Chapter XI The Treacherous Shore
It was about seven o’clock when a tap came at Mr. Field’s door.
“Is that you, Burns?” was the response from within. “I am not feeling very well this evening, so I shall not come downstairs to dinner. You can bring me up something on a tray.”
“Very good, sir,” replied the butler, “but I wanted to ask you about master Julius. He has not been home all day, and we don’t know where he’s gone.”
“Not been home all day,” exclaimed Mr. Field, unlocking the door. “Surely with a houseful of servants you might have looked better after the boy than that.”
Burns was relieved to find that his master appeared more like himself than when he had last encountered him, though still strangely perturbed, as if he had recently undergone some severe shock.
“Master Julius never turned up all the morning,” answered Burns, “so we came to the conclusion that you must have met him as you were going down the drive, and taken him on with you to Westmarket. The chauffeur has only now returned with the car, and he says master Julius never accompanied you at all, so we thought it better to come and tell you at once.”
Messengers were sent out to make enquiries whether the lad had been seen by anyone during the day, but neither garden, stables, nor farm could contribute even the slightest clue to his movements.
Mr. Field was standing in the hall making arrangements to send search-parties in other directions, when there was a ring at the bell, and a lady was ushered in. She was dripping wet, and the light veil over her head clung closely round her troubled and agitated face.
“I must apologize for intruding in this manner,” she said, “but I am dreadfully anxious about my little boy. He and your son left me about two o’clock, and I have seen neither of them since. I hoped he might have taken shelter here from the storm, so I just came up to see.”
“It is Mrs. Power, sir, from Sea View Cottage,” explained the butler, in answer to Mr. Field’s mystified look. “I believe master Julius often goes to play with the young gentleman.”
“The impertinent rascal sets all my commands at defiance, it appears,” was the angry reply. “It is directly against my wishes, madam, that Julius has made your acquaintance, and I have not the slightest notion where either of the two lads have gone. Your son is certainly not here, and neither is mine, for that matter.”
“It is a dreadful night for anybody to be out,” said Mrs. Power. “I could scarcely battle against the wind and rain as I came along. The lightning has ceased, but there is a regular hurricane blowing from the sea. Robin would not willingly keep me in suspense, as he knows how disturbed I should be, and I can’t help fearing some accident may have happened to them both.”
All at once Mr. Field’s heart seemed to well up with a sudden rush of fatherly love, such as he had not experienced for years. He had allowed such a thick crust of ambition and avarice to overgrow the softer qualities of his character, that they had been well-nigh extinguished.
“What would all my wealth be without my little lad?” was the thought that flashed across him as Mrs. Power spoke, and an agony of apprehension filled his mind. “We must rouse the place at once,” he said aloud, “and I will turn out all my men. Surely it can’t be long before we discover the runaways.”
The wood was thoroughly searched first, but with no result, and every cottage in the village was applied to, but all in vain.
Suddenly a sickening fear seized Mrs. Power. “Was it possible that they could have gone upon the beach?”
A brawny fisherman shrugged his shoulders hopelessly as he heard her question.
“We’ve thought of that before,” he replied, “but we didn’t like to suggest it to you, m’am. Some of us have been along the top of the cliff already, to see if we could make out anything. They’re beyond help now if they went there, poor little chaps.”
“Let us go to the shore,” said Mrs. Power, but the men shook their heads as they accompanied her upon her fruitless errand.
The long wall of cliff which extended for so many miles towards the south came to an abrupt termination near the hamlet, and a flat extent of coast reached thence to the next headland. A narrow lane at right angles to the sea, and bordered by high hedges, led direct to the beach at the point where the cliff ended. So long as the search-party kept within the comparative shelter of this lane, all went well, but when they emerged from it, they were met by the full strength of the gale.
The rain was over now, though the wind still raged with tempestuous force. A full moon peeped out now and then through the rapidly driving clouds, lighting up the wild expanse of waters which heaved and surged in ceaseless turmoil as far as eye could reach.
“Could the boys have been caught between the cliff and the sea?” gasped Mrs. Power. “Shall we go a little way along the shore in case they may have taken refuge somewhere, and are afraid to move on?”
For answer one of the men pointed silently in the direction she had indicated.
It was enough—no words were needed to prove the impossibility of the task.
The moon gave sufficient light to show up the long dark line, at the foot of which the yellow ribbon of sand was wont to lie. In its place now tumbled a white mass of foaming waves. Here and there great billows, lashed by the wind, would hurl themselves half-way up the steep incline, breaking with thunderous noise upon the rampart which barred their way, and sending up sheets of spray into the air, like the steam from a boiling cauldron.
