CHAPTER XV
_In Which the Ruddy Cove Doctor Tells Billy Topsail and a Stranger How He Came to Learn that the Longest Way 'Round is Sometimes the Shortest Way Home_
IT was a quiet evening--twilight: with the harbour water unruffled, andthe colours of the afterglow fast fading from the sky. Billy Topsailand the doctor and a stranger sat by the surgery door, watching theboats come in from the sea, and their talk had been of the commondangers of that life.
"It was a very narrow escape," said the doctor.
"Crossing the harbour!" the stranger exclaimed. "Why, 'tis not twohundred yards!"
"'Twas my narrowest escape--and 'twas all because of Billy Topsail."
"Along o' _me_!" cried Billy.
"Ay," said the doctor; "'twas all along o' you. Some years ago," hecontinued, "when you were a toddler in pinafores, you were takensuddenly ill. It was a warm day in the spring of the year. The ice wasstill in the harbour, locked in by the rocks at the narrows, thoughthe snow had all melted from the hills, and green things were shootingfrom the earth in the gardens. The weather had been fine for a week,"the doctor continued, addressing the stranger, "Day by day the harbourice had grown more unsafe, until, when Billy was taken ill, only thedaring ventured to cross upon it.
"MY LITTLE LAD'S WONDERFUL SICK. COME QUICK!"]
"Billy's father came rushing into the surgery in a pitiable state ofgrief and fright. I knew when I first caught sight of his face thatBilly was ill.
"'Doctor,' said he, 'my little lad's wonderful sick. Come quick!'
"'Can we cross by the ice?' I asked.
"'I've come by that way,' said he. ''Tis safe enough t' risk. Makehaste, doctor, sir! Make haste!'
"'Lead the way!' said I.
"He led so cleverly that we crossed without once sounding the ice. Itwas a zigzag way--a long, winding course--and I knew the day after,though I was too intent upon the matter in hand to perceive it at themoment, that only his experience and acquaintance with the condition ofthe ice made the passage possible. After midnight, when my situationwas one of extreme peril, I realized that the way had been neither safefor me, who followed, nor easy for the man who led.
"'My boy is dying, doctor!' said the mother, when we entered the house.'Oh, save him!'
"My sympathy for the child and his parents,--they loved that lad--noless than a certain professional interest which takes hold of a youngphysician in such cases, kept me at Billy's bedside until long,long after dark. I need not have stayed so long--ought not to havestayed--for the lad was safe and out of pain; but in this far-awayplace a man must be both nurse and doctor, and there I found myself, ateleven o'clock of a dark night, worn out, and anxious only to reach mybed by the shortest way.
"'I thinks, sir,' said Billy's father, when I made ready to go, 'that Iwouldn't go back by the ice.'
"'Oh, nonsense!' said I. 'We came over without any trouble, and I'llfind my way back, never fear.'
"'I wisht you'd stay here the night,' said the mother. 'If you'll bide,sir, we'll make you comfortable.'
"'No, no,' said I. 'I must get to my own bed.'
"'If you'll not go round by the shore, sir,' said the man, 'leave mepilot you across.'
"'Stay with your lad,' said I, somewhat testily. 'I'll cross by theice.'
"''Twill be the longest way home the night,' said he.
"When a man is sleepy and worn out he can be strangely perverse. Iwould have my own way; and, to my cost, I was permitted to take it.Billy's father led me down to the landing-stage, put a gaff in my hand,and warned me to be careful--warned me particularly not to take a stepwithout sounding the ice ahead with my gaff; and he brought the littlelesson to an end with a wistful, 'I wisht you wouldn't risk it.'
"The tone of his voice, the earnestness and warm feeling with which hespoke, gave me pause. I hesitated; but the light in my surgery window,shining so near at hand, gave me a vision of comfortable rest, and Iput the momentary indecision away from me.
"'It is two hundred yards to my surgery by the ice,' I said, 'and itis two miles round the harbour by the road. I'm going by the shortestway.'
"'You'll find it the longest, sir,' said he.
"I repeated my directions as to the treatment of little Billy, thengave the man good-night, and stepped out on the ice, gaff in hand. Thethree hours following were charged with more terror and despair than,doubtless, any year of my life to come shall know. I am not morbidlyafraid of death. It was not that--not the simple, natural fear ofdeath that made me suffer. It was the manner of its coming--in thenight, with the harbour folk, all ignorant of my extremity, peacefullysleeping around me--the slow, cruel approach of it, closing in uponevery hand, lying all about me, and hidden from me by the night."
The doctor paused. He looked over the quiet water of the harbour.
"Yes," he said, repeating the short, nervous laugh, "it was a narrowescape. The sun of the afternoon--it had shone hot and bright--hadweakened the ice, and a strong, gusty wind, such a wind as breaks upthe ice every spring, was blowing down the harbour to the sea. It hadovercast the sky with thick clouds. The night was dark. Nothing more ofthe opposite shore than the vaguest outline of the hills--a blackershadow in a black sky--was to be seen.
