THE WAY PETE WENT.

Press, Volume LVIII, Issue 10953, 1 May 1901, Page 9

THE WAY PETE WENT.

By Robert Halifax. There was a moon, but a treacherous one ; :its light only flickered down, and ran in paths across the sea when the rlying cloud-banks split up for the briefest instant: then all tiie chaotic 'blackness again. Pete Horrciibin had sat up late; it would have been nearer one than twelve wben the uncertain nuis-d of shouts and ruxmini? feet linn out of ills lethaivy. Ha had bsen kneeling alongside a box that held a faded white dmis, a brooch, a lock olf brown liair, and the portrait of a shy, laughing young fa.cc. He stumbled to the door wrtih his rush-light. Hoarse voices soundwl down by the quay, growing rapidly to a babel. Women were scurrying jxisi ; the gust of wet wind that scot their skirts flying, blew out his camile. acd set 'his grey -itair on end. But he htid lived all his "slow life at Flockton Kdge^—down tiis very c<)t>ble-slop9 ten vetirs ago, fearfully unrwil as it reined m>w, his little Pattie had used to race him out of breath ; he understood in a moment. In the aexi, has door left wide, he panting down to

lend the strength of his knotty old hands to any work Armisjflty allowed. . . .Beople only "ran and shouted like that when a ship, driven rigbt in. shuddered to a dreadful standstill with the teeth of the Tarbeft reeks deep in lier planks. There she was, not three ihmjdred yards airaT, at the end of the- reefline that ran out like "a finger—for ever the damnation of any hopes of growth..or ambition for Flockten Edsre. The huddled crowd on the quay -was still holding its breaiih to realise more by tfhe next bit of moonlight. A lantern flared and waved in the rigzing, but tieat was all; only hearts, not baiwjs, might reach across the three hundred yards of chaos. Every few seconds a black ware reared out of the gloom, t-hundered down, and drove fefce crowd back —a dripping mass. At the very edge of tine quay, propped against a chain slung from stanchions. Half a dozen silent men crouched sideways over the surf boat, straining eves for a moment when it might be shot out on a receding sw«U. These were the men who dreaded notbmg save being bested by tihe element they had loved and fought near all their lives. And Pete Horrobin, sbung by the -wind , , lashed by the spray, soon made a seventh to get thai convulsive grip on the boat's gunwale. "Now—and now!" came Heber Bartley's tense shout, hi a momentary lull. "Here she comes! One, two —no! Stand for your lives!" Back slipped the crowd, followed by the spuane of a wave tfhathad broken sheer over toe seven there. God! they were swallowed up ! No ; it ran back, sucking at the auay planks; the swaying, struggling group there resolved itself still into seven soaked, gasping figures. "Can't ! ba done—can't!" wen* up another hoarse voice. "Wants a man—a man with a line, to drag it out. Never pull it that far! Once there one roller 'ud spin it back here with all on board. Back with it 1 A man— a line!" "Aye," panted Bartley. "It's a twomasted coaster; thera wouldn't be twenty aboard —ip'raips not one by now. Look out —back wiith ilb!" A ntsft. a rattle, and back came the surf 'boat, just ahead of the next wave. Inside twenty seconds a stack of rope was dragged down, and -one end made into a slip xroose. Long before, if ever, tie noose reached the two-master the ropa would be lengthened for double the distance. The men had ■hardly looked at each other. "Let's have it," said Bartley. "I'll get tlia.t far." "I'm taking it," wild Pete Eorrobin; and lie snatched at the nocse—so they say—and slipped it over his s'houldsrs like a man doubted. "No, you marnt cenie back!" '"Then no one'll miss mc. I'm taking it this time. Pay out, there!" ""My God, don't let' him!" screamed a woman. But no one remembered that- till afterwards. In point of fact one man was at. goixl as another sf-or tihat attempt, for it was all 'bnt a certainty that 'he would never get by the first rock, round which the water swirled in. a mad malice. Pete looked round for a second at tihe faces, like an old gladiator thinking back on days when that thrill could warm his blood to any daring. He threw off 'his boots, took a lit tie run, retreated, ran again, and pierced sideways into the belly of a wave iust on the curl. Boom! it came. Straining eyes, they sniw him shoot up in the hollow beyond, swimming like a dog toward tihe first rock. Another indefinite mass reared and ynr.rned hungrily over him ; he plunged deep ifcwn again, and then they lost all reckoning and sight of him. Tbey could only pay oufc the line in breathless suspense, and witch it stopping away by slow degrees, and look at- each other Tv-lien it seemed to pause. Calmest of them all, with a grim stubbornness born of experience and, maybe, indifference. Pete Horrobin