George Manville Fenn

“ While the latter was growing moment by moment more refulgent, the former caught the wondrous dyes, till the water seemed everywhere like molten gold with ruddy and empurpled reflections where the sea gave a gentle heave. Even the gulls and shags that floated on the tide seemed to be glorified by the wondrous colour, till Harry, as he sat there with the stout cord of his fishing-line twisted round his hand, felt how majestic and awe-inspiring was the coming of the new-born day, and involuntarily exclaimed:
“Who would stay in bed if they knew what the dawn is like on such a morn as this!” ”

“ But there was no diver to be seen, nothing but the racing, hissing foam.
Yes: there he was—that was his head, rising out of the foam thirty or forty yards away, and being carried to inevitable destruction against those terrible jagged rocks.
No man could swim against the furious, racing torrent which was now passing between them. No one could get out of such a current when once in. It was horrible to look at, for the helpless swimmer seemed as if he would be dashed against the crags and then float, stunned, wounded, and helpless, out to sea.
That seemed to be Mark Penelly’s fate ”

“ A plunge deep down into the sea is confusing at the best of times. The water thunders in the ears, and a feeling of helplessness and awe sometimes comes over the best of swimmers. In this case, then, tangled and helpless as he was, Harry Paul could only think for a few moments of the time when he swam into the sea-cave at Pen Point at high tide, and felt the long strands of the bladder wrack curl and twist round his limbs like the tentacles of some sea-monster ”

“ There were plenty of young men who could perform the feat, but Mark Penelly was acknowledged to be the master.
Dotted about the swelling surface there would be the heads of plenty of swimmers—men and lads—some going smoothly along, mounting the rollers as they came in, and descending softly into the hollows; others again swimming to meet each wave, then rising a little, and with a plunge like a duck or one of the great bronze-black shags, or cormorants, that sat upon the rock-shelves, diving right through the mass of water, to come out fairly on the other side. ”

“ They have worn the rock smooth, so that it glistens like glass in the morning sun, for, as if aware of the folly of urging on its regiments of well-mounted cavalry to come dashing in upon the wild white-maned sea-horses, or the more sober lines of heavy infantry in uniforms of green and blue, the sea has for countless ages bombarded Carn Du with stone-shot in the shape of great boulders. ”

“ He judged Harry Paul, in fact, by the same measure as he would have meted out to an enemy himself; and so terrible were his thoughts, so horrifying to him was the thought of the death from which he had escaped, that he was robbed of all energy; he had not strength to do more than hang there clinging to the weeds with desperate clutch, and, with only his head out of water, gaze up in Harry’s stern eyes. ”

“ For this is not “how the waters come down at Lodore,” but how they come in at Carn Du, a little fishing town on the Cornish coast.
There’s a black mass of rock standing out like a buttress just to the west of the little harbour, running right into the sea, and going down straight like a wall into the deep clear water at its foot, as if to say to the waves, “Thus far may you come, and no farther.” ”

“ These have ground and polished off every scrap of seaweed, every barnacle, limpet, and sea-anemone, leaving the rock all smooth and bare, while the boulders lie piled to the east in a heap, where the waves that try to take the rock in flank leap amongst them, and roll them over higher and higher, to come rumbling down as if they were tiny pebbles instead of rounded masses of granite and spar-veined stone a quarter, half, and a hundredweight each. ”

“ There one moment stood the statuesque figure, white as a cameo cut in the black rock, the next moment there was a gleam of something flashing through the air, and passing into the deep blue wave, which, as if by the contact of the figure, broke into silvery foam, rushing back like a vast cascade towards the Shangles. ”

“ For hundreds upon hundreds of years the winds and tides have combined to rid themselves of this obstacle to their progress, the winds urging the waves that come rolling in from the vast Atlantic, gathering force as they increase in speed, like one rushing at a leap; and at last leap they do, upon the great black mass of shale, tons upon tons in weight, seeming as if they would sweep it clear away, and rush on in mad ruin to tumble the fishing luggers together and shatter them like eggs as they lie softly rubbing together in the harbour. ”

“ He’s just made up his mind, he have, and he’s going to do it.”
“I’ll lay a ounce o’ baccy he does it better than Mark Penelly. I wish he was here to see him do it.”
“Ay, to be sure,” said the old grey-haired man. “He’s going to do it—now aren’t you, Mas’r Harry? I feel kinder quite glad of it, lad, for I taught you to swim.”
“To be sure you did, Tom Genna,” said the young man, smiling, “and I hope I haven’t disgraced my master.”
“Not you, lad; there is not a finer swimmer nowhere,” said the old man enthusiastically; “and I’m glad you’ve made up your mind at last to take the dive.” ”

“ They leap and fall with a mighty boom upon that rock, but only to break up with a hissing plash into a mass of foam, defeated, churned up with froth that runs hissing back, ready to give way to another wave advancing to the charge. ”