Mrs. Power covered her face with her hands.
“My boy!” she said. “Oh, my boy!”
Unresisting, she allowed herself to be led back to the silent cottage, where all that long dreary night she sat, a pale and broken-hearted watcher, waiting with dread for the only tidings which it seemed possible could reach her now.
To understand what had happened to the boys, we must follow Julius as he ran off to the wood on the morning of that long day. To do him justice he had really meant to be back in time to go with his father in the car; but an hour is short in the days of youth, and the time went all too rapidly.
He had just passed the lodge gates on his return when he heard the motor approaching, and quick as thought he had hidden himself behind the laurels at the entrance of the drive. His heart beat as he meditated on the punishment which doubtless awaited him for his disobedience, but a reckless feeling soon intervened. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” He knew his father was not to return till dusk, for he had heard him tell the butler so, therefore he might as well have a jolly day before the reckoning came.
“I’ll go back to Robin,” he said, “and see if I can’t do something specially nice, as I needn’t be home for ages.”
It was with rather forced merriment, however, that he joined in the games, for an uncomfortable feeling would obtrude itself even in the most exciting moments, that something was hanging over him which sooner or later must be faced.
Mrs. Power had asked him to stay for lunch, hearing that his father was away for the day, and not knowing of the interdict which had been laid upon the boy.
“Let us go for a walk, Robin,” said Julius afterwards, the restless mood increasing as the day wore on. “The tide is coming in strong, and I shouldn’t wonder if we found some buckles and things washed up on the beach. You know the fishermen pick up lots of treasures along the shore.”
“Yes,” answered Robin, “it is just like a fairy tale to hear of that ancient city which once stood where the ocean now rolls. Old Timothy has been telling me all about it—how there were churches, and streets, and battlements there in the days of old, but the waves gradually ate away the cliff, just as they are doing now, until one after another the buildings fell into the sea, and the whole town was buried beneath the water.”
“I know a man who got quite a number of things which had been washed up,” remarked Julius, “seals, with people’s names on them, and rings, and dear little bronze brooches, besides crowds of coins. Couldn’t we go and have a hunt now?”
“I simply ache to find something,” said Robin, “even if it is only an old pin, but I’m not sure whether mother would like me to go without her, as it is rather a dangerous beach when the tide is coming in.”
“We’re not babies,” answered Julius, “surely we can keep a look-out so as to get back in plenty of time. Besides, we needn’t go far. The man told me that the best place to find the things is just under the ruined church, and it won’t take us ten minutes to walk there.”
“Well, if we only go a very little way,” said Robin, “and come back when the waves get at all near the cliff, I don’t think there can be any harm. Mother has never forbidden me to go, and I should like awfully to find a brooch for her to wear.”
Did no friendly eye watch the two young figures as they wandered further and further along the treacherous shore? Time and tide were forgotten in the excitement of searching for the spoil. When at length the gloom of the coming storm caused them to look up, to their distress, they saw that the white line of breakers had almost closed the pathway of their return.
“Run, Julius,” said Robin. “We may just do it, but the wind seems to be driving the waves in fast, and there is not a minute to lose.”
Their feet sank in the loose pebbles and sand! as they hurried along, impeding their progress so that the inflowing tide gained upon them every moment.
“I didn’t know we had come so far,” panted Julius. “I feel as if my legs were made of lead. I don’t think I can run any more.”
They glanced up at the cliff, hoping against hope that some way might reveal itself by which they could scramble up its face, out of the danger zone below, but the sheer and crumbling surface offered no foothold.
By this time some of the foremost waves were sweeping up in long cruel rushes right across their track. It was only by waiting till they sank back again and then making a dash before another came up, that the boys were able to get on at all. Even then they were overtaken again and again by the relentless waters, and had to wade as best they could through the surf, the strong receding current threatening to carry them off their feet into the sea.
To add to their terror, the storm which had surprised Mr. Field, now burst above their heads, and the crash of thunder drowned even the roar of the breakers upon the beach. It suddenly grew so dark that they were unable to distinguish anything more than a few yards away, and the rain coming down in torrents soon completed the drenching which the waves had begun.
Just as they were about to give up in despair, Robin caught sight of a feeble light glimmering upon the cliff above.
“I do believe it is Timothy’s cottage,” he exclaimed, “and if so, we must be quite near the stair. Yes, here it is, Julius, I am holding the railing in my hand.”
In another moment two woebegone little objects were standing before the old man’s fire, too exhausted and miserable even to explain what had brought them there in such a plight.