now through the bursting heart of that great storm the american prisoners struggled on their way. none spoke; for all believed that death strode beside them and came closer with each savage thrust of the northern wind. about them the snow already lay in a heavy carpet and upon the moor, in gorges and old, deep ravines, an icy dust was piling into drifts that would only vanish with the suns of april. the gale blew with gigantic but irregular outbursts, so that it seemed as if fingers invisible on cruel hands stretched out of the night to tear their garments off them. the spirit of the storm escaped from its icy chambers, swept chill around them, and each breath they drew cut sharp to their lungs as the men panted onward.
south of prince town roll high and open heaths, whereon, under the tremendous impetus of the tempest, the snow was swept horizontally. it fell, only to be gathered up again and launched forward in writhing wisps and veils. along these level heights commodore miller, stark, and knapps made their way; then when each heart sank low and every sanguine pulse was nearly frozen, they touched the skirts of the young plantations at tor royal and hoped again. half a mile distant the hospitality of sir thomas tyrwhitt had been at their command, and the knight had gladly closed stout doors between the wanderers and death; but of the establishment within these snow-bound young forests they knew nothing. their thought was the cabin of lovey lee, concerning the position of which she had made them clear; and now they held on to the end of the wood, then turned a compass-point southward and faced the moor again.
cecil stark at length spoke, and shouted into the commodore's ear.
"we're on the right road. we may pull through after all."
"save your breath and keep together," answered the older man. "i have some fight in me yet."
"and you, jimmy?"
"i wish i was ter prison."
"blame yourself that you're not," panted stark.
"i duz," answered the sailor. "i s'pose there's no grizzly bars snooking around these parts? i thought i squinted something back away."
"no; but there are stone crosses; and one stands nigh lovey lee's. hit that and we're saved."
"miss it and—but no use to wherrit. 'tis a very good end. i knew a chap as slept hisself out of life very comfortable on such a night. narry a pang; and i found him in the morning froze to the marrow, and smiling about it, like he was a statue in church. better than a bagonet in your belly, anyhow."
"drop that talk, bo'sun. we'll win yet!"
they fought on silently, but the pace became slower as their force abated and the snow increased. now they felt the full strength of the wind, and nature instinctively made them turn and edge away from it.
"hold to your left, lads, or we are done for!" cried miller. "keep the wind on the port bow."
"be damned if i kin suffer it against my cheek any more," answered knapps. "my ear and jaw are just frozen and my left eye's bunged up with ice."
twice more stark addressed the sailor, but received no answer. then, turning again, he found one shadow beside him instead of two.
"is that you, stark?"
"ay, sir."
"where's knapps?"
"i'm afraid he's lost, sir. he would hold off a point. had i sought him, i must have lost you."
"shout—shout with all your might. we may save him yet."
they lifted their voices, but the piping of them was gulfed in the roar of the wind. the ice poured out of the darkness, and, despite the snow-blink, an awful circumambient gloom hid all things from their eyes. only the wan upthrown illumination at their feet told of the snow beneath.
"i implore you to be moving, sir. right or wrong, we must hold on now," cried stark, for he saw that his companion seemed to hesitate.
"knapps may be right. can we have got too far east? however, 'tis all one. blessed sleep's ahead, my poor boy. 'tis good to die in the great hand of god and not behind stone walls."
"don't speak of dying, commodore. get closer; take my arm and husband your strength as you may."
stark closed up on the other's left hand between his friend and the weather; but miller appreciated the action and fought against it.
"you shall not do this for me. i'm tougher, older, better seasoned!"
