‘Oh, Will, thank God! Thank God you’re safe. I didn’t know!’
‘Didn’t know I was safe?’ grinned Will, putting his arms round her and holding her close.
‘Will!’ she murmured. ‘We’re in public!’
‘So we are,’ Will agreed and kissed her gently on the lips before letting her go.
‘No, I mean I didn’t know you were lifeboat crew. I thought they was all fishermen. When Miss Sophie told me you’d have gone out with the lifeboat, I thought she’d got it wrong.’ Suddenly realizing something else, she looked round the room again and then said, ‘Where’s Mr Charles?’
Will looked at her, surprised. ‘Isn’t he at home?’
‘No,’ replied Hannah. ‘Not yet. I thought he might be in here.’
‘I didn’t see him after we landed,’ Will said. ‘We’d picked up six men from the stricken ship and were almost home safe and sound when we lost a man overboard.’ He took Hannah’s hand as she gasped, ‘Not Mr Charles?’
‘No, no, not Mr Charles. Dr Bryan.’
‘Dr Bryan?’ echoed Hannah. ‘What was he doing in the lifeboat?’
‘Crew was two men down. Mr Charles has been out with us before and he volunteered. Skipper was happy enough to take him. Then Dr Bryan turned up, and the next thing you know he’s paired with me.’
‘What d’you mean, paired?’
‘Lady Margaret is double-banked. Six oars on either side. We have an oar each, so we’re sitting next to the man with the opposite oar. He was sitting next to me. It’d usually be Davy Knight, but he broke his leg t’other day; fell off his roof mending his chimney he did, and Dr Bryan had his place.’
‘So what happened to him?’
‘We were coming home, preparing to make the run in through the breakers, taking down sails and masts before rowing in on the waves. Tricky coming in when it’s rough, specially if the tide’s on the turn. Anyway Fred Polmire saw him being sick over the side. Not surprised at that, he looked pretty green about the gills the whole time. And while he was leaning over the side a freak wave broke over us, almost drowning us all, but he was swept away. It was dark and with only light from a couple of storm lanterns we couldn’t see much, but there was no sign of him in the water.’
‘And you just came in without him?’
‘It was getting dangerous out there, Hannah. Skipper’s responsible for everyone and he had to make sure the rest of us was safe. It was close to the shore and the doctor was wearing a life jacket, so he’ll probably be all right.’
‘And you think this Skipper was right to leave him?’
‘I do,’ Will said firmly. ‘And Mr Charles’ll say the same, I’m sure.’
‘But where is Mr Charles?’ wondered Hannah. The crowd in the bar was thinning out now as the crew went home to dry out and to get some sleep. ‘He hadn’t come home when I left.’
‘Which way did you come?’
‘Down the lane. I wouldn’t cross that cliff top in the dark in weather like this.’
‘That’ll be it then,’ said Will. ‘He’ll have taken the cliff path and you’ll have missed each other. He’s probably tucked up in bed now, glad to be safe on shore. Come on,’ he said, ‘it’s very late. I’ll walk you home.’
*
Charles was certainly not tucked up in bed. When he’d hit the water the chill of it numbed him completely. His life jacket brought him back to the surface but he knew he was going to die. For a moment he struggled to keep his head above water, but as he turned his face from the incoming sea and kicked out with his feet, he found that with the buoyancy of the cork he could fight against the pull of the waves. For a couple of minutes he allowed himself to be carried where the sea took him; he could no longer see the lights of the Lady Margaret and hoped he was beyond the needle rocks that lined the shore. The tide should carry him towards the harbour.
Suddenly he felt something grab at his legs. He kicked out, trying to pull free, but desperate hands gripped him and began to pull him under. Kicking and struggling, he managed to break free and was being carried away by the tide when a head burst up through the water, and by the pale light of the moon he saw who it was. Nicholas Bryan was flailing about in the water and Charles realized with a sinking heart that the doctor’s life jacket had been ripped away, leaving a single ring of cork about his waist. Charles swam towards the struggling man and reached out a hand.
‘Hold fast!’ he called. ‘Don’t panic and we can reach the shore.’
Nicholas clutched the outstretched hand, trying to pull Charles closer. Charles could see the naked terror in his eyes and he called again, ‘Don’t panic, Nicholas, turn your face from the waves!’
