Eric; Or, Little by LittleFarrar, F. W. (Frederic William)
General
Eric; Or, Little by Little
Farrar, F. W. (Frederic William)
Schools -- Fiction
Montagu and Dr. Rowlands again started, and with difficulty made their
way through the storm to the shore opposite the Stack. Here they raised
the lantern and shouted; but the wind was now screaming with such
violence that they were not sure that they heard any answering shout.
Their eyes, accustomed to the darkness, could just make out the huge
black outline of the Stack rising from the yeast of boiling waves, and
enveloped every moment in blinding sheets of spray. On the top of it
Montagu half thought that he saw something, but he was not sure.
“Thank God, there is yet hope,” said the Doctor, with difficulty making
his young companion catch his words amid the uproar of the elements; “if
they can but keep warm in their wet clothes, we may perhaps rescue them
before morning.”
Again he shouted to cheer them with his strong voice, and Montagu joined
his clear ringing tones to the shout. This time they fancied that in one
of the pauses of the wind they heard a faint cheer returned, was sound
more welcome, and as they paced up and down they shouted at intervals,
and held up the lantern, to show the boys that friends and help
were near.
Eric heard them. When Montagu left, he had carried Russell to the
highest point of the rock, and there, with gentle hands and soothing
words, made him as comfortable as he could. He wrapped him in every
piece of dry clothing he could find, and held him in his arms, heedless
of the blood which covered him. Very faintly Russell thanked him, and
pressed his hand; but he moaned in pain continually, and at last
fainted away.
Meanwhile the wind rose higher, and the tide gained on the rocks, and
the sacred darkness came down. At first Eric could think of nothing but
storm and sea. Cold, and cruel, and remorseless, the sea beat up,
drenching them to the skin continually with, its clammy spray; and the
storm shrieked round them pitilessly, and flung about the wet hair on
Eric’s bare head, and forced him to plant himself firmly, lest the rage
of the gusts should hurl them from their narrow resting-place. The
darkness made everything more fearful, for his eyes could distinguish
nothing but the gulfs of black water glistening here and there with
hissing foam, and he shuddered as his ears caught the unearthly noises
that came to him in the mingled scream of weltering tempest and plangent
wave. It was fearful to be isolated on the black rent rock, and see the
waves gaining on them higher, higher, higher, every moment and he was in
ceaseless terror lest they should be swept away by the violence of the
breakers. “At least,” thought he, as he looked down and saw that the
ledge on which they had been standing had long been covered with deep
and agitated waves, “at least I have saved Edwin’s life.” And he bravely
made up his mind to keep up heart and hope, and weather the comfortless
night with Russell in his arms.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account