OCTOBER passed away, and November set in clear and bright, bitterly cold, with hard frosts and much snow. Still Sunlight village escaped the depressing London fogs. Things had not been prosperous in the village during the last month, for Captain Wilson and Evil Deane had made an extra lucky run, and brandy was cheaper and more plentiful than ever. It was a distressing sight to see the poor, ill-fed, half-clad children, and to know all the time that their fathers earned good wages, but preferred to squander them in drink, rather than provide the necessary clothes and food for the helpless mites depending on their care. Oh! drunkards will have a deal to answer for when the last great reckoning day comes. And yet this terrible evil, which was so quickly bringing misery, desolation, and ruin into more than half the cottages in the village, was not of many years' growth; it was barely nine months since the enemy first entered the hamlet in the shape of two kegs of the best cognac. It began its deadly work as soon as it landed, though almost imperceptibly for a few months; but lately it had been fearfully inflaming the hearts and dulling the reason of its wretched slaves. It so enthralled the poor creatures that at times they even turned a deaf ear to the children's bitter cry for bread.
Alice and Gwen watched with sad hearts the terrible evil, but felt almost powerless to prevent it. Gwen coaxed and begged her father to take no more; and thus entreated, he would not drink for a week or two, but he always broke out again. As the girl's birthday drew near, which was also to be her wedding-day, her face began to wear an anxious expression.
" I feel," she said to Alice, " what with father's promising me to Deane, and all the wonderful things you've told since you came, that soon my heart must break. When I think of the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and the wonderful stories in the Bible, my head seems to go round and round; it seems to be too big for me. I seem to have had so many troubles lately, and to have grown so old. I heard the other day folks say that father and Deane smuggle the drink over. I don't quite know what it means, Alice."
Alice explained it as well as she could, and added, with a sigh, " I almost wish I had not told you half the things I have; you might be singing and dancing about now, as you used to when I first came."
“Yes," the other answered, " an' father an' Deane might have gone down the broad way that Jesus said leads to destruction, without anyone to try and save them, while I was singing and dancing the precious time away. I feel I must save them; I can't rest till I do. Do you think God hears me when I pray, because I ask Him to help me so often?"
“Yes, I think so; He is sure to answer sooner or later."
The days flew by until it was less than a fortnight to Gwen's birthday; little preparation was needed, as Evil Deane was to live in their cottage. Her father bought her a new silk dress, and several other things equally unsuited to her position.
Sunlight village boasted no church or place of worship, so the marriage was to take place in Milston Harbor. Gwen took scarcely any interest in the simple arrangements; she could hardly understand it.
"Deane," the Captain said one night, “we must make another run before this little affair comes off."
“Gwen," he said two days later, “mind you set the light burning in the window when it grows dark till we come back. Deane and I are going fishing."
"Fishing, father? Are you sure you're going fishing? May I come? I haven't been for such a long time," the girl said wistfully laying her head on his shoulder.
"No, no, darling! it's not fit weather for you," her father answered, patting her yellow head tenderly. “You keep the house and freshen things up a bit against your wedding day, pretty one."
“It’s no good putting me off like that, father," his daughter sighed. “I wish you wouldn't go. Oh, I wish you wouldn't! Don't bring any more bundles home; there's nothing but a curse wrapped up in them! I know all about them now, an' it makes me quite ill to think of it. We're answerable for all the misery in the village this winter. You know we are, father; we brought it here first."
“What nonsense, child! You don't know what you're talking about. This is Alice's teaching again, I'll be bound. There, go and play!" and the Captain kissed her hastily and departed, for the conversation was not to his taste.
So the two men put out to sea in the smart little cutter. For the first three days after their departure the snow fell heavily at intervals, but the fourth night the wind rose and a tremendous gale sprung up.
The two girls never slept during that night, for Gwen, though well used to rough weather, could not sleep when her father and Deane were out in it. All night long the wind hissed and howled around the cottage, and, even when the day broke, never abated its fury. The huge waves dashed on to the beach with a deafening roar; no glimpse of the sun broke through the dark and lowering clouds.
As soon as it was light Gwen ran on to the top of the cliff to see if she could observe any signs of the cutter. Back she came to Alice with a scared look on her white face.
I can see her!" she gasped, "but her mast is broken off, an' she seems to be drifting on to the rocks instead of making for the bay. What can father and Deane be about, I wonder? Something must have happened; anyway, we must try an' send help to them, or they'll be dashed to pieces. You run an' tell the men in the village, while I try and drag the small boat down."
Away sped poor Alice as fast as her lameness would allow her, while Gwen, thanks to the sloping beach, managed to get the boat near to the water's edge. Soon the villagers came running over the frozen snow and stood watching the cutter as she drifted towards the dangerous rocks, but not one would go to the rescue.
“My dear," an old man said in answer to Gwen's frantic appeal, “we couldn't reach her in that small boat. She wouldn't live two minutes in this rough sea."
"You'd venture fast enough if anyone you loved was in danger," said Gwen bitterly; “it’s only because it's poor father an' Deane."
No one answered, for they knew the girl spoke the truth. Presently a stalwart young fellow was observed running down the path leading from the cliffs.
“I say," he cried, as he neared the little knot of people, “is Gwen in the cutter?"
He threw off his jacket as he spoke and stepped towards the boat.