But Nicholas was beyond reason. He fought to cling on to Charles and was in danger of sinking them both. Once more Charles managed to break free from the clutching hands, and struggling himself to keep his own head above water turned back again to shout, ‘I’m coming back for you. Don’t struggle. You’ll drown us both.’ But even as he shouted, another huge wave swept him further away, and when he looked again there was no sign of Nicholas Bryan.
By the light of the moon Charles could see the shore. The tide continued to sweep him along with little he could do about it. He could see the lights of Port Felec and the entrance to its tiny harbour, but he was too far out to swim ashore.
I’m going to drown.
The thought passed through his head but somehow it didn’t seem important. The sea was carrying him under the cliffs, and above him he could see more lights. That must be Trescadinnick, he thought. At least Sophie and AliceAnne are safely inside.
It was then that he heard again Sophie’s last words to him, echoing in his mind. ‘Come back, Charles, we all need you here.’
AliceAnne needed him; Sophie needed him. Sophie needed him. Sophie needed him. Suddenly the words penetrated his brain, and he remembered his own reply. ‘I love you, Sophie.’
The moonlight gleamed on the sand of the tiny cove below the house and Charles realized that he still had one chance to save his life. Forcing himself to turn into the waves, he kicked out in one last effort to swim for the shore.
*
When Will and Hannah reached Trescadinnick they were greeted by a worried Sophie, waiting by the front door. ‘Hannah, did you find him?’
‘I found Will, Miss Sophie.’
‘I didn’t mean Will, Hannah. I meant Charles. Where is he?’ She turned to Will. ‘Didn’t he go with the lifeboat?’
‘Yes, Miss Sophie, he came with us. We were two men short and he and—’ Will caught himself just in time. ‘And he volunteered.’
‘So where is he now? Surely everyone is back. Is he at The Clipper?’
‘No, Miss Sophie,’ replied Will. ‘I’m afraid he’s not. Are you sure he’s not home?’
‘Of course I’m sure,’ snapped Sophie. ‘I’ve been waiting up for him. He couldn’t have come in without me seeing him.’
Will looked concerned. ‘How’s about I go and talk to the coxswain straight away, Miss Sophie? See if he saw him after we landed?’
‘Something’s happened to him. I know it has,’ Sophie cried.
‘I’ll go and see what I can find out,’ Will promised. ‘You stay here with Hannah and I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
Will set off back to the village and went straight to Joe Fraser’s house on Fore Street, just beyond The Clipper. A heavy bang on the front door brought the coxswain to answer and when Will told him what he wanted to know, Joe Fraser paled beneath his weather-beaten skin.
‘I counted them in,’ he said. ‘But there was such a crowd on the beach, I couldn’t be sure. ’Cept of course I knew Dr Bryan had been lost. Once I did think there was another man missing, but in the hubbub I thought I’d just miscounted.’
‘But when could he have gone overboard? Surely someone would have noticed him fall.’
‘Fred says that the doctor was leaning over the side. He thought he was being sick, but maybe he saw Mr Leroy fall over and
was looking for him when that wave nearly took us all.’ He reached for his coat and calling back into the house to say he was going out again, came out into the street. ‘Come on, Will,’ he cried. ‘We better go and see Fred Polmire.’
Fred, already in his bed, was summoned by his wife and came bleary-eyed down the stairs to see them. ‘I only saw the doctor,’ he insisted. ‘Perhaps he was looking for Mr Leroy in the water, but he never called man overboard and the simplest man knows to do that.’
Will returned to Sophie and Hannah, waiting by the dying fire in the drawing room at Trescadinnick. One look at his face told them the news wasn’t good.
‘No one’s seen him since we came ashore at Anvil Cove,’ Will told them. ‘Of course, we can ask about again tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Someone may have taken him in for shelter.’ But they all knew that was unlikely in the extreme. Why would Charles seek shelter in someone else’s house when his own was just up the hill?
Despite Hannah’s insistence, Sophie didn’t go to bed that night. She sat in the drawing room and waited. She would be there to welcome him when he came home, but her heart was breaking. He had told her he loved her and she had not replied. She had been too proud to let him know how she’d come to feel about him over the last few weeks, and now it was too late. He had given up his life in a bid to save others.
