The Story of the White-Rock Cove Part 9

Another moment, and we were in sight of the Cove. My heart was beating violently, and I felt the crimson flush mount suddenly to my face, and then leave it again; but no one else noticed it, and as yet I could not see to the harbour-bar, so as to know whether the s.h.i.+p were safe or not.

The little creek in which it had been left was, however, full in view, and Aleck instantly observed that his new treasure was not there.

But there was an entire absence of uneasiness in his tone, as he quietly remarked,--

"I suppose you put it into the boat-house lest it should be blown about whilst we were away;" and without waiting for an answer he placed the rolled-up tail of the kite in my hand, and ran forwards to look into the boat-house for it.

It was in vain, however, that he searched first my miniature boat-house, and then every nook and corner of the real one.

"It's not there," he said. "I thought you must have put it away."

"I never said so," I answered; and then a bright thought coming to me, as to what would be an impregnable position to take up in all future inquiry, I boldly added, "I never touched it after you went away."

"Where can it be, then?" said Aleck; and yet, though it was clearly a hopeless task, we once again looked carefully for the missing treasure in both boat-houses. There was the "Fair Alice," my own beautiful little vessel, that had seemed the most perfect thing of its kind, until the arrival of the new one; but the other was nowhere to be found.

"Tell you what, Master Gordon," said old George, "the wind's been uncommon s.h.i.+fting and fanciful this morning, and we left her with sails set; depend upon it, sir, that she's been drifting out with the tide a bit, and the wind so off sh.o.r.e, as it is now, she'd be up towards the mouth of the Cove. We ought to have thought of the wind and the change of the tide; it will be well if she's not out to sea."

"Oh, no fear of that!" exclaimed Aleck, joyfully, "because I myself put the harbour-bar across this morning when I sailed her first;" and so saying, he bounded off along the rocks towards the mouth of the Cove, the rest of us following almost as fast.

One hasty glance and I knew that what I had expected had taken place; the ring which tightened the rope across, so as to const.i.tute a barrier, was now under water--the rope, it must be understood, being arranged to lie along the bottom when not specially adjusted--the channel out to sea was perfectly unimpeded, and there was no trace of the little vessel which, an hour and a half before, had been sailing so merrily upon the water.

"O George!" exclaimed Aleck, "see the rope is down; it must have gone out to sea; it _can't_ be gone!"

But Aleck's face of sad conviction belied his words.

"It can't be gone!" he repeated; and yet the tears of disappointment were forcing themselves into his eyes, though he battled up bravely against his trouble, and tried to believe still that there was some mistake.

Then we betook ourselves to searching in every nook and corner of the Cove, exploring impossible places amongst the rocks, and once again returning to look through the boat-house; I, hypocritically, as active as others, lest there should be any suspicion raised.

"Master Willie," said Groves at last, as if a bright thought had struck him, "I know what it must be, sir. You're up to a prank sometimes--in fact, rather often--and you've hidden away the yacht, for there's been no one else in the Cove but you; though where you can have put it I'm puzzled to say, seeing there's not a place fit to hide a walnut-sh.e.l.l I haven't looked in, not to say a schooner yacht drawing half a foot of water."

All faces looked relieved by the idea--the three other faces I mean. But as its tendency was to fasten a certain measure of responsibility upon myself, I thought it better to become indignant.

"I don't know why you say I must have done it," I answered hastily. "I never touched the boat; what should I touch it for, it wasn't mine; you didn't make it for me. I told Aleck I hadn't touched it."

"Master Willie, Master Willie," expostulated Groves, "don't be angry; I only thought you might have been up to a bit of fun, and I was mistaken."

"Then, George--O George!" exclaimed my cousin, grasping him by the arm, "she _must_ have gone out to sea;" and he tried hard to gulp down his feelings; "you know the harbour-bar is down."

"And I should like to know how it came to be down," said George, severely. A new idea evidently pa.s.sed all in a moment through my cousin's mind. With a fiery flas.h.i.+ng in his eyes that I had never seen in him before, he turned suddenly upon me.

"You naughty, wicked boy," he said.

"You didn't touch the boat you say; but you didn't like my having it; you didn't like its being mine, because it was better than yours, and had two masts; and so you let down the bar, and--and she's got out to sea and is lost!" And so saying he burst into a pa.s.sionate fit of tears.

It is difficult to say which of us was the most surprised by this unlooked-for accusation of Aleck's. I had never seen my cousin in such a temper before, but was far too conscious of the wrong part I had acted to be able at once to answer with a protest of innocence. So that in the very short s.p.a.ce of time which was occupied by George telling Aleck the case was not hopeless, and the vessel might be found yet, and that he'd be sorry for the wrong words he had said to me, a rapid controversy pa.s.sed silently between me and my conscience somewhat in this wise:--

_Conscience._--"You know that what he said is true about your not liking his having the schooner, and you know you wanted it to get lost."

_Answer._--"But I can say with perfect truth that I did not touch it _or the rope_."

_Conscience._--"You know if you had called off Frisk the schooner would not have been lost." _Answer._--"But I never _saw_ Frisk unloose the ring; and I can say, with truth, that until just now I did not _know_ that it was not safe."

_Conscience._--"That will be a lie all the same. You have often been told that what makes a lie is the intention to deceive, and not the words only." _Answer._--"What's the use of telling now that I really am very sorry it has happened. It's not any good confessing to Aleck that I might have prevented it. After all, it was Frisk who did it, and I did not even see Frisk do it. And Aleck's in such a towering pa.s.sion; I could never face him and have him know the whole."