was fighting , bis way from point to point, now lifting his lips for a breath of air, now clinging to a spur of crag, now sliding into the still dtptliis. In normal times, on? could walk almost to the end of the rock-finger at low tide; now there were ten feet of water before him, and often twenty feet above him. He had no definite fear—he was gauging and calculating his chances and openings all the time. Keeping his breath, he had but two anxieties : to keep the line free, and to avoid being dashed against the rocks. And. although lie could not have told how he did it, not twenty precious minutes had passed before he found himself gasping for life at the last big crag, with a grinding, splintering thunder in his ears, and the hull of the twomaster looming above him. Another minute and he mustered a feeble shout. Another, and, as in a dream, he saw heads craning over the side. Then a yelling, and a rope-knot swayed against his face. He clutched it with his last sick effort, clung on by hands and knees, felt himself baing whirled up, and just knew that he had sunk down on the deck. Minutes or hours might have passed. When he came to, and struggled up. a dozen men were hauling in a frenzy at his line. A mad shout went up as the surf-boat, with a shorerope aitadied. cauy pp:n-ning on the crest of ! a wave. Their own two frail boats had been swept away at the first attempt to launch them. The surf-boat was air-tight at either end. "Keep calm, lads!" he heard someone say. "It's a hang-on, and our last hope—she can't last another hour. Who brought the rope— where is he?" "Here," said Pete, dazedly. "What boat did you say?" "The Maud Elliott. Aberdeen to Plymouth. You've saved us; we shan't forget it. Now. one at a time—mind! Keep her off the rocks!" A lurch of- the dying vewwl sent «?veral of them sprawling. As they scrambled up and masses again, Pete heard a cry. "They're pulling! Hold on—where's Nat Foley? He was standing here." Pete started, stared at them with a hand to his head, and whispered to himself, "Nat— Nat Foley!" They were gliding down the haul rope, coiled round a stanchion. One man had swarmed up the mast with a flaring light, and was waving it. Now he had slipped down. Now only the master was left, still shouting. . "Hold , on there—it's slipping! Foley! And wbtre's tint man? Count up! Foley!" Down in the cabin at the foot of the hirtciiwuv. rhere he was standing, with his bark to th> w-.i1. , . his *yes wide, his hardseme fac»; h'nrchfd in the lantern-light. And there in the d.'orway. oetween him and tha '■iian:e cf fhrling life, stood old Pete, the grey hair down Ms forehead. "You couldn't! Lemm-e go!" came Foley's dry whisper again. "My God! there off—it's breaking up.' Pete ?" "Breaking up? Ay," said the other, taking one ms»re sir p. "And mv heart—who broke that? My life—who damned that? Answer!" » Now the knotty hands were round Foley's throat, fixing his head as in a vice. Below, somewhere, came the sound of rippling and tearing; up here, the water guntieef'to their ankles. As he stared isito the flaming eyes, he saw red , death within an inch of him— the price to pay In that one second, his mind" swung back to the summer day when Pete Horrobin had gripped his hand, and Pattie'a brown cheeks had glowed at sound of his whistle. And then, one year later, when he had whispered' instead of whistling, and the two loving, frightened arms had clung round his neck, and—and unconscious Pete had walked into the empty room one morning, to find the tear-stained note that told him his little Patty was gone. "Answer!'' came his whimper. "You! One word: Where is she? One word: alive or—or dead?" "Dead!"- Only one syllable broke in his strangled throat. Horrobin's hands fell away, to go np to his eyes, as he turned. And once more came that shout. ,„ "Quick, there! Foley—Foley! They're off —tney're pulling!" Pete gave one great, shiver, and looked. Foley had slid down to his knees, trying to raise* the answering shout that would not came. And then—and then, Pete stooped, lifted him as if he had been a. boy, staggered to the hatchway, and flung him in a heap on the deck. "Tafce vcur rope ! Take- your life ■ Go '." The last bit of rope was slipping round the stanchion, as the crowd on shore bent its back to the poll. With, a crazy scream, Foley leaped, caught it, and went whirling away. Next moment the eurfboat was lifted on a roller, spnn round like a cork, and shot shoreward. Sheer on to the quay it was carried, with its clinging cargo; and, almost simultaneously, the limp body of a man wan flung alongside. It was Foley, with one nicker of breath in him that by morning had been fanned back to full Hie. And in the morning, when the sun flamed down, the rock-finger pointed serenely out toward eternity, to tell them which way old Pete had find Patti*