A Terrible Coward | Page 7

sun rise on the

morrow's dawn. But as it happened, the warmth of the wrapping, the
influence of the spirit that had been poured liberally down his throat,
and the chafing, combined with his naturally strong animal power to
revive him from the state of insensibility into which he had fallen, and
long before they reached the granite pier of the little harbour his eyes
had opened, and he was staring in a peculiarly puzzled way at Mark
Penelly, who still knelt beside him in the double character of medical
man and nurse.
"Eh! lad, and that's right," cried the master in a sing-song tone; "why,
we thought we was too late. How came 'ee to get twisted up in the nets
like that?"
Harry Paul did not answer, but lay back on the heap of what had so
nearly proved to be his winding-sheet, trying to think out how it was
that he had come to be lying on the deck of that fishing lugger, with
those men whom he well knew apparently taking so much interest in
his state.
For all recollection of his swim and the conversation that had preceded
it had gone. All he could make out was that Mark Penelly, who was
never friendly to him, was now kneeling by his side looking in a
curious way into his eyes.
By degrees, though, the cloud that had been over his understanding
seemed to float away, and as they were nearing the harbour he began to
recall the urgings he had received to leap from Carn Du, which now
stood up black and forbidding on his left; the swim out to the lugger
and round; and then--"Well, how do you feel now, lad?" said the
master.
"Better," said Harry, forcing a smile.
"How came ye to swim into the net? Didn't 'ee see it?"
"No," said Harry, thoughtfully; and as he spoke Mark Penelly watched
him very attentively. "I hardly know how it was, only that it seemed to
come down on me all at once."

"Just what I said," cried the master angrily; "and if I was you I'd have it
out of Zekle Wynn here, somehow--leaves a heap of net so as it falls
overboard."
"Tell 'ee I didn't," roared Zekle, shouting out his words as if he was
hailing a ship. "Nets went over o' theirselves."
Mark Penelly seemed to breathe more freely, as he now rose and placed
the spirits on the deck.
"I'd take a taste o' that myself, Mas'r Mark, if I was you," said the
master. "You don't look quite so blue as you did. But you seemed quite
scared over this job."
Mark declined, however, saying that he was quite well; and soon after,
in spite of the opposition he met with from the master, who said it was
foolishness, Harry Paul plunged overboard, and swam to the
bathing-place, where he dressed; and, saving that he was suffering from
a peculiar sensation of stiffness, he was not much the worse.
Mark Penelly watched him as he swam ashore easily and well, and the
bitter feelings of dislike which had for the time being lain in abeyance
before the scene of peril of which he had been witness, began once
more to grow stronger, completely changing the appearance of his face
as now, to get rid of the thoughts that troubled him, he took hold of one
of the sweeps and began to row.
"Nice lad, Harry Paul," said the master to him then.
"Yes, very," said Penelly dryly.
"Good swimmer, too."
"Yes," replied Penelly.
"Narrow 'scape for him, though, poor lad. Lucky thing we saw that the
nets was overboard in time. If I was him I'd just give Zekle Wynn there
the very biggest hiding he ever had in his life, that I would. He ain't

content with doing a thing wrong, but he ain't man enough to own it. I
haven't patience with such ways!"
Penelly did not speak, and Zekle remained silent, but he was evidently
moved to indignation at what had been said, for he kept lifting his big
oar and chopping it down in the water as if he were trying to take off
the master's head.
The buoy outside the harbour was reached, however, directly after, and
as soon as the oars were laid in all hands were busy for the next two
hours shaking out and landing mackerel ready for basketing and
sending across country to catch the early morning train.
It was soon known all over Carn Du that Harry Paul had had a very
narrow escape from drowning, and knot after knot of fishermen
discussed the matter and joined in blaming Zekle Wynn for letting the
net trail overboard.
"Still, he must have been a foolish sort of a creature to go