Before he’d left he’d charged her with looking after his daughter. ‘I know you’ll look after her, Sophie, if... if I’m gone long.’ Had he had some premonition that he wasn’t coming back?
‘Oh, Charles!’ she cried in despair and buried her head in her hands. The fire long gone out, the room grew colder and colder, and eventually Sophie dozed, sitting on the sofa. That was how Hannah found her when she went down to see her later.
Let her sleep, Hannah thought. Tomorrow’s going to be a difficult day. And tucking a blanket around her, she left her to sleep.
*
Charles had used every ounce of his energy to swim towards the little beach that those at Trescadinnick used for their picnics in the summer months. It was here he’d learned to swim himself, but never fully clothed nor in such cold rough water. The life jacket stopped him sinking but did not keep his head above water. His heavy clothes weighed him down. He’d managed to kick off his boots, but however hard he swam he seemed no nearer the beach. In despair he gave one last thrust with his legs as a wave swept over him, and this time it carried him forward, exploding into foam around his head and leaving him cast up on the sand. Almost immediately another wave broke over him, but without the strength of the one that had beached him. Instinct made him bury his fingers in the wet sand, literally clinging to the beach with his fingertips. He was ashore, but he was bitterly cold and he knew that he had to move, or he would die. Sophie was waiting for him in the house at the top of the cliff. All he had to do was climb up the path to reach her. The path he had climbed so many times without a thought now seemed a mountain, but Sophie was waiting at the top. With immense determination he dug his feet into the sand and began to drag himself clear of the sea.
42
The storm had blown itself out when Frank Davies left his cottage in Port Felec the next morning. It had stopped raining and though it was still very windy, pale sunlight was lighting the sky. He’d heard the maroons go off, but neither he nor his wife had been prepared to brave the fury of the storm to watch the launch of the lifeboat. Now he trudged up the hill and took the path across the cliff to Trescadinnick, wondering what damage the bullying winds had done to his garden. As he neared Trescadinnick he saw something lying in the path. For an instant he stopped stock-still and stared, then realizing what he was looking at, he hurried forward.
‘Mr Charles!’ he cried, and kneeling down shook the lifeless figure on the ground. He got no response to his shaking and put his hand on Charles’s face. It was stone cold.
Getting stiffly to his feet again, Davies almost ran to the house, to bang on the front door and tell the news. ‘Oh, Miss Sophie,’ he croaked, when she opened the door to his frantic knocking. ‘Oh, Miss Sophie. He’s dead. On the path.’
Sophie grabbed at the old man, himself almost collapsed on the doorstep, and shook him. ‘Who’s dead. Where is he?’
‘It’s Mr Charles. He’s lying on the cliff, stone cold.’
Sophie gave a shriek that brought Hannah running. ‘He’s dead!’ she sobbed. ‘He’s dead.’
Hannah pulled Frank Davies into the house and pushed him onto a chair. ‘Tell me,’ she ordered. ‘Tell me what you’ve just told Miss Sophie.’
‘Mr Charles lying dead on the cliff,’ he wheezed.
Sophie was already out of the door and, leaving the old man sitting in the hall, Hannah rushed after her. Together they ran out onto the cliff and there they found Charles, lying at the top of the path that came up from the beach.
Sophie flung herself down beside him, putting her arms round him, her face against his cold skin. He was still wearing his bulky cork life jacket and his tarpaulin waterproofs, but his feet, hands and head were bare. Hannah kneeled down beside him and took one of his hands in hers. It was icy cold, but she pressed her fingers to his wrist in search of a pulse. At first she could find none, but moving her hand under his chin she thought she felt a flutter.
‘Get up, Sophie,’ she cried. ‘He’s still alive. We have to get him to the house. Run back – send Ned for Will. Tell them both to come here and bring blankets.’
For a moment Sophie stared at her and Hannah shouted, ‘Go, Sophie!’
Sophie was on her feet and running, while Hannah threw off her own cloak and wrapped it round the motionless Charles. Had she imagined a pulse? She felt again at his neck. No, it was definitely there, very faint, very slow, but beating.
