A Gentleman of Courage

en set down as a matter of history, and a hundred tales could be told of the ships that went down and the men who died in

To Pierre and his people this was of strange and mysterious portent, for though they had seen many storms at Five Fingers there had never been on

es, and they had to scream to be heard, and it[27] whipped their long hair loose until they were like panting naiads, clinging to Pierre's hands, their eyes shining and their hearts thrilled with the excitement of the adventure. Pierre, laughing, told Josette s

and dripping rampart of rock that held back the raging waters Josette clung to him i

ared gray-faced out to sea. There was a twi

imes when the water rippled between them in wide paths of green silver. Through this network of waiting traps ran the channel in which the tug made her way to and from the Middle Finger. But there wa

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rock which rose from it like the spines of a huge fin. Her tall masts were gone. A mass of wreckage tangled her deck, and Pierre fancied that even above the roar of the surf he could hear the crash of her rending timbers as she rose and fell in mighty sledge-h

and horror, for very clearly in that moment they saw a moving figure

ed back i

must help them." Then he turned to Marie Antoinette and placed his mouth close

teady fire. She was looking on death. She could almost hear the cries of death. Her glance met Pierre's, and her lips moved, but he did not hear her words. It was then, looking again toward what little remained of the schooner, that they saw something sweeping in

outed Pierre, "and

rose shrill

s a w

he saw it was a woman. Her face was a ghost's face in the surf mist, and her drenched hair streamed upon the rock as the water ebbed away. She seemed

Blood streaked one of her soft cheeks where she had stumbled against a sharp-edged rock coming down. But her eyes were filled with a strange and unchanging fire, and she fell upon her knees among the stones to unlace one of Pierre's boots while he freed himself of the oth

, thrusting her up and then dragging her back, and almost she prayed that God would take her and cover her completely with the sea so that Pierre might turn back. For a little her courage left her and she called wildly upon Pierre to return, telling him sh

tion. He knew what it meant to be carried beyond the rock into that deadly place which they called the Pit. There he would die. He would be pulled down by the undertows, and a little later, when they were done with him, his body wo

linging to it, facing the woman. She was as white as he had seen Josette. Her eyes were as dark, and there was something in them that was more terrible to look at than fear. Pierre was exhausted. He drew himself up a

ooked at him from a mass of jet-black hair that dripped with water and clung about her neck and shoulders like silken strands of seaweed. It was as if a vision had crept up from the foaming surf to taunt him, a vision of a face he had painted in his dreams and had prayed for and hoped for all through the years of his life, and he dash

houted. "You must not give up

s face to

d y

emed to him, were too beautiful for a child's eyes. Her lips were still red. But her face was the color of a white cameo in

Another wave broke against the rock, smotheri

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hed his shoulder. "This is my baby. Her father-went down-

them. When it was gone Pie

ill come back for you. It will be easy-easy for all

for mother. He even laughed as he told her how safely and quickly it could be done. And then he kissed her; there on the rock Pierre Gourdon kissed the soft little mouth he had prayed for so many years, and bowed his head a moment, asking God to help him. Then he lay flat on hi

rents reached out like the tentacles of an octopus and tried to drag him into the doom of the Pit. But it was not Pierre Gourdon alone who was fighting for the right to live. The woman on the rock was fighting for him, and the woman ashore-standing to her waist in the boilin

d her face looking up at him from his breast. He had kept her above the water-that had been the never faltering thought in his mind; and now there seemed to be something of awe, of revere

tte's arms, and Pier

own, she was limp, a dark blot without life or[35] resistance, and he saw a huge wave drive up and move her like a sodden chip a little nearer to the edge of the

, knowing that only Pierre Gourdon was master of himself and of life and death in this hour. He had never seen such eyes as theirs-Josette's in their agony o

he said. "It will

t of the sea he made as if he did not hear Josette calling wildly to him that help would surely come in a few minutes, and he must wait. A few minute

That was all he prayed for now, all he hoped for. It was inconceivable for his imagination to go beyond those things-the rock, the woman, a jutting tooth of reef to hang to for their lives. He could feel death all about him as he fought and swam. It struck at him, choked him, blinded him, dragged

in his ears. It was like the droning hum of the saw in the mill. For a moment he rested. He could not see the top of the rock, but he

, fear and futile warning. The woman had slipped to the very edge of the rock-the edge

the wet mass of it. In that moment the sea took her. It dragged her down, and Pierre, holding fast to her hair, went with her into the black death of the Pit; and as he went his wide eyes saw once more the blue

de no effort to fight, except to hold her. To fight against the forces which had him in their power was impossible. He was like a chip in a boiling pot, twisted and turned, now thrust downward and then up, but never far enough to snatch a br

her eyes[38] fell on little Mona. The wind had blown the child's wet hair back from her face, and a bitter cry came to Josette's lips and resentment burned in her for an instant like a fire. Pierre was gone because of her, because of this beautiful, sta

moth

happened about her. Dominique stood between her and the sea, even as he saw the grim joke which the fiends of the Pit were playing upon them this day. For these fiends were seldom known to give up their playthings, whether logs or sticks or living things. Once he had known them to keep the body of a dog for d

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. She staggered to her feet and ran past Dominique, and the first she looked upon was the white, dead face of the mother. Very t

and Marie Antoinette hid little Mona's face against her while Simon McQuarrie and Telesphore Clamart bore the dead woman between them round the end of the cliff. And Josette kept repeating, "He isn't dead, he isn't dead," and

er. Josette's eyes turned to look at her and they were soft and glowing and so strange they frightened

and drew back Josette's hair, her heart suddenly throbbing like an Indian drum. Then she saw it was not the madness of grief that kept Josette repeating those words, but the intuit

toinette drew a little back Josette caught the child close to her, along with Pierre, and as Pierre reached his arms up