THE MAKING OF A MAN

Otago Daily Times, Issue 16165, 29 August 1914, Page 2

THE MAKING OF A MAN

(All rights reserved.)

By Captain Frank H. Shaw, Author of " First to the Pole," " A Daughter oH the Storm/' etc.

CHAPTER XXXI. There are moments in a lifetime -which leave aii ineradicable impression on human hearts and minds, incidents that, whilst lasting only a, trivial while, seem so deeply burned into the brain that nothing, be it time or circumstance, will ever remove tlte scars. Such a moment did Henry Furrowes live through as the dismantled charthouse of the iiea-utii'ul Star was sucked wildly downwards in the vortex caused by the backward rush of the wreck. He thought his last moment had come— he counted his attempts as futile. Something had him. by the legs, something that he could not shake off; it drew him down beneath a foaming, roaring medley of tortured water; dashing the breath from his lungs and the sight from his eyes. But he -had courage now; and desperately, yet with a certain coolness underlying the desperation, he fought for the open air. He released his grip of the rope-tangle hanging to. the rait, he struck upwards with strong strokes; felt his lungs bursting, his head throbbing as if a steam-hammer were at work inside his skull —then he opened his eyes. He shut them again as quickly as he had opened them; awed beyond his powers of resistance at the frightful chaos that met his gaze. Almost within touch of his hand, so it seemed, was a churning fury of foam, through which protruded jagged splinters of rock; the similitude to gnashing teetli was more pronounced than ever. " If I look again," was the instant thought of his mind, " I'm done for. I'll lose my nerve.'' And he resolutely kept his eyes closed, striking out with' blind instinct, fighting strongly against the bitter lash of the breakers. He was caught up like a ball and tossed this way and that; he stiffened his muscles and persevered ; he was dashed against a shelf of rock, grew conscious of an excruciating pain in his shoulder; he still straggled on. Then came a climax; as if the sea were in despair at wrenching his life from him. He felt the bottom beneath his feet; he strove to obtain a foothold, but he was seized upon by clutching hands of spite and dragged remorselessly back. Again he struggled, again he was drawn into a broth of lashing whiteness; strength was ebbing from him fast; he flung out his arms, and—they closed tenaciously about a spike of virgin rock. There he clung [or breathless seconds, trying to still the wild beating of his heart; waves breaking over him solidly, a smart in his shoulder that filled him with a puerile desire to sob and moan from sheer anguish. Afterwards he wondered how he managed to retain his grip; he did not know that there is a strength of despair which more than equals the strength of a Hercules. His first entirely conscious thought was for the women lie had saved; if saved they were indeed. His second, one of chagrin and self-abasement —he had abandoned them in their hour of greatest stress. Selfishly, intent only on the preservation of his own life, he had left them to their fate; had left them to the sportive anger of the breakers. With this thought burning in his inner soul, his teeth grinding with self-loathing, he opened his eyes again, dashed the stinging salt from them, and looked round. Then he gave a sobbing cry of sheer exultation; something, that would have been a cheer had he possessed the breath For the charthouse had been borne resolutely towards the shore; it had escaped the maze of rocky fangs as by a miracle. The on-rushing sea had obtained a surer grip of the shattered structure; it had borne it forward at a greater pace than the swimmer—it was already through a narrow opening between two low-lying ridges of rock and was making for smoother water. Henry wasted no time in imagining what hw fate might be supposing he failed; he knew by this time that he who hesitates suffers a death with every second that passes; 'he deliberately measured his distance, released his clutch of the rocky spike, and struck out for the centre of the natural passage. Instinct told him that where the chart-house had passed unscathed a swimmer might hope to do the same, and instinct served him truly. There was a momentary repetition of the* horrible sense of futility; another breathless struggle against a foe . that seemed to gain in strength with every fleeting second—then he was lying gasping and weak, in water only a few inches deep; smooth water at that. He staggered upright, conscious in the main that every muscle in his frame was an embodied ache; and then sat down heavily on dry land. But the weakness passed in time; the ruling thought of his mind reasserted itself. Until those women were safely harboured he might know no rest; the struggle must continue. And, like a successful general, he surveyed his battlefield closely ere attempting his campaign. He stood on a patch of smooth sand, a narrow road between two weather-wom rocks. Before him lapped and curled the baffled sea; less than 40 feet away was the entrance in the Teef through which he had passed. The foam was leaping madly into the air without the barrier; and the thunder of strife was almost deafening. But between his feet and the barrier was water that by comparison with the outer sea was the unruffled calm of a millpond; and at a ■ point midway between himself and the rocks the chart-house was lying stranded in shoal water, still right side uppermost. The harness-casks had served their purpose well. Mrs Lockhart lay white and still, from the alarming pallor of her upturned face Henry named her for dead. But his first glance was for the girl, she was as _ white as her companion, but under the whiteness was a sort of delicate flush; as Henry gazed at the woman he loved her breast heaved slightly. Then he wasted no further time. As quickly as might be he cast his lashings adrift, and slid the inanimate body towards the inner edge ot the roof; then he splashed his way round, and deliberately dragged the girl into the water. It was heart-breaking work, but it was necessary,' the spray was flying over the chart-house, and unless he soon had his charges on dry land there was a likelihood of their perishing from sheer exhaustion. The touch of the girl brought back his fleeting strength, he felt ready to move mountains as Gladys opened her eyes wearily and stared at him as at a being from another world. Then, with a little sobbing shriek, she closed those eyes again, and shuddered strongly. "You're all right," gasped Henry pridefully. " Trust yourself to me; there 11 be no harm come your way then." And halfconscious as she was, she seemed to feel his presence, for she relinquished herself into his care without a single protest. Henry caught her under the arm with one hand, and commenced his return journey. It was difficult, for the -waves at close quarters were still boisterous, every other second a charging breaker would foam through the passage and break around the struggling two in a swelter of foam and angry spite. But still buoyed up with the strength of his love. Henry fought the backwash stoutly, and finally fell face forward into six inches of wateT—as weak as a child, but conscious of success. He crawled up the remaining few feet of beach, dragging the girl after him like a corpse, and not until he had laid her down on a patch of dry ground did he stand erect again. " I must leave you here for a few minutes," he said. " Don't venture to move." And he steeled himself for the next adventure. As he walked down the shelving sand he noticed that a wave was lapping at Gladys's feet; he returned again and dragged her higher—not so much as a sprav" should lay rude hands on that sacred form. Then he waded out towards the chart-house again. The salving of Mrs Lockhart was more difficult than had been the case with the girl. The elder woman was weightier, and she was so deeplv unconscious that she was merely a dead "weight in his hands. A|so, it would seem the tide was rising, for the water between the Taft and the. shore was deeper than it had been. But the dogged perseverance that had long lain dormant in his being, only to be aroused into full activity by the stress of circumstances, helped him. He set his teeth grimly, and vowed that he would win success* out nf seeming hopelessness. Gladys would need her aunt's companionahur—it is to be feared it was more f.-tr

