CHAPTER IV
"My advice to you, sir, is to chuck it!"
Gerald turned towards the chauffeur by whose side he was seated a littlestiffly, for his limbs were numbed with the cold and exhaustion. Themorning had broken with a grey and uncertain light. A vaporous veil ofmist seemed to have taken the place of the darkness. Even from the topof the hill where the car had come to a standstill, there was little tobe seen.
"We must have come forty miles already," the chauffeur continued, "whatwith going out of our way all the time because of the broken bridges.I'm pretty well frozen through, and as for him," he added, jerking histhumb across his shoulder, "it seems to me you're taking a bit of arisk."
"The doctor said he would remain in exactly the same condition fortwenty-four hours," Gerald declared.
"Yes, but he didn't say anything about shaking him up over fortymiles of rough road," the other protested. "You'll excuse me, sir," hecontinued, in a slightly changed tone; "it isn't my business, of course,but I'm fairly done. It don't seem reasonable to stick at it like this.There's Holt village not a mile away, and a comfortable inn and a firewaiting. I thought that was as far as you wanted to come. We might lieup there for a few hours, at any rate."
His passenger slipped down from his place, and, lifting the rug, peeredinto the tonneau of the car, over which they had tied a hood. To allappearance, the condition of the man who lay there was unchanged. Therewas a slightly added blueness about the lips but his breathing was stillperceptible. It seemed even a little stronger. Gerald resumed his seat.
"It isn't worth while to stay at Holt," he said quietly. "We arescarcely seven miles from home now. Sit still for a few minutes and getyour wind."
"Only seven miles," the chauffeur repeated more cheerfully. "That'ssomething, anyway."
"And all downhill."
"Towards the sea, then?"
"Straight to the sea," Gerald told him. "The place we are making for isSt. David's Hall, near Salthouse."
The chauffeur seemed a little startled.
"Why, that's Squire Fentolin's house!"
Gerald nodded.
"That is where we are going. You follow this road almost straightahead."
The chauffeur slipped in the clutch.
"Oh, I know the way now, sir, right enough!" he exclaimed. "There'sSalthouse marsh to cross, though. I don't know about that."
"We shall manage that all right," Gerald declared. "We've more lightnow, too."
They both looked around. During the last few minutes the late morningseemed to have forced its way through the clouds. They had a dim,phantasmagoric view of the stricken country: a watery plain, with hereand there great patches of fields, submerged to the hedges, and housesstanding out amidst the waste of waters like toy dwellings. There werewhole plantations of uprooted trees. Close to the road, on their left,was a roofless house, and a family of children crying underneath atarpaulin shelter. As they crept on, the wind came to them with abrackish flavour, salt with the sea. The chauffeur was gazing aheaddoubtfully.
"I don't like the look of the marsh," he grumbled. "Can't see the roadat all. However, here goes."
"Another half-hour," Gerald assured him encouragingly, "and we shall beat St. David's Hall. You can have as much rest as you like then."
They were facing the wind now, and conversation became impossible.Twice they had to pull up sharp and make a considerable detour, onceon account of a fallen tree which blocked the road, and another timebecause of the yawning gap where a bridge had fallen away. Gerald,however, knew every inch of the country they were in and was able togive the necessary directions. They began to meet farm wagons now, fullof people who had been driven from their homes. Warnings and informationas to the state of the roads were shouted to them continually. Presentlythey came to the last steep descent, and emerged from the devastatedfragment of a wood almost on to the sea level. The chauffeur clapped onhis brakes and stopped short.
"My God!" he exclaimed. "Here's more trouble!"
Gerald for a moment was speechless. They seemed to have come suddenlyupon a huge plain of waters, an immense lake reaching as far as theycould see on either side. The road before them stretched like a ribbonfor the next three miles. Here and there it disappeared and reappearedagain. In many places it was lapped by little waves. Everywhere thehedges were either altogether or half under water. In the distance wasone farmhouse, only the roof of which was visible, and from which theinhabitants were clambering into a boat. And beyond, with scarcely abreak save for the rising of one strangely-shaped hill, was the sea.Gerald pointed with his finger.
"There's St. David's Hall," he said, "on the other side of the hill. Theroad seems all right."
"Does it!" the chauffeur grunted. "It's under water more than half theway, and Heaven knows how deep it is at the sides! I'm not going to riskmy life along there. I am going to take the car back to Holt."
His hand was already upon the reverse lever, but Gerald gripped it.
"Look here," he protested, "we haven't come all this way to turn back.You don't look like a coward."
"I am not a coward, sir," was the quiet answer. "Neither am I a fool.I don't see any use in risking our lives and my master's motor-car,because you want to get home."
"Naturally," Gerald answered calmly, "but remember this. I amresponsible for your car--not you. Mr. Fentolin is my uncle."
The chauffeur nodded shortly.
"You're Mr. Gerald Fentolin, aren't you, sir?" he remarked. "I thought Irecognised you."
"I am," Gerald admitted. "We've had a rough journey, but it doesn't seemsense to turn back now, does it, with the house in sight?"
"That's all very well, sir," the chauffeur objected doubtfully, "but Idon't believe the road's even passable, and the floods seem to me to berising."
"Try it," the young man begged. "Look here, I don't want to bribe you,or anything of that sort. You know you're coming out of this well. It'sa serious matter for me, and I shan't be likely to forget it. I want totake this gentleman to St. David's Hall and not to a hospital. You'vebrought me here so far like a man. Let's go through with it. If theworst comes to the worst, we can both swim, I suppose, and we are notlikely to get out of our depth."
