must stay with Carrie; I swim better."

He slit the waders and tore them off with his canvas shoes; then he ran along the sand, heading up stream, and when he judged he had gone far enough plunged in. After he had taken a few steps the water frothed about his waist, and next moment swept him off his feet. He swam savagely, swinging his left arm out and steering obliquely against the current that carried him along. The water was horribly cold and cut his breathing and cramped his muscles, but if he missed the punt he might be swept some distance up the channel before he could land. He must not miss the punt, because he would be too exhausted to try again and did not think Jake could reach her.

After a minute or two he saw the punt; she was swinging about in the rush of tide and seemed to forge towards him. A rippling line marked her painter. He stopped swimming and let himself drift. He must not be carried past; and presently he made a quick stroke and felt a triumphant thrill when his numbed fingers clutched the craft's low side. For all that, he had not conquered yet. He was tired, and it is hard to get on board a floating punt.

The current swept his legs under the boat, and when he tried to lift himself she rolled down with his weight and threatened to capsize. But he must not be beaten. He was fighting for Carrie's life, and remembering this gave him extra strength. Sliding his hands along the side of the punt, he let the current take him aft, and then with a desperate effort lifted the upper of his body above the pointed stern. Next moment, he fell forward on the deck and crawled to the well. He had won. He tried to shout, but could not. His heart beat like a hammer and he choked.

Pulling himself together, he seized the line at the bow, and in a few moments the anchor was on board and he picked up the pole. The punt drifted fast up channel while he headed for the bank, but he saw Jake running along the sand and presently threw the light anchor as far as he could. Jake caught the line and Jim, springing overboard, ran through the water and picked up Carrie.

He felt her tremble and kissed her as she put her arms round his neck. It did not matter it Jake saw or not. After putting her on board he jumped in and grasped the pole.

"Shove us off," he said to Jake. "I'll come back for you."

They lost the bank in the fog, and soon the pole did not touch bottom and Jim used the paddle. After a few minutes, he saw an indistinct figure, apparently in the water; and then his paddle struck sand. Jumping over, he held out his arms and did not put Carrie down until he had carried her some distance from the channel. He had afterwards a hazy notion that he kissed her again. When he turned back Dick was pushing off the punt.

"I'll bring Jake; you have had enough," he said.

Jim shoved him back. "It's my job; he's my partner. Look after Carrie. Start for the marsh."

He got on board and when the punt vanished in the fog Dick turned to Carrie. "They may be ten minutes; the tide's running fast. You are wet and perhaps we had better get off."

"No," said Carrie. "I won't move until they're safe across."

Dick gave her a quick glance. She looked resolute; her voice had a strange exultant note. He was anxious to start, since he thought they might find some water in a gutter between them and land, but it was obvious that Carrie could not be persuaded. Presently the punt came across and the others got out.

"Have you been here long?" Jim asked when he had driven the anchor into the sand.

"No," said Dick. "I fired the gun as soon as I arrived. The punt was on your side, I imagined you were about, and I can't swim much. I'd seen the punt before. I went to meet Jake and Carrie, but met the water. No doubt, they crossed the channel that stopped me, farther up."

Jim nodded. "Looks like that. It was a big relief when we heard you shoot. But I'm puzzled: the punt was some distance from the bank and the anchor was covered. I thought I'd carried it far enough back."

"Then you didn't move her after you pulled her up?"

"Certainly not," Jim rejoined, with some surprise. "If I'd wanted her to float, I wouldn't have bothered to drag her up over the steep mud."

"Oh, well, we must get off," said Dick, who did not want to talk about the punt. "The tide's running fast across the flats; I think we'll make for the shell ridge."

Although the fog was thick, they reached the marsh, where Dick left them. He was wet and it was some distance to Whitelees, but he would not go to Langrigg and put on dry clothes. When Jim got calm he might feel curious about the punt. Dick was not ready to satisfy his curiosity yet. He was disturbed and wanted to get away.