Mm sake of tho girl than the woman that ho did what he did.

The chart-house was rocking angrily in the wave-play. Moro than once it was thrust almost on top of the working lad, and he had several adHitiuiiu.l brni.soH to his account before he had «ii<ci;ed<'.d in casting loose the Lashings and dragging tho body of tlie woman into the water. Once there, however, lit; called again upon his resources, and eventually succeeded in piloting his charge through, tbo «ea to dry land. Side by side he stretched tlie two bodies, and wondered vaguely what next might bo done. lie gave no thought to his own position, every "faculty w.is concentnitod in lessening the rigours of the position for the women. So without further ado lie dropped on his knees beside Gladys Cavendish, and began to employ such simple means as he had at his disposal to bring her back to life. lie chafed her bands, he slapped her cheeks lightly, and his own chilled blood raced to his heart as he marked how a delicate pink flush toko under her pallor. He felt an almost irresistible desire to clasp the girl in his arms and shower warm, life-giving kisses on her lips to bring back the rich carmine in full beauty. But he held himself in an iron restraint. He had had time for thought during his mechanical toil, and he realised that if Mrs Lockhart were indeed dead it behoved him to show the girl in his care every respect. Were he to profess his love for her thus early their situation might be attended by sheer embarrassment; therefore—and it may be accounted to him for righteousness—he fought the temptation deliberately, and won a victory that was perhaps more glorious than his previous victories. For every fibre of his aching being was consumed with desire to take a sweet toll from the pallid lips; his arms yearned to clasp the pitifal figure close. Gladys Cavendish stirred slightly, and opened her eyes again. Once again that expression of doubt and wonder came into the glorious orbs, and Henry felt his heart slogging painfully against his ribs. What if she had sustained some blow in that passage from the wreck? What if her brain had been injured; what if the lovely body was but the shrine of a weakened mind ? But almost as the thought trembled in his soul the expression of doubt faded away, Gladys emiled full into bis downbent, concerned face. "That's the ticket!" he exclaimed joyfully. "You're saved, Miss Cavendish, try to move—see if any harm has been done to you." She stirred an arm, a foot —he took her under the shoulders and lifted her to a sitting position; after an effort she remained upright, a,nd again a wavering smile trembled on her lips. Then she threw her hands over her face and gave a weak sob. "Oh, it was awful," she cried; and womanlike forgot her own miseries in thought for others. " Where is auntie?" she cried, and Henry indicated the motionless figure almost within reach of her hand.

"If you can sit up," he said, "I'll see what I can do for her." And he busied himself with Mrs Lockhart. It seemed hopeless indeed; for almost an hour he toiled on; there was no result. The elder woman lav like a marble statue; her eyes were rigidly closed; no pulsation oould be felt in her wrist. 'But presently, stilt working at her hands and face, Henry thought he felt a slipht flutter; he redoubled his energies, the flutter became a breath. Be was almost dropping with fatigue; every movement of his own arms caused him pain; he knew that if he relinquished his work he must fall motionless on the sand; therefore he allowed no single moment of cessation of effort. '"' I think she is alive," he said weakly to Gladys. "If you could manage to attend to her yourself, you might be able to do more than I can." And he stood upright, stretching bis cramped muscles, seeing the little world of barren rock and chilly sand dance in zoetrope circles under his eyes. .Then he pitched forward on his face and lay like the (Jead on the sand. (To be continued.)