"for love of life, speak no more," stark answered. "hold close. we may save each other."
now arm in arm, or sometimes hand in hand, but never apart, they battled through a dread hour of agony. often they fell and bruised themselves upon ice and granite; often they dropped headlong into some snow-hidden rift; then surmounting it, they struggled on again, half blind, half strangled. despite their tremendous exertions, no warmth to fight the wind, no heat of blood could either generate. they froze as they fought and their progress became very slow. they grew conscious of sloping land and passed where hills of stone rose to the right, while the storm, from lower levels, leapt upwards as it seemed out of some dark crater on the left of them. they had missed siward's cross by miles and now wandered under fox tor above the mire. each yearned to lie down and end it; and each knew that a longing to yield was in the heart of the other. for a moment they stood in deep snow where great rocks towered and broke the wind. then commodore miller addressed stark, and his dreamy, placid utterance sounded strange in the fury of the hour. shouts and a frenzy of fear or of energy had better, chimed with the free and fearful forces of the air; but the american spoke like a spirit and looked upon these material phenomena of night and tempest as one already above their influences and beyond their power.
"'tis a great thought that you and i are bigger than this weather. a man's soul can steer through the worst storm ever loosed against earth—steer a straight course and fear no evil of earth or sea. this dust of us will soon be ice, my lad. we shall sink into this frozen wilderness as rain falls on a river; but we ourselves——"
"hope on, hope on," gasped the younger man. "we'll fight the british weather as we've fought the british ships. there's a shot in the locker yet!"
they crawled forward, and stark, himself failing slowly, well knew that the increasing weight upon his arm must soon bring him to earth with his friend. miller was nearly spent. he began to speak fitfully, but rambled in his speech, and discussed men and matters beyond his companion's knowledge. for ten minutes they pressed on, but advanced little more than two hundred yards in the time. snow still fell, though less heavily, and it seemed to stark that the wind abated a trifle, but he could not be sure, for sensation was almost dead. his legs felt nothing, even when he struck them against the stones. they had followed a wide slope of the land, and now stood in the very shadow of death where childe the hunter's ruined cenotaph had risen, and where legend pointed to the sportsman's place of passing even on such a night, and in such an hour.
there was a sudden rent in the snow-clouds at this moment, for out of heaven burst a blast so awful that it tore the inky curtains of the storm, swept the air clear along its hurricane ways and brought a fleeting glimmer of light to earth. in the black chasm opened on high reeled suns, and the flames of bygone ages flashed into the eyes of dying men. then those silvery star-fires were swallowed up again, and the tempest, shrieking like a fury, tumbled its pall over them to lift it no more. yet in that blast another light than those of the indifferent universe had touched upon cecil stark's fainting eyes. dear as the smile of a friend, as the sound of a voice, as the hand of a man stretched to save, he had marked a ruddy flash from one little window high aloft on the western face of fox tor farm. like a lighthouse lamp it hung above the chaos. it flashed serene and steadfast; then the blizzard thundered down again, and it vanished behind the snow.
"all's over, old fellow," said jonathan miller. "i'm done for—fought and lost, and glad to go. my heart's stopping. go on—good-bye."
"look, man, look! right ahead! ah! 'tis blotted again; but i saw it clear enough—lifted above us—a light."
"i shall see it too—held out of heaven to guide us. god is kind. the road's always clear to him."
"be of good cheer yet! 'twas an earthly light i saw—ruddy and heart-warming! don't—don't—give up the fight when we're so near—one effort more—one——"
for answer the other's hand relaxed, and he fell suddenly face downwards.
stark instantly bent to raise his friend, but he could not. himself he dropped to his knees; then, with a great struggle, stood again upon his freezing feet.
"go, lad—go," said the fallen man. "by stopping you slay us both. hold on to the light if you can. speed—speed! death is alongside now—ready to board——"
stark knew the truth of this, and, striving in vain to note some mark that should indicate where miller lay, he turned whence the light had shone.
"trust me then. i'll get back in time! don't sleep—keep shouting—keep shouting. we'll save you yet!"
stark spoke cheerily as though already in the company of other men; but his hope perished as he turned and saw his friend a silent spot in the darkness—already half obliterated by snow. a sob rose in the man's throat, and he felt a tear like a spark of fire upon his cheek.
