It lit up the wilderness of white water where the sea churned savagely
amongst the sunken rocks; and it lit too the white face of a swimmer, now
nearly spent, who rising and falling with each wave, drifted in the sea
whose current bore him on towards the fatal rocks. CHAPTER XXXII--'TO BE GOD AND ABLE TO DO THINGS'


When the swimmer saw the light he looked up; even at the distance they
could see the lift of his face; but he did not seem to realise that there
was any intention in the lighting, or that it was created for his
benefit. He was manifestly spent with his tremendous exertions, and with
his long heavy swim in the turbulent sea. Stephen's heart went out to
him in a wave of infinite pity. She tried to use the trumpet. But
simple as it is, a trumpet needs skill or at least practice in its use;
she could only make an unintelligible sound, and not much even of that. One of the young men said:

'Let me try it, my lady!' She handed him the trumpet and he in turn used
with a will. But it was of no avail; even his strong lungs and lusty
manhood availed nothing in the teeth of that furious gale. The roof and
the whole house was now well alight, and the flame roared and leapt. Stephen began to make gestures bidding the swimmer, in case he might see
her and understand, move round the rocks. But he made no change in his
direction, and was fast approaching a point in the tide-race whence to
avoid the sunken rocks would be an impossibility. The old whaler,
accustomed to use all his wits in times of difficulty, said suddenly:

'How can he understand when we're all between him and the light. We are
only black shadows to him; all he can see are waving arms!' His sons
caught his meaning and were already dashing towards the burning house. They came back with piles of blazing wood and threw them down on the very
edge of the cliff; brought more and piled them up, flinging heaps of
straw on the bonfire and pouring on oil and pitch till the flames rose
high. Stephen saw what was necessary and stood out of the way, but close
to the old whaler, where the light fell on both of their faces as they
looked in the direction of the swimmer. Stephen's red dress itself stood
out like a flame. The gale tearing up the front of the cliff had whirled
away her hat; in the stress of the wind her hair was torn from its up-
pinning and flew wide, itself like leaping flame. Her gestures as she swept her right arm round, as though demonstrating
the outward curve of a circle, or raising the hand above her head
motioned with wide palm and spread fingers 'back! back!' seemed to have
reached the swimmer's intelligence. He half rose in the water and looked
about. As if seeing something that he realised, he sank back again and
began swim frantically out to sea. A great throb of joy made Stephen
almost faint. At last she had been able to do something to help this
gallant man. In half a minute his efforts seemed to tell in his race for
life. He drew sufficiently far from dangerous current for there to be a
hope that he might be saved if he could last out the stress to come. The fishermen kept watch in silent eagerness; and in their presence
Stephen felt a comfort, though, like her, they could do nothing at
present. When the swimmer had passed sufficiently far out to be clear of the
rocks, the fire began to lose its flame, though not its intensity. It
would be fiery still for hours to come, and of great heat; but the flames
ceased to leap, and in the moderated light Stephen only saw the white
face for one more instant ere it faded out of her ken, when, turning, the
man looked towards the light and made a gesture which she did not
understand: for he put for an instant both hands before his face. Just then there was a wild noise on the cliff. The rocket-cart drawn by
sixteen splendid horses, some of them hunters, came tearing up the slope,
and with it many men on horseback afoot. Many of the runners were the
gentlemen who had given their horses for the good work. As the coastguards jumped from the cart, and began to get out the rocket
stand, the old whaler pointed out the direction where the swimmer's head
could still be seen. Some of the sailors could see it too; though to
Stephen and the laymen it was invisible. The chief boatman shook his
head:

'No use throwing a line there! Even if he got it we could never drag him
alive through these rocks. He would be pounded to death before twenty
fathom!' Stephen's heart grew cold as she listened. Was this the end? Then with a bitter cry she wailed:

'Oh! can nothing be done? Can nothing be done? Can no boat come from
the other side of the point? Must such a brave man be lost!' and her
tears began to flow. One of the young men who had just arrived, a neighbouring squire, a
proved wastrel but a fine horseman, who had already regarded Stephen at
the few occasions of their meeting with eyes of manifest admiration,
spoke up:

'Don't cry, Lady de Lannoy. There's a chance for him yet. I'll see what
I can do.' 'Bless you! oh! bless you!' she cried impulsively as she caught his hand. Then came the chill of doubt. 'But what can you do?' she added
despairingly. 'Hector and I may be able to do something together.' Turning to one of
the fishermen he asked:

'Is there any way down to the water in the shelter of the point?' 'Ay! ay! sir,' came the ready answer. 'There's the path as we get down
by to our boats.' 'Come on, then!' he said. 'Some of you chaps show us a light on the way
down. If Hector can manage the scramble there's a chance. You see,' he
said, turning again to Stephen, 'Hector can swim like a fish. When he
was a racer I trained him in the sea so that none of the touts could spy
out his form. Many's the swim we've had together; and in rough water
too, though in none so wild as this!' 'But it is a desperate chance for you!' said Stephen, woman-like drawing
somewhat back from a danger she had herself evoked. The young man
laughed lightly:

'What of that! I may do one good thing before I die. That fine fellow's
life is worth a hundred of my wasted one! Here! some of you fellows help
me with Hector. We must take him from the cart and get a girth on him
instead of the saddle. We shall want something to hold on to without
pulling his head down by using the bridle.' He, followed by some others, ran to the rocket-cart where the horses
stood panting, their steam rising in a white cloud in the glow of the
burning house. In an incredibly short time the horse was ready with only
the girth. The young squire took him by the mane and he followed
eagerly; he had memories of his own. As they passed close to Stephen the
squire said to one of his friends:

'Hold him a minute, Jack!' He ran over to Stephen and looked at her
hard:

'Good-bye! Wish me luck; and give us light!' Tears were in her eyes and
a flush on her cheek as she took his hand and clasped it hard:

'Oh, you brave man! God bless you!' He stooped suddenly and impulsively
kissed the back of her hand lightly and was gone.