In The Flashlight

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 609, 11 March 1929, Page 5

In The Flashlight

By j

Bernard Rowthorne

CHAPTER 11. “We're up against it, Melford, but we've got to save ourselves and Margaret. Better run along and tell her to put on warm clothing and oilskins. I'll look out the life-belts. When you’re ready come up to the charthouse.” Mr. Melford staggered away as hastily as the yacht’s plunging permitted. Carston, with eyes In which there was a flicker of contempt, watched him go; then gave a short laugh. He had not yet met the situation that could shake his hard soul with fear.

Five minutes later John Carston was on the bridge, by the side of the yacht’s captain, looking out across the heaving waste. A stormy moon lit the wild scene, and as the driving clouds cleared for a moment, Carston glimpsed land and two high Bens, shining like silver under the moonlight. “Where are we?” he shouted.

j The offleer waved a hand. "Islay and Jura over there,” bellowed the sailor, in his ear. “Those hills are the Paps of Jura. The tow of Corrievrechan will have us in ten minutes, unless ——” He broke off sharply. The yacht seemed to kick upwards, throwing him back so that only' a hasty clutch at the rail saved him. Again and again the vessel jerked, and Carston felt it quiver many times, as if someone had struck it with giant blows, then she gave a jolt forward, and the seas swirled over the bows. “What ” “We’ve scraped across a ridge,” ! shouted the officer. "The bottom will I have gone! It's God help us now! We can try the boats, but I’d as soon try ! a straw. Come along, sir. There’s nothing to be done up there !” The sailor led the way down from | the bridge, and as they reached the j deck Carston saw Melford and Mar- ; caret standing in the lighted chart ! house. “Tell me when you’re ready. Mar- ; ler,” he shouted. “I'm going to my ; guests." “Right, sir.” k He turned into the chart house, just

Author of “The Jewels of Sin,” “The Shadow of the Yamen,” Etc., Etc.

as a giant sea crashed against its walls, and he gave one swift glance at Melford and his daughter before he spoke. The man was dithering with fear; but while the girl’s face was very white, her eyes were steady, and Carston knew that she was fronting the peril ahead with a serene courage.

“What ” began Melford In a voice that was almost a scream. Carston interrupted him. “It’s a case of the boats,” he said, with an impatient note in his voice. “We scraped a ridge of rocks just now, and I fancy we’re already settling down. Even if we aren’t, we’re driving straight for the Sound of Jura and the Corrievrechan Race, and there isn’t a dog’s chance for us there. Wait here, and I’ll get the lifebelts.” “The death-belts you mean,” shrieked Melford, his face working. “They may be that,” answered Carston, with a jerky laugh. “But pull yourself together, man. You’ve Margaret to think of.” But Mr. Melford was beyond thought or care of anyone else. When Carston returned with the lifebells he was huddled in a chair, a mere lump of fear, while the girl’s hand was upon

his shoulder, aud she was evidently trying to comfort him. “Miss Margaret, let me help you.”

Carston was tremendously calm, though better than either of his two guests he understood the peril that fronted them. His face gave no indication of his emotions if he had any; but in his eyes there was a dancing light that awakened a vague wonder in the girl as her gaze met his. In any other moment it would have caused her deep embarrassment and even as it was she looked hastily away. He assisted her to put on the clumsy belt with hands that were almost caressing in thentouch; and then turned and helped her father. When that was done he stood peering through the spray-dashed windows until the girl spoke. “Mr. Carston, there is another belt. You seem to be forgetting your ” “By Jove, yes!” he said, with a short laugh, and put on the belt, which the girl helped him to buckle, and scarcely was the thing done when Captain Marler appeared. “Just going to lower the boat, sir.” “Right! We’re ready, Marler.”

They moved out of the chart room together, and as they did so a terrific gust hurtling over from Islay and Jura almost knocked Margaret from her feet. Carston threw an arm round her to steady her, and kept it there as they proceeded with difficulty to where the yacht’s craw stood waiting t.o launch one of the lifeboats that the yacht carried. When they reached the place, ihe captain spoke again. “Miss Melford and her father in the first boat. I’ve given it a full complement.” “No! No! Not the first,” shrieked Mr. Melford. “I won’t go in the first.” The captain took no notice of him, but addressed himself to Carston. “Then perhaps you’ll go, sir? Somebody should go with Miss Melford if we get the boat away.” “Yes,” said Carston gruffly. “I’ll go”. The captain turned to the waiting men. "Lower away.” The boat reached the sea safely, and was tossed like a cork while the men strove to fend it from the yacht’s side. “Now, sir! You ”

Carston waited his moment and made the long jump into the boat, and half a minute later stood to catch the girl. “Now,” cried the captain, and on the moment Margaret jumped. As she launched herself there was a prayer on her lips. If she missed the boat she knew she was lost beyond hope, for in that boiling sea no one could possibly, survive. As she shot

downwards there was the grip of real fear on her heart, but the next moment she was in the clutch of Carston’s strong arms, and five seconds later was deposited in the stern sheets. She had not recovered her breath when she looked up toward the yacht’s deck. There she glimpsed two or three men around her father, apparently urging him to make the leap. That they failed to do so was manifest a moment later when an order was bellowed through a megaphone and the boat began to bear away. As they swept from the lee of the yacht’s side, the seas seemed mountainous, and the boat no more than a feather in some vast maelstrom. For the moment the moon was hidden behind stormy clouds, and the crew, bending desperately at the oars, were no more than so many shadows pulsating to and fro. Only one face was visible at her side. In the subdued light it seemed to her hard and set, with the eyes fixed, staring straight ahead; but as for three seconds the moon broke clear, he turned and met her scrutiny. “Afraid?” he shouted in her ear.

