"Trust to me!" he cried."Don't struggle!" And Erica who would naturally have fallen into that frantic and vain convulsion which seizes most people when they find themselves in peril of drowning, by a supreme effort of will made no struggle at all, but only clung to her father.
Raeburn was a very strong man, and an expert swimmer, but it was a fearful sea.They were dashed hither and thither, they were buffeted, and choked, and blinded, but never once did he lose his presence of mind.Every now and then he even shouted out a few words to Erica.How strange his voice sounded in that chaos, in that raging symphony of winds and waves.
"Tell me when you can't hold any longer," he cried.
"I can't leave go," returned Erica.
And even then, in that desperate minute, they both felt a momentary thrill of amusement.The fact was, that her effort of will had been so great when she had obeyed him, and clung with all her might to him, that now the muscles of her hands absolutely would not relax their hold.
It seemed endless! Over the cold green and white of the waves Raeburn seemed to see his whole life stretched out before him, in a series of vivid pictures.All the long struggles, all the desperate fights wreathed themselves out in visions round this supreme death struggle.And always there was the consciousness that he was toiling for Erica's life, struggling, agonizing, straining every fiber of his being to save her.
But what was this paralyzing cold creeping over his limbs? What this pressure at his heart? This dimness of his eyes? Oh! Was his strength failing him? Was the last hope, indeed, gone?
Panting, he struggled on.
"I will do thirty more strokes!" he said to himself.And he did them.
"I will do ten more!"
And he forced himself to keep on.
"Ten more!"
He was gasping now.Erica's weight seemed to be dragging him down, down, into nothingness.
Six strokes painfully made! Seven! After all nothingness would mean rest.Eight! No pain to either, since they were together.
Nine! He should live on in the hearts of his people.Ten! Agony of failure! He was beaten at last!
What followed they neither of them knew, only there was a shout, an agony of sinking, a vision of a dark form and a something solid which they grasped convulsively.
When Erica came to herself they were by no means out of danger, but there was something between them and the angry sea.She was lying down at the bottom of a boat in close proximity to some silvery-skinned fishes, and her father was holding her hand.
Wildly they tossed for what seemed to her a very long time; but at length fresh voices were heard, the keel grated on the shore, she felt herself lifted up and carried on to the beach.Then, with an effort, she stood up once more, trembling and exhausted, but conscious that mere existence was rapture.
Raeburn paused to reward and thank the men who had rescued them in his most genial manner, and Erica's happiness would have been complete had not the coast guardsman stepped up in an insolent and officious way, and observed:
"It is a pity, Mr.Luke Raeburn, that you don't bring yourself to offer thanks to God almighty!""Sir," replied Raeburn, "when I ask your opinion of my personal and private matters, it will be fitting that you should speak not before!"The man looked annihilated, and turned away.
Raeburn grasped the rough hands of his helpers and well-wishers, gave his arm to Erica, and led her up the steep beach.
Later on in the evening they sat over the fire, and talked over their adventure.June though it was, they had both been thoroughly chilled.
"What did you think of when we were in the water?' asked Erica.
"I made a deep calculation," said Raeburn, smiling, "and found that the sale of the plant and of all my books would about clear off the last of the debts, and that I should die free.After that I thought of Cicero's case of the two wise men struggling in the sea with one plank to rescue them sufficient only for one.They were to decide which of their lives was most useful to the republic, and the least useful man was to drop down quietly into the deep.It struck me that you and I should hardly come to such a calculation.I think we would have gone down together, little one! What did you think of?"But Erica's thoughts could not so easily be put into words.
"For one thing," she said, "I thought we should never be divided any more."She sighed a little; for, after all, the death they had so narrowly escaped would have been so infinitely easier than the life which lay before her.
"Clearly we are inseparable!" said Raeburn."In that sense, little son Eric, we can still say, 'We fear nae foe!'"Perhaps the gentle words, and the sadness which he could not entirely banish from his tone, moved Erica almost more than his passionate utterances in the morning.
The day was no bad miniature of her whole life.Very sad, very happy, full of danger, conflict and strife, warmed by outside sympathy, wounded by outside insolence.
