The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and FourStrang, Herbert
History
The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and Four
Strang, Herbert
Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Juvenile fiction; Smugglers -- Juvenile fiction
But Sam’s protest was unheeded and almost unheard. Dick was clambering
down the steep face of the cliff. The fisher-lads could not swim;
scarcely a man in Polkerran was more skilled than they; and it was plain
that unless assistance came to them at once they must be drowned, for
the boat, pulling out against wind and wave, could not reach them in
time.
Thirty feet above the sea, and almost exactly over the spot where the
boat had capsized, there was a narrow ledge. As a swimmer Dick was
self-taught. He usually plunged into the sea from a rock a few feet
above the surface; the dive he now prepared to take was at least five
times as great as he had ever attempted before. Fortunately the fairway
was clear of rocks, although the waves beat roughly against the almost
perpendicular cliff. A momentary hesitation, then Dick dived off. He
took the water cleanly, but, somewhat dazed by the violence of the
shock, he went far deeper than a practised diver would have done. To
himself, as to Sam, gazing at him horror-stricken from above, it seemed
a terribly long time before he shot up to the surface.
But he emerged at last. Shaking the water from his eyes, he looked
round for signs of the fisher-lads. Within twelve yards of him he saw
the boat, bottom upwards, and a boy clinging to the rudder. A gust of
wind whipped the spindrift into Dick’s eyes; for some moments he could
see nothing more. But then, five or six yards away, between the boat and
the cliff, he caught sight of an arm rising from the sea, only to
disappear instantly. He struck out for the spot. In a few seconds a
dark mass surged up almost beside him. Another stroke or two enabled
him to get a grip upon it before it could sink again. Fortunately both
for the drowning lad and his rescuer, the former was by this time
unconscious. In the rough sea that tumbled about him Dick could scarcely
have fought against the struggles of a frantic man. In a trice he
turned the lad face upward, and, firmly grasping his collar with one
hand, swam on his back with his legs and one free arm. Surely he could
hold out until the boat came up! He heard the shouts of the men and the
splash of the oars; it could not be far away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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