Newton Forster | Page 6

the firmament, while the
astounding claps of thunder bursting upon his ears before the lightning
had ceased to gleam, announced to him that he was kneeling in the very
centre of the war of the elements. The vessel neared the cliff in about
the same proportion that she forged ahead. Forster was breathless with
anxiety, for the last flash of electricity revealed to him that two
moments more would decide her fate.
The gale now redoubled its fury, and Forster was obliged to cling for
his existence as he sank, from his kneeling posture, flat upon the wet
herbage. Still he had approached so near to the edge of the cliff that his
view below was not interrupted by his change of posture. Another flash
of lightning. It was enough! "God have mercy on their souls!" cried he,
dropping his face upon the ground as if to shut out the horrid vision
from his sight.

He had beheld the vessel within the surf, but a few yards distant from
the outer rocks, thrown on her beam-ends, with both foresail and
mainsail blown clear out of their bolt-ropes. The cry for succour was
raised in vain; the wail of despair was not heard; the struggles for life
were not beheld, as the elements in their wrath roared and howled over
their victim.
As if satiated with its devastation, from that moment the storm
gradually abated, and Forster, taking advantage of a lull, slowly
descended to the cove, where he found Robertson still heaping fuel on
the fire.
"Save your wood, my good fellow; it's all over with her; and those who
were on board are in eternity at this moment," said Forster, in a
melancholy tone.
"Is she gone then, sir?"
"Right on the outer ledge; there's not a living soul to see your beacon."
"God's will be done!" replied the fisherman; "then their time was
come--but He who destroys, can save if He pleases; I'll not put out the
fire while there's a fagot left, for you know, Mr Forster, that if anyone
should by a miracle be thrown into the smooth water on this side of the
point, he might be saved; that is, if he swam well:"--and Robertson
threw on more fagots, which soon flared up with a brilliant light. The
fisherman returned to the cottage, to procure for Forster a red woollen
cap in lieu of the hat which he had lost; and they both sat down close to
the fire to warm themselves and to dry their streaming clothes.
Robertson had once more replenished the fuel, and the vivid blaze
glared along the water in the cove, when the eye of Forster was
attracted by the appearance of something floating on the wave, and
evidently nearing to the shore. He pointed it out to the fisherman, and
they descended to the water's edge, awaiting its approach with intense
anxiety.
"It's not a man, sir, is it?" observed Robertson after a minute's pause.

"I cannot make it out," replied Forster; "but I rather think that it is an
animal--something living, most assuredly."
In another minute or two the point was decided; they distinguished a
large dog bearing something white in its mouth, and making for the
shore where they were standing. Calling to the poor beast to cheer him,
for he evidently was much exhausted, and approached but slowly, they
soon had the satisfaction of seeing him pass through the surf, which,
even at this time, was not heavy in the cove, and, with the water
pouring from his shaggy coat, stagger towards them, bearing in his
mouth his burden, which he laid down at Forster's feet, and then shook
off the accumulation of moisture from his skin. Forster took up the
object of the animal's solicitude--it was the body of an infant,
apparently a few months old.
"Poor thing!" cried Forster, mournfully.
"It's quite dead, sir," observed the fisherman.
"I am afraid so," replied Forster, "but it cannot have been so long; the
dog evidently bore it up clear of the water until it came into the surf.
Who knows but we might restore it?"
"If anything will restore it, sir, it will be the warmth of a woman's
breast, to which it hitherto hath clung. Jane shall take it in her bed,
between her and the little ones;" and the fisherman entered the hut with
the child, which was undressed, and received by his wife with all the
sympathy which maternal feelings create, even towards the offspring of
others. To the delight of Forster, in a quarter of an hour Robertson
came out of the cottage with the intelligence that the child had moved
and cried a little, and that there was every chance of its recovery.
"It's a beautiful little girl, sir, Jane says; and if