"But I had the lamp in the surgery window to guide me, and I pushed outfrom the shore, resolute and hopeful. I made constant use of my gaffto sound the ice. Without it I should have been lost before I had gonetwenty yards. From time to time, in rotten places, it broke through theice with but slight pressure; then I had to turn to right or left, asseemed best, keeping to the general direction as well as I could allthe while.
"As I proceeded, treading lightly and cautiously, I was dismayed tofind that the condition of the ice was worse than the worst I hadfeared.
"'Ah,' thought I, with a wistful glance towards the light in thewindow, 'I'll be glad enough to get there.'
"There were lakes of open water in my path; there were flooded patches,sheets of thin, rubbery ice, stretches of rotten 'slob.' I was not evensure that a solid path to my surgery wound through these dangers; andif path there were, it was a puzzling maze, strewn with pitfalls, withdeath waiting upon a misstep.
"Had it been broad day, my situation would have been serious enough.In the night, with the treacherous places all covered up and hidden, itwas desperate. I determined to return; but I was quite as unfamiliarwith the lay of the ice behind as with the path ahead. A moment ofthought persuaded me that the best plan was the boldest--to push on forthe light in the window. I should have, at least, a star to guide me.
"'I have not far to go,' I thought. 'I must proceed with confidence anda common-sense sort of caution. Above all, I must _not_ lose my nerve.'
"It was easy to make the resolve; it was hard to carry it out. When Iwas searching for solid ice and my gaff splashed water, when the iceoffered no more resistance to my gaff than a similar mass of sea-foam,when my foothold bent and cracked beneath me, when, upon either side,lay open water, and a narrowing, uncertain path lay ahead, my nerve wassorely tried.
"At times, overcome by the peril I could not see, I stopped dead andtrembled. I feared to strike my gaff, feared to set my foot down,feared to quit the square foot of solid ice upon which I stood. Had itnot been for the high wind--high and fast rising to a gale--I shouldhave sat down and waited for the morning. But there were ominoussounds abroad, and, although I knew little about the ways of ice, Ifelt that the break-up would come before the dawn. There was nothingfor it but to go on.
"And on I went; but at last--the mischance was inevitable--my step wasbadly chosen. My foot broke through, and I found myself, of a sudden,sinking. I threw myself forward, and fell with my arms spread out; thusI distributed my weight over a wider area of ice and was borne up.
"For a time I was incapable of moving a muscle; the surprise, therush of terror, the shock of the fall, the sudden relief of findingmyself safe for the moment had stunned me. So I lay still, hugging theice; for how long I cannot tell, but I know that when I
recovered myself-possession my first thought was that the light was still burningin the surgery window--an immeasurable distance away. I must reach thatlight, I knew; but it was a long time before I had the courage to moveforward.
"Then I managed to get the gaff under my chest, so that I could throwsome part of my weight upon it, and began to crawl. The progress wasinch by inch--slow and toilsome, with no moment of security to lightenit. I was keenly aware of my danger; at any moment, as I knew, the icemight open and let me in.
"I had gained fifty yards or more, and had come to a broad lake, whichI must round, when the light in the window went out.
"'Elizabeth has given me up for the night,' I thought in despair. 'Shehas blown out the light and gone to bed.'
"There was now no point of light to mark my goal. It was very dark;and in a few minutes I was lost. I had the wind to guide me, it istrue; but I soon mistrusted the wind. It was veering, it had veered, Ithought; it was not possible for me to trust it implicitly. In whateverdirection I set my face I fancied that the open sea lay that way.
"Again and again I started, but upon each occasion I had no soonerbegun to crawl than I fancied that I had mischosen the way. Of courseI cried for help, but the wind swept my frantic screams away, and noman heard them. The moaning and swish of the gale, as it ran past thecottages, drowned my cries. The sleepers were not alarmed.
"Meanwhile that same wind was breaking up the ice. I could hear thecracking and grinding long before I felt the motion of the pan uponwhich I lay. But at last I did feel that mass of ice turn and gentlyheave, and then I gave myself up for lost.
"'Doctor! Doctor!'
"The voice came from far to windward. The wind caught my answeringshout and carried it out to sea.
"'They will not hear me,' I thought. 'They will not come to help me.'
"The light shone out from the surgery window again. Then lightsappeared in the neighbouring houses, and passed from room to room.There had been an alarm. But my pan was breaking up! Would they find mein time? Would they find me at all?
"Lanterns were now gleaming on the rocks back of my wharf. Half a dozenmen were coming down on the run, bounding from rock to rock of thepath. By the light of the lanterns I saw them launch a boat on the iceand drag it out towards me. From the edge of the shore ice they let itslip into the water, pushed off and came slowly through the openinglanes of water, calling my name at intervals.
"The ice was fast breaking and moving out. When they caught my hailthey were not long about pushing the boat to where I lay. Nor, you maybe sure, was I long about getting aboard."
The doctor laughed nervously.
"Doctor," said the stranger, "how did they know that you were indistress?"
"Oh," said the doctor, "it was Billy's father. He was worried, andwalked around by the shore. When he found that I was not home, heroused the neighbours."
"As the proverb runs," said the stranger, "the longest way round issometimes the shortest way home."
"Yes," said the doctor, "I chose the longest way."