CHAPTER CLXX.

MARK INGESTRIE RESCUES A SHIPWRECKED MAN.

The scene now upon the beach at Brighton was one of the most exciting

that can well be imagined. No one who has not stood upon a beach under

such circumstances, and seen a brave ship battling with the waters, can

have any real idea of it.

Language is too weak to paint the feelings of such a conjunction of

circumstances. It is so hopeless a thing to stand upon the shore, and

listen to the wind roaring in its fury, and to see the waves dashing in

mad gyrations hither and thither, while a few frail and creaking timbers

only keep some poor mortals from sinking into the sea, which, like a

seething cauldron, seems ready to devour them, that it is enough to

unman the stoutest heart.

No wonder that persons with kindly sympathies and gentle feelings

towards human nature, such as Colonel Jeffrey and Mark Ingestrie

undoubtedly had, should suffer acutely to see others so suffer.

If there had been any likelihood of a boat reaching the ill-fated ship,

Ingestrie would have been the first to propose such a measure, and the

first, with hand and heart, to carry it out; but there was no such

likelihood. Our friend had seen too much of service afloat, and was by

far too good a sailor to suppose for an instant that any boat could live

for a cable's length from the shore in such a sea as that!

"Is it quite impossible to aid them?" said the colonel.

"Quite," said Ingestrie, "unless they strike close in shore. Then,

something may, perhaps, be done."

"Ay, sir," said a weather-beaten boatman who stood close to Ingestrie,

"you are right there. If they only drift a little further in, and are

still afloat, when the keel touches ground they may get ashore some of

them."

"No boat," said the colonel, "could reach her?"

"Boat, sir! My little bit of a craft will do now and then things that

one ought not to expect, from anything in the shape of a boat; but that

surf would toss it up like a piece of cork, and it would only be making

bad worse to draw a few brave fellows from land here, because others are

going down at sea."

"You are right," said Ingestrie. "Do you happen to know the craft out

yonder?"

"No, sir. She is so swept clear, that it would be hard to know her if

she were one's own; but I don't think she belongs to this port at all."

"The gale is going down a bit."

"It is, sir. Don't you see it's coming in puffs like--It won't last much

longer."

"Gone!" cried a hundred voices at once.

"No--no!" cried Ingestrie. "Don't say that."

A wild shriek came across the surface of the water, and the ship that

had been doing battle with the winds and the waves, disappeared.

"Oh, this is, indeed, terrible," said Colonel Jeffrey. "It is too

horrible!"

"It is, indeed!" cried Ingestrie. "There is but one chance now of doing

any good, and that is in case any poor fellow should get washed on shore

through the surf with a few sparks of life in him. Hilloa, my men! Get

out your tackle, and let us look out for the survivors. Some one may try

to fight for it yet."

The sailors and boatmen upon the beach were charmed with the idea that

they might be able to do some good in this way; and as they soon found

that Ingestrie knew perfectly well what he was about, they listened to

his orders, in the course they should take, and obeyed them with

alacrity and skill.

He had some of the long line connected with the fishing-nets, and to

which corks were attached, cast out into the sea by the aid of little

kedge anchors, so that the waves did not bring them back again, and as

the other ends of the lines were held firmly on the shore, any one might

be struggling for life amid the surf, would have had a good chance of

preservation by laying hold of one of those lines.

"We may do some good," said Ingestrie, as he tied one end of one of the

ropes round his waist.

"What are you about?" said the colonel.

"Oh, nothing. Do not fancy I am going to throw myself into the waves.

But if I should chance to see any poor soul struggling for life, it

would take something to prevent me from going after him."

"But think of yourself."

"Oh, I cannot come to any sort of harm, you know. They will easily be

able to haul me on shore, you perceive, by the other end of the rope,

and I have been rather used to fighting my way through the waves."

"Heaven speed you, if the occasion for your doing so again should arise,

my gallant friend. Far be it from me to dissuade you against such an

attempt; and I am sure that even she who loves you best of all, would be

the first to encourage you."

"Of course she would."

"All lost, sir," said a sailor.

"No, don't say that!" cried Ingestrie. "Where is that night glass that

some one had here a little while ago?"

"Here, sir."

Ingestrie placed the telescope to his eye, and looked fixedly in the

direction of the wreck. He then handed it to the sailor, and said--

"Who has a good hold of the end of this rope that is about me?"

"All's right, sir. There will be no lack of hands with that. But you

don't mean to go through the surf, sir?"

"I see a human being struggling with the foam, and from his actions he

is no swimmer. I cannot stand here and see him die, while there is a

chance of saving him. Hark you! Don't wait for me to sing out, but use

your own eyes, and begin to pull in the moment you see me close with

him. The dawn is coming rapidly, and you will see better each moment.

Now, I'm off."

"For the love of Heaven be careful!" cried the colonel.

Ingestrie smiled, and then dashed into the roaring, bubbling surf of the

sea, with the rope round his waist.

[Illustration: Mark Ingestrie Risks His Own Life To Save Todd.]

A loud cheer burst from the throats of all present, as the heroic action

was witnessed. If anything had been wanting, which it was not, to urge

the gallant Mark Ingestrie on his brave and noble adventure, that cheer

would have done it; but amid the roar and din of the water about his

ears, it is doubtful if he could have heard it at all, or any noise of

ten times the intensity.

