Original Penny Readings: A Series of Short SketchesFenn, George Manville
General
Original Penny Readings: A Series of Short Sketches
Fenn, George Manville
Fiction; Short stories
I kept up with him and took quite an interest in his proceedings, for it
soon became apparent that he did not mean to turn back, but to go right
across; and I remember thinking what a tremendous distance it seemed for
so young a swimmer. However, on he went, striking boldly out, and
sending the glittering water bubbling, beading, and sparkling away,
right and left, as he struggled on "like a stout-hearted swimmer, the
spray at his lip--"
On he went, slowly and apparently surely; first a quarter, then a third,
then half the distance; and, being so near the bridge, the balustrade
soon formed a leaning-place for a good many interested spectators; for
it is not every boy who can take so long a swim--the swim across
generally entailing the necessity for return to the warm clothes waiting
upon the bank, in company with that agreeable producer of glow and
reaction called a towel.
It soon, however, became evident that the lad beneath us would not take
the return swim, and I felt the hot blood flush up into my face as the
truth forced itself upon my mind that he was fast growing tired.
Yes, it was soon unmistakable: he was getting tired, and, with his
fatigue, losing nerve; for his strokes began to be taken more and more
rapidly; he made less way; and now he was but little beyond half-way
over, and there were many feet of water beneath him.
I was but a youth then, but I remember well the horror of the moment:
the feeling that a fellow-creature was about to lose his life just
beneath me, and I powerless to save. There were the Royal Humane
Society's boats, but far enough off. Help from the shore was
impossible; and now, above the murmured agitation of the crowd upon the
bridge, came at intervals the poor boy's faint cry--
"Help--help--boat!"
Those were awful moments; and more than one turned hurriedly away. I
could not, though, for my eyes were fixed on the swimmer--nay, struggler
now, as at last, rapidly beating the water and crying wildly for aid, he
slowly went down with his white form visible beneath the clear water,
now agitated and forming concentric rings where he sank.
The cries from the bridge had attracted the notice of one of the
Society's men, and he was now rowing up fast; but it was plain to all
that he must be too late, when from just by where I stood there was a
slight movement and clambering; and then, like an arrow from a bow, with
hands pointed above his head, down with a mighty rush right into the
spray-splashing water, went a figure accompanied by a ringing cheer from
those around.
Up rose the water, and then closed like a boiling cauldron above the
gallant swimmer's head. Then followed moments of intense excitement, as
nothing but agitated water was visible till the daring one's head rose
above the surface for an instant, when he shook the water from his face,
dived again, and in a few seconds rose to the surface, with the drowning
boy clinging to him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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