_Conscience_, more feebly.--"That's bad reasoning; you ought simply to find out what is right, and do it." _Answer._--"And now that I come to think of it, it's a great shame that Aleck should fly out so at me, and I won't stand it." And at this point the voice of conscience became perfectly silenced, and, turning defiantly to my cousin, I exclaimed,--

"I don't know what you mean, Aleck, by accusing me of it; I never touched the rope, and I never touched the boat; I'm quite certain that I did not, and it's a lie of yours to say that I did."

"O Master Willie, Master Aleck," gasped old George, in consternation.

"Young gentlemen, these words are not fit to come from such as you; what would your parents say?"

But our brows lowered angrily, and we made no response; whilst George continued, abandoning in his dismay the usual form of address, and speaking as from age to youth, "My boys, children, have you not been taught of Him 'who, when He was reviled, reviled not again; when He suffered, He threatened not.' Christian boys should try to be like their Master, and such words as pa.s.sed between you should never be heard amongst them. You've forgotten yourselves, young gentlemen, and you'll be very sorry soon for what you have said to each other. Master Aleck, you're wrong, sir, to say that Master Willie did it when he denies it.

I've known Master Willie since he was born, and he speaks the truth.

He's told me with the greatest of honestness when he's done things which was wrong, and no one else knowed of; as, for instance, when he ate the cherries and swallowed the stones, and when he got the cat's tail all over pitch--I can remember a score of things he's told me of, quite frank and open, and I'm sure he's spoken the truth now."

I felt somewhat self-condemned whilst George thus enumerated the instances of my candour in simple unconsciousness of the fact that confessions of sc.r.a.pes were generally received by him with such indulgence that it required the smallest possible amount of moral courage to make them.

"Shake hands, young gentlemen," he added, after another pause, "and be friends, and let us all do what we can to find the schooner--she's cost me many an hour's work."

And at this moment, for the first time, it flashed upon me painfully how great the disappointment was to George as well as to Aleck, and I was sorry, more sorry than I had hitherto felt.

The pair of small chubby hands that met in the old sailor's rugged palm were unused to so ceremonious a meeting, and their owners were somewhat solemnized at being treated like grown-up gentlemen. But a fierce look of suspicion still lingered in Aleck's face, and I doubt not a glow of anger and excitement in mine, which showed that Groves's peacemaking had not been thoroughly effectual--we _felt_ still as we had _spoken_ before.

CHAPTER VII.

THE MISSING s.h.i.+P.

In the meantime Ralph had been busy getting all the things ready for our sail; so we took our places in the boat, and stood out to sea. The wind being steadily off sh.o.r.e, our progress was rapid; we bounded lightly over the water, and had soon placed some distance between us and the Cove.

George sat at the helm, keeping a keen look out in every direction; whilst Aleck, Ralph, and I, strained our eyes in fruitless efforts to discover the tiny white sail we were longing to see.

The glorious suns.h.i.+ne dancing and sparkling on the water seemed to mock the gloomy heavy-heartedness that was darkening the hours of our long antic.i.p.ated holiday. Aleck and I were almost entirely silent. When we spoke, it was to Ralph, or George, as convenient third parties; not a word would we say to each other.

Old George did his best, with clumsy kindness, to make lively remarks from time to time; but the responsive laugh was wanting; and, after experiencing two or three signal failures, he struck his colours and yielded to the spell that had fallen upon us.

The whole Braycombe coast for many miles is deeply indented with creeks and coves, and diversified with outstanding rocks and promontories, about the most picturesque and the most dangerous part of our southern sh.o.r.es. Old George decided that probably the object of our search had been driven in by the fitful wind amongst some of the near rocks and creeks, and might, perhaps, be recovered by a careful search. So, warily steered by our experienced sailor, we set ourselves to the work, having scanned, to the best of our ability, the open sea beyond with a pocket telescope.

What with the tackings frequently necessary, and the taking down sail in one place, and then putting it up in another, the time pa.s.sed on rapidly; and we were quite surprised, as we finished the exploration of one of the little inlets, to hear Groves remark that it was "nigh upon two o'clock, and that we'd all be the better of a little food." For the first time in our lives we had forgotten to be hungry.

It was decided that we should spread the luncheon on a broad flat stone, near which our boat was now curtseying listlessly on the water, and take our repast ash.o.r.e. George and Ralph lifted out the hamper, and spread the cloth, and arranged the various good things we found inside.

"And don't let us forget," said old George, reverently, lifting his hat, "the thanks we owe to our Father, which art in heaven, for His bounties provided for us."

The train of thought thus started seemed to go on in his mind, after we had set to the serious business of luncheon. "You see, young gentlemen,"

he presently continued, "we're to remember that all the good things He sends us come from the same hand that sends us our disappointments too; and though we don't always see it, it's true that the troubles and trials are amongst the _good_ things. Many a time I've kept a-thinking of that verse which says, 'He that spared not His only-begotten Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not, with Him, also freely give us all things'--the _all things_ there meaning, you see, the troubles and losses as much as the gains, and successes, and pleasures.

And I think it's the same with children as with grown people; _their_ trials, which are small to grown-up people, are great to _them_, and they don't come by chance. And, when we are able to feel this way, young gentlemen, it's easier to bear up when the wind seems dead against you, and to say, when things go wrong, and there's a deal of beating about, and a s.h.i.+pping of heavy seas, as you're taught to say in the Lord's prayer, 'Thy will be done.'"