‘Come on, come on,’ she muttered as she waited for help to arrive. She took Charles’s hands in hers and tucked them under her cloak, wishing there was more she could do to fight the cold that was taking him. It seemed an age before Sophie was back with a blanket and the promise that Will and Ned were right behind her.
‘Shouldn’t we take this cork thing off him?’ she suggested as she kneeled beside him, trying to tuck the blanket round him.
‘No,’ said Hannah. ‘I think it might be keeping him warm.’
‘But he’s freezing,’ cried Sophie in despair.
There was a shout from the path and they looked round to see Will and Ned arriving at the run.
‘We’ll get him back to the house,’ Will said. ‘You run on ahead and get his bed warm. Light the fire in his room. We need to fight the cold.’
Sophie and Hannah ran back to the house and several minutes later Ned and Will arrived, carrying the inert figure of Charles. They took him straight upstairs to his room, where the fire was just catching in the grate and Edith was running a warming pan between the sheets. Louisa, wearing a dressing gown over her nightclothes, was waiting in the hall, her face pale as she followed the two men carrying her son upstairs.
‘Now then, Miss Sophie,’ said Hannah, taking charge, ‘you go downstairs and get Mrs Paxton to make us all hot drinks. Tell Edith to bring up plenty of hot water. Will and I can do what’s needed up here.’ She gave her a little push. ‘Go on now, we’ll look after him.’ She turned to Louisa. ‘Mrs Leroy, please, will you wait downstairs?’ Louisa seemed about to say something, but changed her mind and did as she was asked.
Will and Hannah closed the door and set about getting Charles out of his cold wet clothes. They removed the cork jacket.
‘That’s what saved him,’ Will murmured. ‘Not just in the sea, but from the cold as well.’ They stripped the sodden clothes away and patted his freezing body dry with warm towels, trying to get the blood flowing again. They bathed him all over with warm water and then rubbed him dry again, before putting him into a warm, dry nightgown and nightcap and tucking him into the warmed bed, the blankets up to his chin. All the time they watched for any flicker of life, but there was none. Hannah felt for the pulse yet again, and still it was t
here, but the figure in the bed could have been carved out of marble.
‘We’ve done all we can here,’ Will said. ‘He needs a doctor. We should send Ned to Treslyn to fetch Miss Matty and her doctor. In the meantime he must be kept warm. I’ve seen a man come back from this, so we mustn’t give up hope.’
‘How did he come to be out on the cliff top, d’you think?’ Hannah wondered.
Will shrugged. ‘Could have collapsed coming home last night,’ he said. ‘But he was so wet, I think he came out of the sea. Must’ve gone overboard in the wave that took the doctor. Currents would carry him this way. Maybe he got ashore, managed to climb up the path before he was too exhausted to go further. Whatever happened, he’d be a dead man now if Frank Davies hadn’t found him and raised the alarm.’
‘I’ll tell Miss Sophie and his mother that they can come in now,’ Hannah said, ‘and I’ll send Ned to fetch Mrs Treslyn.’
Sophie and Louisa came into the bedroom and looked at the still figure in the bed. ‘We must keep him warm,’ Louisa said. ‘And someone must sit with him.’
Sophie was already at the bedside. ‘I’ll stay with him,’ she said, ‘until he wakes up.’
Louisa seemed about to protest, but seeing the look on Sophie’s face said, ‘We’ll take it in turns.’
When Matty and Dr Crown arrived from Treslyn, the doctor went straight upstairs to visit his patient and Sophie, sent out of the room during his examination, came downstairs to greet her aunt.
‘He’s still alive,’ she said. ‘I won’t let him die!’
‘That decision is not yours to make,’ said Louisa. ‘We can only pray for him now.’
‘If he has something to live for perhaps he will pull through,’ Matty said soothingly. ‘He’s young and he’s strong and is safely in his own bed.’
Dr Crown echoed her words when he came back downstairs. ‘You have done exactly the right thing,’ he said. ‘Now that his body is gradually warming up, he should regain consciousness. I advise constant attendance, so that if he wakes up someone is on hand to give him sustenance. A little water, a sip of brandy, perhaps a spoonful of broth. Warm drinks, not too hot, but regular.’
Miss Mary’s Daughter Page 41