The shrieking wind and the clamour of the sea made the shout no more than a whisper in her ears; and she did not attempt to answer it with words; nor did she attempt to disguise her real feeling. She gave a slight nod of her head, and then crouched quickly as a wave lopped over the side, sweeping across the stern. In that moment she felt the sudden grip of his arm, and realised for the first time that it was still about her. There was a surge of resentment within her as the realisation came to her. There was no need for the familiarity which the passage along the yacht’s deck had almost necessitated, no reason why—without finishing the thought she made a movement as if to free herself. “No!” he shouted protestingly in her ear. “Keep still. We may be out of this in a trice.” The girl subsided, though in spite of the causes for cold fear that were

all about lier, mere was a 11 ot feel- 1 ing at her heart. The moon had hid- 1 den itself again, but the giant seas i showed white-capped all around, and 1 every moment it seemed that the frail < craft must be swamped. Now it was swept upward on the swell of a wave, now it whirled toward the trough as : if to engulf itself finally and for ever, i but still kept way in a manner that I was marvellous. So for perhaps a quarter of an hour, until half-blinded : and stinging with the salt spray, she closed her eyes lightly to shut out the terrific scene. A second later, as it seemed, the boat crashed and tilted, and a despairing scream sounded faintly above the roar of the storm. She opened her eyes to see a great wall of water descending upon her, and felt Carston’s arms tighten sharply round her waist. The next moment the liquid wall engulfed her, and she passed gaspingly into utterdarkness. She revived to find herself lying on a firm beach of wet sand. The sound of the storm was like a distant echo in her ears, and in the stormy moonlight she saw that the beach was that of a narrow inlet, on either side of which stood bare, gaunt cliffs, at the foot of which were great tumbled rocks. Without moving, she thought shudderingly to herself that the merciless sea in some freakish caprice had swept her to this inlet beyond the force of the storm, and then tossed her ashore in utter carelessness. A second later, however she became aware that she was not alone. Standing a couple of yards away was John Carston, his tall figure outlined against the wet cliffs, which glistened in the moonlight. The moonshine lit his brutal face, and she saw that one brow was cut and bleeding; but the fact seemed to trouble him not at! I all. There was an exultant look on j

his strong features, an odd light in his eyes; and even as she glimpsed him, a laugh of triumph broke from his lips, and he shook a fist at the outer sea foaming at the inlet. “Bilked you, by ” The oath startled her. Her spirit shook at the man’s triumphant defiance of the ruthless powers about him; then suddenly, with scarcely a warning, she slid back into the darkness of unconsciousness. After his exulant defiance of the storm, John Carston looked down at the girl whose life he had saved, when salvation had seemed to be humanly impossible. “I must find shelter for her, somewhere,” he muttered. “But where?” He looked round. Immediately behind him, the cliffs gleaming in the moonlight, as a single glance revealed, were unscaleable, even to an unburdened man. Further up the inlet they seemed to be higher, and as the foot j of them was in shadow it seemed j unwise to explore. The only hope ; lay in finding some break in the cliffs lit by the moonlight; and with that in view he unbuckled the life-belts, and, casting them away, picked up the unconscious girl and began to walk along the coast. He had not been walking five minutes when he came upon a gap, where a rutted track showed quite plainly. Guessing that the track was made by the carts used by the gatherers of sea-weed, and would lead him to some homestead, he turned and began to follow it. He had ascended about half-way. when he felt the girl move in his arms, and looking down he saw her ! eyes open. “Better lie still. Miss Margaret,” he ‘ | said. “You’re quite safe; but you’re j in no condition for walking. I ex- I i pect to tumble on a house presently." '

His tone was masterful, and the girl subsided, lying quite still in his arms till they reached the rough ground at the head of the gap. As Carston, with the girl in his arms, emerged, clouds drove over the moon, and he was met by a buffet of wind that almost drove him backward. He bent his head to it, and with the weight of the gale against him, forged slowly ahead, following the rutted road. Again Margaret moved, and then spoke. "Set me down, Mr. Carston. I am well able to walk.” “Not in this wind. Miss Margaret.** “But I insist,” she cried. “Oh, very well, then,” he answered brusquely. “Try!” He set her on her feet, and as he did so a gust of wind caught her, and feeling that she was being carried away by it, she clutched at him desperately. The man flung both arms about her, and both of them staggered backwards a. | few yards, before recovering equilibrium. (To he continued.)