was no path by which they could proceed; they had stayed too long in the cove, and the tide had cut off their retreat.
The water was only a few feet in depth; and, had it been still, they might have waded it. But the flow was coming in with a surge strong enough to sweep them off their feet.
They saw this, but without feeling anything like fear. They regarded it only as an unpleasant interruption.
“We must go in the opposite direction,” said Julia, turning back into the cove, and leading the way around it.
But here again was their path obstructed, just as on the opposite side.
The same depth of water, the same danger to be dreaded from the lashing of the surge!
As they stood regarding it, it appeared to grow deeper and more dangerous!
Back to the place just left.
There, too, had the depth been increasing. The tide seemed to have risen more than a foot since they left it. It was but the breeze still freshening over the sea.
To have waded around either point seemed no longer possible; and none of the three could swim!
The cousins uttered a simultaneous cry. It was the first open acknowledgment of a fear both secretly felt.
The cry was echoed by their dark-skinned attendant, far more frightened than they.
Back again to the other side – once more back and forward – and their panic was complete.
They were no longer in doubt about their situation. On both sides the path was obstructed. Clearly was their retreat cut off! Up the precipice went their eyes, to see whether it could be climbed. It needed but a glance to tell them “No!” There was the gorge running up the cliff; but it looked as if only a cat could have scaled it!
They turned from it in despair.
There was but one hope remaining. The tide might not mount above their heads; and might they not stay where they were till it ebbed again?
With quick glances they interrogated the waves, the grotto, the rocks overhead. Unaccustomed to the sea, they knew but little of its ways. They knew that the waves rose and fell; but how far? They could see nothing to tell them; nothing to confirm their fears, or assure them of their safety!
This suspense was even worse to endure than the certainty of danger.
Oppressed by it, the two girls clasped each other by the hand, raising their united voices in a cry for deliverance: “Help! Help!”
Chapter Four.
“Help! Help!”
Their cry of distress ascended to the summit of the cliff.
It was heard; and by one who had lately listened to the same voices, speaking in tones of the sweetest contentment.
It was he who carried the gun.
After scrambling up the gorge, he had faced northward in the direction of Easton’s Beach; for the reason only that this was his nearest way to the hotel.
He was reflecting upon the incident that had caused him such a toilsome détour; though his thoughts were dwelling less upon this than upon the face of one of the two naiads seen playing in the pool.
It was the one of darker complexion.
Her figure, too, was recalled. In that transitory glance he had perceived above the water-line, and continued in the translucency beneath, an outline not easily forgotten. He so well remembered it, as almost to repent the spasm of delicacy that had caused him to retreat behind the rock.
This repentance had something to do with the direction he was now taking.
He had hopes of encountering the bathers as they came up to the summit of the cliff.
Much time, however, had passed. He could see that the beach was deserted – the few dark forms appearing upon it being evidently those solitary creatures of bachelor kind, who become Neptune’s guests only at the second table.
Of course the two mermaids having exchanged their loose aquatic costume for the more constrained dress of the street, had long since gone home to the hotel. This was his conjecture.
A cry came to contradict it; close followed by another, and another!
He ran out to the edge of the cliff and looked downward. He could remember nothing of the landmarks. The tide, now well in, had changed the look of everything below. The ledges were covered – their position only to be told by the surf breaking over them.
Once more came up the cry!
Dropping on his knees, he crept closer and closer to the escarped edge – out to its very brink. Still nothing to be seen below! Neither woman nor human being. Not a spot on which one might find footing. No beach above water – no shoal, rock, or ledge, projecting from the precipice – no standing-place of any kind. Only the dark angry waves, roaring like enraged lions, and embracing the abutment as though they would drag it back with them into the abysm of the ocean!
Amidst the crashing and seething, once more ascended the cry! Again, and again, till it became a continuous chant!
He could not mistake its meaning. The bathers were still below. Beyond doubt they were in danger.
How could he assist them?
He started to his feet. He looked all round – along the cliff-path, and across the fields stretching back from the shore.
No house was near – no chance of obtaining a rope.
He turned toward Easton’s Beach. There might be a boat there. But could it be brought in time?
It was doubtful. The cries continuing told him that the peril was imminent. Those imperilled might be already struggling with the tide!
At this moment he remembered a sloping gorge. It could not be far off. It was the same by which the young ladies had gone down. He was a strong swimmer, and knew it. By swimming round into the cove, he might be able to effect their rescue.
Giving a shout, to assure them that their situation was known, he started at full speed along the crest of the cliff.
On reaching the ravine, he flung himself into it, and soon reached the sea-level below.
Without pausing, he turned along the shore, rushing over sand and shingle, over sharp ledges, and making his way among boulders slippery with seaweed.
He reached the abutment that flanked one side of the cove, from which he could now again hear the cries of distress, mingled with the hoarse shrieking of the sea.
To wade round the point was plainly impossible. The water was neck-deep, seething and swelling.
Kicking off his boots, and throwing his gun, cap, and coat upon a ledge, he plunged in, and commenced a struggle with the billows.
It cost him one – his life nearly. Twice was his body borne against the rock with fearful violence – each time receiving injury in the shock.
He succeeded in rounding the point and reaching the cove beyond, where the swell broke
