October 22, 1859.] COLDSTREAM. 346
can live in such, a sea. Suddenly she is hailed
from the waters. “Ship a-hoy 1” shouts a loud
clear voice, which makes itself heard above the
storm. “Throw me a rope or a buoy 1” The
life-buoy was still hanging in its accustomed
place by the mainmast. The captain almost
mechanically takes it down, and with well-directed
aim throws it within a yard or two of the swimmer.
In a moment it is under his arms, and in half a
minute he is on board.
“Come on board, sir,” he says to the captain, pulling one of his wet curls professionally. The captain appeared to be regarding him as a visitor from the lower world; so, turning to the crew, he lifted up the rope he had brought from the shore. Then for the first time the object of his mission flashed upon their minds, and a desperate cheer broke forth from all hands, instantly re- echoed from the shore. Then a strong cable is attached to the small rope and drawn on board — then a second — and the communication is com- plete. But no time is to be lost, for the stem shows signs of breaking-up, and there is a lady passenger. Whilst the captain is planning a sort of chair in which she might be moved, Tyrawley lifts her up on his left arm, steadies himself with his right by the upper rope, and walks along the lower as if he had been a dancer. He is the first on shore, for no sailor would leave till the lady was safe. But they soon follow, and in five minutes the ship is clear — five minutes more, and no trace of her is left.
Ravelstoke Hall has been aroused by the news of the wreck, and Mr. Ravels toke has just arrived with brandy and blankets. Him Tyrawley avoids; and, thinking he can be of no further use, he betakes himself across the country once more, and by the aid of the friendly elm regains his chamber without observation.
The lady, whom Tyrawley had deposited in a cottage, with a strong recommendation that she should go to sleep immediately, was soon carried off in triumph by Mr, R&velstoke to the Hall, and welcomed by Lady Grace at half-past three in the morning. There were very few of the guests who slept undisturbed that night. The unusual noise in the house aroused everybody, and many excursions were made in unfinished costume to endeavour to ascertain what was going on. The excitement culminated when the miscellaneous assemblage who had conducted the captain and some of the crew to the Hall, after being well- supplied with ale and stronger liquids, conceived that it would be the correct thing to give three cheers at Hie hour of half-past five.
It was then that Lord Todmulton, an Irish peer, labouring under an erroneous impression that the house was attacked, was discovered on the landing-place, in array consisting principally of a short dressing-gown, flannel-waistcoat, and a fowling-piece.
Breakfast that morning was a desultory meaL People finished, and talked about the wreck, and began again. It seemed quite impossible to obtain anything like an accurate account of what had taken place. At last the captain appeared, and though almost overwhelmed by the multiplicity of questions, nevertheless between the intervals of
broiled ham and coffee, he managed to elucidate
matters a little.
Then came the question, Who was it who swam out to the vessel. Tyrawley had only been at Ravelstoke a few days, and was a stranger in the neighbourhood. None of the servants had reached the coast till it was all over, so there had been no one to recognise him.
“I scarcely saw him,” said the captain, “but he was a dark tallish man, with a great deal of beard.”
“Was he a gentleman?” asked Miss Constance Baynton, who had been taking a deep interest in the whole affair.
“Well, d’ye see, Miss, I can’t exactly say, for he hadn’t much on; but, if he isn’t, he’d make a good one, that I’ll go bail for. He’s the coolest hand I ever saw. Stay, now I think of it, I shouldn’t wonder if he was a naval man, for he pulled his fore-lock, half-laughing-like, and said,
- Come on board, sir,’ to me, when we pulled him
up.”
“Perhaps it was Rutherford,” said Mr. Ravel- stoke, naming the lieutenant in the navy, “he is tall and dark.”
“And he has been letting his moustache grow since he came on shore,” observed a young lady.
“Where is he?”
But Mr. Rutherford was gone down to the cliff to inspect the scene of the disaster.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” said the butler, “it could not have been any gentleman stopping in the house, for the door was fastened till the people came down to tell you of the wreck.”
At thi« moment — half-past ten, A.M. — Mr. Tyrawley walked into the breakfast-room. He was got up, if possible, more elaborately than usual.
“Now, here’s a gentleman, captain, Mr. Tyraw- ley, who has been all over the world, and met with some strange adventures. I’ll be bound he never saw anything to equal the affair of last night.”
“You’d a nearish thing of it, captain?” inquired Tyrawley, speaking very slowly. His manner and appearance quite disarmed any suspicion the cap- tain might have had of his identity.
“Five minutes more, sir, and Davy Jones’s locker would have held us all. Begging your pardon, Miss,” apologising to Constance.
The captain had already repeated the story a reasonable number of times, and was anxious to finish his breakfast. So Miss Constance gave it all for the benefit of Mr. Tyrawley, dressed in her own glowing periods.
Tyrawley made no observation upon her recital, but took a third egg.
“Well, Mr. Tyrawley,” said she at last, “what do you think of the man who swam out to the wreck? ”
“Why, I think, Miss Baynton, — I think,” said he hesitating, “that he must have got very wet. And I sincerely hope he won’t catch cold.”
There was a general laugh at this, in which the captain joined; but it is to be feared that Miss Constance stamped her pretty little foot under the table.
Tyrawley turned, and began to talk to Miss
Melliah, who was sitting on his right.