The others went on, and when they came down to dinner nobody looked much the worse. Jim, however, was quiet and although Carrie talked and sometimes laughed, he imagined her cheerfulness was forced. Jake alone seemed to have a good appetite and Jim was annoyed when Mrs. Winter remarked that he did not eat much. She declared the dinner was pretty good, although it had been served an hour or two late. When it was over, Jim looked at the clock and proposed that they should play cards. He would sooner have gone off to the library by himself, but Jake might speculate about this and so long as they were occupied he need not talk. The others would go to bed soon, and then he could grapple with an awkward situation.

At length, Jake put down his cards. "I can't make it; you have beaten us," he said, and pushed back his chair. "If you want to see the men start to-morrow we had better go to bed."

He brought Mrs. Winter a candle and they left the hall; but Carrie stopped to pick up the cards, and Jim waited. He heard Jake say good night to his mother on the landing, and their steps died away. It was very quiet in the hall, except for the snapping of the fire; and Jim's hand trembled as he struck a match and lighted Carrie's candle. She heard him move and looked up. There was some color in her face, which cut sharply against the dark oak. Jim put the candle on the carved newel-post at the bottom of the stairs.

"I was badly scared when we found the water was round the punt," he said. "In fact, I rather lost my control."

"You were not scared for yourself and were very cool and quick," Carrie replied and forced a smile. "Perhaps some people do lose control when they are strongly moved, but you are not that kind."

Jim gave her a keen glance. It looked as if she meant to persuade him that he had acted normally, but this was ridiculous. Perhaps she meant to hint that his rashness must not be talked about. Coolness was hard, but he was honest and there was something to be said.

"I wonder whether you know I am going to marry Evelyn?" he remarked.

She met his glance. "Yes, Jim; I knew some time since. It doesn't matter that you told nobody. Well, she's beautiful and very charming." She moved, and taking the candle from the post, calmly looked back at him. "Of course, you're going to marry Evelyn! But the others have gone, and I'm tired. Good night."

He let her go, and when she went up the shallow stairs, crossed the floor to the hearth. There was a looking-glass close by and he started as he saw his face. His brows were knitted and his mouth was set. Carrie was clever and while he talked to her he had looked like that! He began to see what she had meant when she said he was, of course, going to marry Evelyn.

He sat down and gazed savagely at the sinking fire. What a fool he had been! Evelyn had moved him to romantic admiration. Her beauty, her high cultivation and refinement had made a strong appeal, but he had not known that they appealed mainly to his intellect, and it counted for much that she was the first Englishwoman of her type he had met. He knew now, and saw he had deceived himself. Enlightenment had come when Carrie ran some risk of being drowned and he had taken her in his arms.

Evelyn was, so to speak, a model of perfection, worthy to be admired, but really out of his reach. In a sense, she left him cold; but Carrie was warm and loving flesh and blood. She had worked with him and cheered him in the lonely North; her small failings had a curious charm. She appealed to all that was human in him; it was ridiculous that he had imagined his love for her was brotherly.

He began to think about their last interview, when he had lighted the candle. She had said little, but she had meant much. His kissing her must be forgotten and he must marry Evelyn. Carrie wanted him to understand that she saw this and was jealous for his honor. If he drew back and broke his faith with Evelyn, she would have nothing to do with him. Moreover, it was unthinkable that he should draw back. He sat still for some time with his hands clenched and then got up abruptly and went out.

The wind the surf had threatened had come and blown back the fog. Its rude buffet braced him, the roar of the sea and wail of the trees that rolled down the slope were soothing. The moon was bright and when he saw the foam glitter in the bay his sense of rebellion began to melt. Carrie was safe; he had saved her and she had shown him his duty. Well, he was going to carry it out, and after all Evelyn's charm was strong. He had been a fool, but only Carrie knew, and Evelyn must not pay. By and by he went back to the house, calmed but not much comforted.

In the meantime, Dick reached Whitelees and did not say much about his adventure. When he had got some food he went to the smoking-room and looked for paper and a pencil. He wanted to refresh his memory of the footsteps about the punt and the marks left by the anchor line. It was important that he should do so, but although he sat for an hour, drawing rough plans of the spot, he was not satisfied. Unluckily, he could not go back to the sands in the morning and study the ground, because he had promised to join some friends in town for a week. All the same, it was some relief to put off the matter and go to bed, but he did not sleep much and felt moody when he got an early breakfast and started for the station.