“No, no!” said Gwen, moving forward, "but my dear father and Deane are. Do save them, Ben! do try! they'll be on the rocks in another minute or two!"
"It's a bad job, but I ain't going to risk my life for Evil Deane," said the young fellow, putting on his jacket again; “it’s through him our home's ruined. Father an' mother both drink like fish, now he sells them brandy so cheap. And—and—"
It's no good a-quarrelling with our bread-an' butter," struck in a middle-aged man, with a dissipated countenance, " none of us 'ud be able to have a little drop o' comfort if it war'n't for him. If I was younger, I'd try and save him myself, that I would."
“Hear, hear!" said a number of voices, but no one offered to venture.
Nearer and nearer came the cutter, passing in safety two or three dangerous rocks, but the next instant she was dashed against a large, jagged one, and began rapidly to sink. A moment more and two human beings were thrown into the water, struggling for life with the angry waves that fought and dashed against each other in their fury.
A few minutes of intense agony to Gwen on the beach, who gazed in speechless terror at the appalling sight, and the two were distinguished clinging on to the jagged rock which had sunk their ship—clinging on in spite of the boisterous waves, which threatened every moment to draw them back into the foaming sea.
“It’s all up wi’ em," said a man, “they haven't a chance; they can't hold out many minutes longer."
Gwen's eyes seemed almost to start out of her head with terror. “Will no one help them? Oh, Alice I pray, pray! beg God to help. I must try an' save them," she cried, pushing the boat nearer the water. “Oh, Ben! you can row and swim better than any one! Make haste, don't hesitate! Oh, my father my poor father!"
She gave the boat a frantic push as she spoke, and leapt in. It was too late to pull the boat back, so without more ado Ben sprang in after her, for he would not allow her to go alone.
The people watched with drawn breath as the little boat rose for a moment on a huge wave, and then disappeared again. “She’s gone! she's gone!" shrieked one of the women; but it appeared again, and continued its course in a most miraculous manner. The distance to the rock where the two men were clinging was not far, and once out of the breakers, though the tide was against them, they were able to make some progress.
The veins stood out on Ben's forehead and arms like cords; he was a splendid rower, and pulled with a will. Gwen could handle an oar almost as well, but her strength began to give out before the desired point was reached, and her stroke became slow and unsteady. The story of Peter's walking on the water flashed across her mind, and Christ's beautiful words—" O ye of little faith." “He’ll help me," she thought, "if I cry unto Him. You helped Peter, Lord," she prayed,” help us, we're most spent!"
She felt certain that her prayer was heard, and pulled with renewed strength. Oh, how her heart throbbed with thankfulness when, after ten more perilous minutes, they drew near to the two exhausted men. Ben threw out a rope, and first her father, and then Deane were hauled in.
"Now for the shore!" cried Ben.
Evil Deane, exhausted and drenched as he was, insisted on taking an oar.
"Father seems very ill," Gwen said in a frightened voice, looking anxiously at the old man.
“He’s just recovered from a drunken fit, that's what ails him," said Ben bluntly.
"This ain't no time for talk," put in Evil Deane, his teeth chattering from the cold, “look out for them rocks ahead, Gwen."
It was a less difficult matter to reach the shore, for the tide lent them its powerful aid, yet many a time they had a narrow escape of being dashed against the rocks.
Gwen murmured prayer after prayer to God for help with a sweet child-like faith, believing that He would bring them safely back. The throng on the beach had considerably increased in spite of the frozen snow and biting wind; many of the women were weeping, and all watched the little boat with keen anxiety as it rose and fell like a cork on the foaming waves.
Poor Alice knelt on the beach and prayed as she had never prayed before, with her face hidden in her trembling hands.
The men stood ready to seize the boat and haul her up the instant they should be able to reach it; intense excitement prevailed.
"If it hadn't been for Gwen an' young Ben, where'd they be now?" said one of the women.
"Ah, where, indeed?" another made answer.
"Here she is now, my lads!" cried a man, as a big wave dashed the boat to the shore.
It was instantly seized by half a dozen strong fellows and dragged a yard or two up the beach. The wet and exhausted occupants were helped out. The Captain, chilled to the bone, staggered towards his cottage; his head was a little confused even now, so heavily had he been drinking. Evil Deane was just in time to catch Gwen as she was falling unconscious to the ground. The events of the last few months, added to the excitement and exhaustion of the morning, had unstrung her nerves, and for the first time in her life she fainted.
A murmur of pity and distress rose among the spectators as Evil Deane carried her to the cottage, her yellow hair dripping wet, while Alice hastened before them to get hot blankets ready.
Towards evening the extreme pallor of her face gave way to a hectic flush, and her mind began to wander. They sent over to Milston Harbor for a doctor, who told them that she had brain fever. Three days after was Gwen's birthday, the day that should have been her wedding day; the sun shone brightly over the frozen snow, the air was clear and invigorating, and the pale blue sky cloudless, but poor Gwen lay restlessly tossing to and fro, talking to herself. Now it was the wonderful story, now some scene in the "Pilgrim's Progress," now she thought that father and Deane were in the raging sea; then she would beseech her father to give up the drink and pray incoherent prayers to God on his behalf until the tears ran down the old man's cheeks, and he was forced to quit the bedside.
She was well cared for; no princess could have been better nursed. Evil Deane, her father, and Alice waited on and watched over her with deep and loving devotion.