“ They were in no hurry to get in, for there was no means of sending their fish off till morning, hence they took matters coolly enough.
“Did you do the dive to-night, Master Mark?” said the master of the boat.
“Yes, to be sure,” said Mark conceitedly. “Bah! it’s mere child’s play.”
“And yet Mas’r Harry Paul never does it,” said another, in the sing-song tone peculiar to the district.
“He! a miserable coward!” cried Penelly, contemptuously. “He hasn’t the spirit of a fly. Such a fellow ought to be hounded out of the place. Why, I could pick out a dozen boys of twelve who would do it.” ”

“ Steady, lads; steady! She’s swum into the net that trailed overboard. Steady, or we shall lose her! Here, hold on, lads, and I’ll get down into the boat and—haul away!” he roared excitedly, as he had made out clearly what was entangled in the net. “Quick, lads! quick! It’s a man! It’s—my word if it ar’n’t young Harry Paul!”
The net was drawn in steadily over the roller at the lugger’s side, till Penelly and the master could lean down and grasp the arms of the drowning or drowned man, whom they dragged on board, and then, not without some difficulty, freed from the net that clung to his limbs. ”

“ Others would make for one of the cinnamon-sailed luggers lying at anchor, to go round and back, or would get into one of the boats; while some, more venturesome, or really more confident in their powers over the water, would go boldly out, perhaps a mile, to meet some lugger coming in from the fishing-ground, sure of being taken aboard and riding back abreast of the boulders where they had left their clothes. ”

“ It was a matter of impulse, and Harry Paul’s experience should have taught him that keeping perfectly cool, and urging the boat along to where he had last seen the body, was the surest way of rendering help. But there are times when even those of the strongest mental capacity find it is difficult to retain their presence of mind. ”

“ To be a good swimmer was everything at Carn Du. They looked upon it as a business—as part of their education—for no boy or man was counted fit to go out in a boat who could not leap overboard and swim alongside, or, during a capsize, keep himself afloat, and help to turn the boat and bale her out. ”

“ She seems to have plenty of fish.”
“Ay, lad, plenty,” said another; “they’ve been signalling that they’re ’most full. But when are you going to take the jump, lad, eh?”
“I don’t know,” said Harry quietly, as he went on preparing for his bathe; “perhaps never.”
“I wonder at you, Master Harry,” said another, a grey-headed old fisherman. “Here’s you, son of the biggest owner here in Carn Du, a young chap as can swim like a seal, and yet never had the pluck to take the big leap.”
“Yes,” said the first speaker, “a dive as there’s dozens of boys o’ fifteen and sixteen ready to do if they’d let ’em.” ”

“ Had he felt any further doubt it was solved on the instant by a repetition of the cry, this time clearer, and plainly to be interpreted into that agonising appeal that thrills the hearts of weak and strong alike—the one word “Help!” ”

“ I wish I was not such a coward.”
“If I don’t make him pay me pretty heavy for all this,” said Zekle, chuckling to himself, “I’ll know the reason why. Five-and-twenty pounds earned right slap off by just seeing that net pitched overboard! That’s cleverness, that is. Now I’ll just go up to Mas’r Harry Paul and see what he has got to say. P’r’aps there’s a five or a ten to be made there. It’s better than fishing by a long way.” ”

“ There’s a fish in it, and a big one.”
“Don’t talk such foolery, Zekle Wynn,” said the master. “I tell ’ee half the net’s overboard.”
“How can she be overboard when she’s nigh all in the boat?” said the man savagely.
“Zekle’s right,” cried Mark Penelly, who was hauling away excitedly; “there’s a big fish in it. Look! you can see the gleam of it down below.”
“Well, don’t pull a man’s nets in like that, Mas’r Mark!” said the other, now growing interested and hauling steadily in; “nets cost money to breed.” (Note. Cornish. Making nets is termed “breeding.”) ”

“ I meant to help drag you out after a minute, and so I did.”
“How came you in the race this morning?” said Harry, in a cold, cutting voice.
“I’ll—I’ll confess all,” said Penelly faintly, “only help me out and save my life. I’ll go away from Carn Du, Harry Paul. I’ll be like your dog in future, only save me.”
“The dog of a terrible coward?” said Harry coldly.
“Oh, no; but you are not a coward, Harry. Help!”
“How came you in the race?”
“I—I—swam off to the lugger. I meant to swim off and cut her adrift—the lugger Zekle was in—he said he’d tell you. ”

“ I can’t go accusing people of what they p’r’aps didn’t do,” said Zekle; “but look here, Mas’r Harry, have you got any enemies?”
“Enemies! no,” said the young man. “Perhaps Mark Penelly is not very fond of me since we had that quarrel, but I’ve no enemies.”
“Ho!” said Zekle with a peculiar grin. “Who was aboard our boat?” ”