The chauffeur moved his head backwards.
"How about him?"
"He must take his chance," Gerald replied. "He's all right where he is.The car won't upset and there are plenty of people who'll see if we getinto trouble. Come, let's make a dash for it."
The chauffeur thrust in his clutch and settled himself down. They glidedoff along that winding stretch of road. To its very edge, on either sideof them, so close that they could almost touch it, came the water,water which stretched as far as they could see, swaying, waveless,sinister-looking. Even Gerald, after his first impulse of wonder, kepthis eyes averted and fixed upon the road ahead. Soon they reached aplace where the water met in front. There were only the rows of whitepalings on either side to guide them. The chauffeur muttered to himselfas he changed to his first speed.
"If the engine gets stopped," he said, "I don't know how we shall getout of this."
They emerged on the other side. For some time they had a clear run. Thensuddenly the driver clapped on his brakes.
"My God!" he cried. "We can't get through that!"
In front of them for more than a hundred yards the water seemed suddenlyto have flowed across the road. Still a mile distant, perched on a ridgeof that strangely-placed hill, was their destination.
"It can't be done, sir!" the man groaned. "There isn't a car ever builtcould get through that. See, it's nearly up to the top of those posts. Imust put her in the reverse and get back, even if we have to wait on thehigher part of the road for a boat."
He glanced behind, and a second cry broke from his lips. Gerald stood upin his place. Already the road which had been clear a few minutes beforewas hidden. The water was washing almost over the tops of the whiteposts behind them. Little waves were breaking against the summit of theraised bank.
Gerald sat down in his place.
"Look here," he said, "we can't go back, whether we want to or not. It'smuch worse behind there than it is in front. There's only one chance. Gofor it straight ahead in your first speed. It may not stop the engine.In any case, it will be worse presently. There's no use funking it. Ifthe worst happens, we can sit in the car. The water won't be above ourheads and there are some boats about. Blow your horn well first, in casethere's any one within hearing, and then go for it."
The chauffeur obeyed. They hissed and spluttered into the water. Soonall trace of the road was completely lost. They steered only by the topsof the white posts.
"It's getting deeper," the man declared. "It's within an inch or two ofthe bonnet now. Hold on."
A wave broke almost over them but the engine continued its beat.
"If we stop now," he gasped, "we're done!"
The engine began to knock.
"Stick at it," Gerald cried, rising in his place a little. "Look,there's only one post lower than the last one that we passed. They gethigher all the time, ahead. You can almost see the road in front there.Now, in with your gear again, and stick at it."
Another wave broke, this time completely over them. They listened withstrained ears--the engine continued to beat. They still moved slowly.Then there was a shock. The wheel had struck something in the road--agreat stone or rock. The chauffeur thrust the car out of gear. Theengine still beat. Gerald leaped from the car. The water was over hisknees. He crossed in front of the bonnet and stooped down.
"I've got it!" he exclaimed, tugging hard. "It's a stone."
He moved it, rolled it on one side, and pushed at the wheel of the caras his companion put in the speed. They started again. He jumped backhis place.
"We've done it, all right!" he cried. "Don't you see? It's getting lowerall the time."
The chauffeur had lost his nerve. His cheeks were pale, his teethwere chattering. The engine, however, was still beating. Gradually thepressure of the water grew less. In front of them they caught a glimpseof the road. They drew up at the top of a little bridge over one of thedikes. Gerald uttered a brief exclamation of triumph.
"We're safe!" he almost sobbed. "There's the road, straight ahead andround to the right. There's no more water anywhere near."
They had left the main part of the flood behind them. There were stillgreat pools in the side of the road, and huge masses of seaweed hadbeen carried up and were lying in their track. There was no more water,however. At every moment they drew nearer to the strangely-shaped hillwith its crown of trees.
"The house is on the other side," Gerald pointed out. "We can go throughthe lodge gates at the back here. The ascent isn't so steep."
They turned sharply to the right, along another stretch of straight roadset with white posts, ending before a red brick lodge and a closedgate. They blew the horn and a gardener came out. He gazed at them inamazement.
"It's all right," Gerald cried. "Let us through quickly, Foulds. We've agentleman in behind who's ill."
The man swung open the gate with a respectful salute. They made theirway up a winding drive of considerable length, and at last they cameto a broad, open space almost like a platform. On their left were themarshes, and beyond, the sea. Along their right stretched the long frontof an Elizabethan mansion. They drew up in front of the hall door. Theircoming had been observed, and servants were already waiting. Geraldsprang to the ground.
"There's a gentleman in behind who's ill," he explained to the butler."He has met with an accident on the way. Three or four of you had bettercarry him up to a bedroom--any one that is ready. And you, George," headded, turning to a boy, "get into the car and show this man the wayround to the garage, and then take him to the servants' hall."
Several of the servants hastened to do his bidding, and Gerald did hisbest to answer the eager but respectful stream of questions. And then,just as they were in the act of lifting the still unconscious man onto the floor of the hall, came a queer sound--a shrill, reverberatingwhistle. They all looked up the stairs.
"The master is awake," Henderson, the butler, remarked, dropping hisvoice a little.
Gerald nodded.
"I will go to him at once," he said.
The Vanished Messenger Page 4