"the end of him—the cruel, bitter end of a great sailor and a good man. god's curse on those that murdered him!"
the cry came thickly and the shrieking wind carried it away. stark staggered against the hill, sometimes upon his feet, sometimes on his knees. the light gleamed fitfully and directed him across the storm. now it vanished behind curtains of snow; now it broke through once more, placid of flame and mellow of hue. higher it towered and higher, until it seemed to the wanderer immediately above him. but even as he looked up to it, the sailor fell into a little rivulet and struggled with fresh bruises on to the further bank. a steep slope still subtended the space between himself and the shining window. the light beckoned him forward and forces unseen denied any further advance. he could stand no longer, but grovelled on yard by yard. then a wall buried in the snow, raised a barrier, mountainous to his feebleness, and he remained motionless beneath it for a full minute. peace was there and delicious silence. the snow warmed him; the coverlet crept up and up. it was pulled over his breast, neck, head, by gentle hands. he remembered his mother and her cradle-songs in his childhood. "'tis the great mother tucking me up," he thought. for a moment, as it seemed, the glow of health and vigour drove his blood along. life was kissing him and saying 'good-bye.' his eyes shut; all present things began to sink away out of his mind. he smiled indifferently and, turning back along the pathway of consciousness, retraced his life's short road and passed its memories in final review. he remembered the defeat of the marblehead and felt the sharp grief of failure. he saw the 'stars and stripes' flutter down, as the dying see their last sun sink; and that darkest emotion of his days reawakened now, mercifully held force enough to shatter the snow-trance. he opened his eyes, found an impulse of restored energy from his short respite, saw the light clear and sharp above, and surmounted the stone wall, but fell prone upon the other side. then, with a sort of savage thankfulness that the last stage in the long fight was come, he rolled and crawled thirty yards more, and reached within twenty feet of fox tor farm.
powerless to lift a finger more, he lay there, stared at the light and blinked his eyes to keep the snow out of them, that the image of that shining window might remain clear. its radiance would brighten his end, and the idea strangely comforted him. his wits reeled again; he prayed a wild prayer: he began to long for life with all his might, and the desire towards it poured in a frantic torrent over him. a signal set within his eyes by man smiled upon him, but he could not reach it. thrice he shouted to miller to follow him; to shout for his own salvation did not strike his mind; and whilst he cried aloud for the third time, the storm, that had increased to sweep the snow clear of one bright window, lulled, and for a moment drew a long, sobbing breath, ere it shrieked again. in that oasis of silence the man poured out his last cry to his friend; but only the raving voices from above answered it, for miller had long passed beyond sense.
and yet, behind the granite of the farm were wakeful ears. aloft grace malherb lay sleepless, while she watched a great heap of snow gather upon her bedroom hearth. the taper that was leading stark to salvation beamed steadfastly to him; to grace, under her blankets, it staggered and reeled and guttered, and fought strange draughts that crept through unknown chinks and crannies. then, the hour being eleven, there fell that awful simultaneous suspiration of breath in the yelling throats of the storm. a mysterious silence touched the night and in the moment of it a human cry—wild and faint—reached the girl's straining ear. no other heard it, for though malherb walked below, uneasy before the onset of this hurricane, his dwelling lay between him and the lost man, while for the rest all that household slept in peace.
now did death huddle close over cecil stark, hide him, muffle his speech, and steal his senses one by one; yet with his last throb of consciousness the sailor shouted on to miller, and before his voice stilled and his life was in the act to close, grace malherb had reached her father where he walked and told her news. he showed much doubt, yet lost not a moment, and the last weak cry of the man in the snow saluted beer and malherb as they crept round the southern front of the farm with a lantern.
"miller! miller! mil——!"
then they heard no more, but guided by the voice, struggled across the snow to it and fell over a fellow-creature.
battered, bleeding, apparently lifeless, beer and his master discovered cecil stark; and they picked him up and thanked god and carried him into fox tor farm.
