A TRAGEDY OF THE SEA
William Bales--as nice a young man as ever wore a cummerbund on anesplanade--was in despair. For half an hour he and Miss Spratt had beensitting in silence on the pier, and it was still William's turn to saysomething. Miss Spratt's last remark had been, "Oh, Mr. Bales, you dosay things!" and William felt that his next observation must at allcosts live up to the standard set for it. Three or four times he hadopened his mouth to speak, and then on second thoughts had rejected theintended utterance as unworthy. At the end of half an hour his mind wasstill working fruitlessly. He knew that the longer he waited the morebrilliant he would have to be, and he told himself that even BernardShaw or one of those clever writing fellows would have been hard put toit now.
William was at odds with the world. He was a romantic young man who hadonce been told that he nearly looked like Lewis Waller when he frowned,and he had resolved that his holiday this year should be a very dashingaffair indeed. He had chosen the sea in the hopes that some oldgentleman would fall off the pier and let himself be saved by--and,later on, photographed with--William Bales, who in a subsequentinterview would modestly refuse to take any credit for the gallantrescue. As his holiday had progressed he had felt the need for some suchold gentleman more and more; for only thus, he realised, could hecapture the heart of the wayward Miss Spratt. But so far it had been adull season; in a whole fortnight nobody had gone out of his way tooblige William, and to-morrow he must return to the City as unknown andas unloved as when he left it.
"Got to go back to-morrow," he said at last. As an impromptu it wouldhave served, but as the result of half an hour's earnest thought he feltthat it did not do him justice.
"So you said before," remarked Miss Spratt.
"Well, it's still true."
"Talking about it won't help it," said Miss Spratt.
William sighed and looked round the pier. There was an old gentlemanfishing at the end of it, his back turned invitingly to William. In halfan hour he had caught one small fish (which he had had to return asunder the age limit) and a bunch of seaweed. William felt that there wasa wasted life; a life, however, which a sudden kick and a heroic rescueby W. Bales might yet do something to justify. At the Paddington Baths,a month ago, he had won a plate-diving competition; and though there isa difference between diving for plates and diving for old gentlemen hewas prepared to waive it. One kick and then ... Fame! And, not onlyFame, but the admiration of Angelina Spratt.
It was perhaps as well for the old gentleman--who was really quiteworthy, and an hour later caught a full-sized whiting--that Miss Sprattspoke at this moment.
"Well, you're good company, I must say," she observed to William.
"It's so hot," said William.
"You can't say _I_ asked to come here."
"Let's go on the beach," said William desperately. "We can find a shadycave or something." Fate was against him; there was to be no rescue thatday.
"I'm sure I'm agreeable," said Miss Spratt.
They walked in silence along the beach, and, rounding a corner of thecliffs, they came presently to a cave. In earlier days W. Bales couldhave done desperate deeds against smugglers there, with Miss Sprattlooking on. Alas for this unromantic age! It was now a place forpicnics, and a crumpled sheet of newspaper on the sand showed that therehad been one there that very afternoon.
They sat in a corner of the cave, out of the sun, out of sight of thesea, and William prepared to renew his efforts as a conversationalist.In the hope of collecting a few ideas as to what the London clubs weretalking about he picked up the discarded newspaper, and saw with disgustthat it was the local _Herald_. But just as he threw it down, a line init caught his eye and remained in his mind:
"_High tide to-day--3.30._"
William's heart leapt. He looked at his watch; it was 2.30. In one hourthe waves would be dashing remorselessly into the cave, would be leapingup the cliff, what time he and Miss Spratt----
Suppose they were caught by the tide....
Meanwhile the lady, despairing of entertainment, had removed her hat.
"Really," she said, "I'm that sleepy---- I suppose the tide's safe, Mr.Bales?"
It was William's chance.
"Quite, quite safe," he said earnestly. "It's going down hard."
"Well then, I almost think----" She closed her eyes. "Wake me up whenyou've thought of something really funny, Mr. Bales."
William was left alone with Romance.
He went out of the cave and looked round. The sea was still some wayout, but it came up quickly on this coast. In an hour ... in an hour....
He scanned the cliffs, and saw the ledge whither he would drag her. Shewould cling to him crying, calling him her rescuer....
What should he do then? Should he leave her and swim for help? Or shouldhe scale the mighty cliff?
He returned to the cave and, gazing romantically at the sleeping MissSpratt, conjured up the scene. It would go like this, he thought.
_Miss Spratt_ (_wakened by the spray dashing over her face_). Oh, Mr.Bales! We're cut off by the tide! Save me!
_W. Bales_ (_lightly_). Tut-tut, there's no danger. It's nothing.(_Aside_) Great Heavens! Death stares us in the face!
_Miss Spratt_ (_throwing her arms around his neck_). William, save me; Icannot swim!
_W. Bales_ (_with Waller face_). Trust me, Angelina. I will fight my wayround yon point and obtain help. (_Aside_) An Englishman can only dieonce.
_Miss Spratt._ Don't leave me!
_W. Bales._ Fear not, sweetheart. See, there is a ledge where you willbe beyond the reach of the hungry tide. I will carry you thither in myarms and will then----
At this point in his day-dream William took another look at the sleepingMiss Spratt, felt his biceps doubtfully, and went on----
_W. Bales._ I will help you to climb thither, and will then swim forhelp.
_Miss Spratt._ My hero!
Again and again William reviewed the scene to himself. It was perfect.His photograph would be in the papers; Miss Spratt would worship him; hewould be a hero in his City office. The actual danger was slight, for atthe worst she could shelter in the far end of the cave; but he would notlet her know this. He would do the thing heroically--drag her to theledge on the cliff, and then swim round the point to obtain help.
The thought struck him that he could conduct the scene better in hisshirt-sleeves. He removed his coat, and then went out of the cave toreconnoitre the ledge.
. . . . .
Miss Spratt awoke with a start and looked at her watch. It was 4.15. Thecave was empty save for a crumpled page of newspaper. She glanced atthis idly and saw that it was the local _Herald_ ... eight days old.
Far away on the horizon William Bales was throwing stones bitterly atthe still retreating sea.