The figure in the sea, that had attracted the attention of Ingestrie,

was now plainly perceived by the colonel, and by all who were upon the

beach. To the practised eyes of the sailors then present, it was evident

that the body must be lashed to some very buoyant substance, which

enabled it to keep afloat, not-withstanding the roll of the sea, and the

breaking of the waves over it. The person was evidently not swimming,

although, by the wash of the tide, and the set of the wind, he was being

driven into shore.

Mark Ingestrie felt that his only chance of getting through the surf was

to dive under it, and that manoeuvre he executed with a skill that few

could have commanded and to the admiration and delight of all the

spectators of his heroic conduct, he appeared outside the roaring edge

of the sea, quite able to swim gallantly towards the shipwrecked man.

As he had said, the dawn was coming fast now, so that there was no great

difficulty in seeing him, and in watching, with some degree of accuracy,

his movements.

"He will do it!" said the colonel.

"Do it?" said the sailor who had the first hold of the rope that was

round the body of Mark Ingestrie. "Do it? Of course he will. The man who

has the heart and hand to try these sort of things, always does them."

"I believe you are right, my friend," said the colonel.

"I know I am, sir. I have seen too much of this sort of thing, and if I

had not been a little out of sorts in my larboard leg, I should have

gone; but I'm not all right, you see, sir, so it won't do. Ah, there he

has him! It's all right enough--I told you so."

The progress of Ingestrie was watched by many eyes with the most intense

interest. Under no circumstances was distance so deceiving as at sea;

and although the black object in the water, which the practised eye of

Ingestrie had shown him, was a man, appeared to be only just without the

line of the surf, he (Ingestrie) knew that the distance was, in reality,

much greater, and that he would have a good swim through those troubled

waters before he could get within arm's-length of the shipwrecked

person. To be sure, as the body was drifting to the shore, he made

better progress, and the distance between him and it was diminished much

more rapidly than as if it had been stationary.

Colonel Jeffrey distinctly saw Ingestrie reach the body, at length, and

the sailor who had hold of the rope, likewise saw him, and he sung out--

"Now, pull away; but easy, my lads--a steady pull, and no jerking, or

you will hinder him instead of helping. That's it--easy now, easy."

"Ah!" said Ben, who had come down to the beach to see what was going on.

"Easy does everything, as I always said. Pray, Colonel Jeffrey, what

unfortunate animal is that you are dragging out of the water?"

"Don't you know, Ben?"

"Not I. But I suppose it is some poor half-drowned fellow from the

ship."

"It is that, as well, I hope; but the person who is with him, and who is

being hauled to the shore, is no other than our friend, Mr. Ingestrie."

"What, Johanna's husband?"

"The same."

"Oh, lor! oh, lor! I'm afraid easy won't do it then, and that my little

girl will be a widow. Give me hold of the rope. If pulling will do it,

I'll soon have him on shore again all right. The idea, now, of a man,

with the nicest young creature of a wife in the world, going into the

sea at the end of a rope, and covering himself all over with froth and

sea-weed! Oh, dear! oh, dear! It's truly dreadful, it is; and easy

certainly don't do it."

Ben would have lent his aid to pull the rope, but the colonel kept him

back, as it was not strength but skill and tact that in the process was

required, and the rope was in the hands of men who had both.

It was clear that Ingestrie had got hold of the floating object,

whatever it was, and that, as he was pulled into shore, he brought it

with him. When he reached the edge of the surf again, a quick pull

brought him at once through it, and a couple of the sailors, dashing

into the waters, got a hold of him, and drew him right up on to the

beach between them.

Half a dozen more brought to the shore the body of a man, tied to a

plank of wood.

Poor Mark was nearly exhausted. He was just able only to smile faintly

in answer to the colonel's anxious inquiries.

"He must be carried home," said the colonel. "Lend me some assistance,

my brave fellows, to do so."

"No--no!" Ingestrie managed just to say faintly. "Take him--take him!"

He pointed to the man whom he had rescued, and the colonel immediately

said,

"Make yourself easy about him, my dear friend. The sailors will carry

him to the house, and if the vital spark has not quite fled, you shall

have the pleasure of knowing that you have saved him. But it is yourself

that I wish to have got home."

"Can you walk?" said Ben.

"I--don't think--I will try."

Poor Ingestrie did try, but he was really so completely exhausted by the

efforts he had made, that it was quite evident that he was unequal to

the task of walking along the shingle.

"Give it up," said Ben. "You can't do it."

"He must be carried," said the colonel.

"To be sure he must," said Ben; "and this is the way to do it."

With these words, Ben did not hesitate another moment, but taking Mark

Ingestrie in his arms as though he had been an infant, he walked over

the pebbly beach with him as easily as though he had been only a very

ordinary kind of bundle to carry.

As he went on, it occurred to Ben that Johanna might see him carrying

her husband home, and might imagine that some fearful accident had

happened to him, so, by way of putting an end to that idea, he kept

crying out as he got near the house--

"Here we are! All alive and kicking! It's only a joke. All alive--alive

O! Here we are! it's only a joke! All alive! alive! and ready for

feeding time!"