Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 June 1885 — PETHERICK'S PERIL. [ARTICLE]

PETHERICK'S PERIL.

A PRIZE STORY. Each story, of the Shelton Cotton Factory is fifteen feet between floors; there are seven such over the basement, and this rises six feet above the ground. The brick walls narrow to eight inches as they ascend, and form a parapet rising above the roof. One of the timekeepers in the factory, J ack Hardy, a young man about my own age, often runs along the brick work, tjie practice giving him a singular delight that has seemed to increase with his proficiency in it Having been a clerk in the works from the beginning, I have frequently •Used the parapet for a foot-path, and although there was a sheer fail of 100 feet to the ground, have done it with ease and without dizziness. Occasionally Hardy and I have run races, on the opposite walls, an exercise in which I was invariably beaten, because I became timid with increase of pace. Hopelessly distanced last Wednesday, while the men were off at noon, I gave up midway, and looking down, observed the upturned face of an old man, gazing at me with parted lips, wide eyes, and an expression of ’horror, so startling that I involuntarily stepped down to the bricklayers’ platform inside. I then saw that the apparently frightened spectator was Mr. Petherick, who has been for some weeks paymaster and factotum for the contractors. “What’s the matter, Petherick?" I called down. He made no answer, but walking off rapidly disappeared round the mill. Curious about his demeanor, I descended, and after some little seeking. found him smoking alone. “You quite frightened me just now, Petherick,” said I. “Did you think I was a ghost ?” “Not just that,” he replied, sententiously. “Did you expect me to fall, then ?” I inquired. “N,ot just that, either, said he. The old man was clearly disinclined to talk, and apparently much agitated. I began to joke him about his lugubrious expression, when the 1 o’clock bell rang, and he shuffled off hastily to another quarter. Though I puzzled awhile over the incident, it soon passed so entirely from my mind that I was surprised when, passtag Petherick in the afternoon, intending to go aloft, he said as I went by: “Don’t do it again, Mr. Frazer." “What?” I stopped. “That!” he retorted. “ Oh! You mean running on the wall, ” said I. “I mean going on it at all!” he exclaimed. His earnestness was so marked that I conceived a strong interest in its cause. “I’ll make a bargain with you, Mr. Petherick. If you will tell me why yon advise me, I’ll give the thing up.” “Done!” said he. “Come to my cottage this evening, and I’ll tell you a strange adventure of my own, though perhaps you’ll only laugh that it’s the reason why it sickens me to see you fooling up there.” Petherick was ready to talk when Jack and I sat down on his doorstop that evening, and immediately launched into the following narrative: 1 “I was born and grew to manhood near the high cliffs of the coast of Cornwall. Millions of sea-fowls make their nests along the face of those wave-worn precipices. My companions and I used to get much excitement, and sometimes a good deal of pocket-money, by taking their eggs. One of us, placing his feet in a loop at the end of a rope and taking a good grip with his hands, would be lowered by the others to the nest. “When he had his basket full, they’d haul him up, and another would go down. Well, one afternootf; I thus went dangling off. They paid out about a hundred feet of rope before I touched the ledge and let go.” “What ledge?” asked Jack. “Oh!” said Petherick. after a pause. “I see it will be troublesome to make you understand the situation.” Then, after reflecting for some moments—- “ Yon must know that most of the cliffs along that coast overhang the sea. At many points one. could drop 600 feet into the sea, and then be forty or fifty feet from the base of the rock fie left The coast is scooped under by the waves. But in some places the cliff wall is as though it had been eaten away by seas once running in on higher levels. There will be an overhanging .coping, then, some hundred feet down, a ledge sticking out further than that of the top; under that ledge all will be scooped In places there are three or four such ledges, each projecting further than those above. These ledges used to fall away occasionally; as they do yet, I am, told, for the ocean is gradually devouring that coast Where they did not project further than the upper coping, one would swing like a pendulum on the rope,and get on the rock, .if not too far in, then put a rock on the rope to hold it till his return. When a ledge did project so that one could drop straight on it, he hauled down some slack and left the rope hanging.” “Did the wind ever blow it off?” asked Jack. t . “Seldom, and never out of - reach,” said the old man. “Well, the ledofe J reached was like this,” illustrating with his hands. “It was some ten feq| wide; it stack ont maybe six feet further than

the,cliff top; the rock jfrall went up pretty near perpendicular till,near the coping at the grdund, but the ledge the cliff’s face was so scooped awjry that the sea, 500 feet below, ran in under it nigh fifty feet “As I went down thousands of birds rose from the jagged places of the precipice, circling arouns me with harsh screams. Soon touching the ledge, I stepped from the loop, and drawing down a little slack, walked off briskly. For fully quarter of a mile the ledge ran along the cliff’s face almost as level and even in width as that sidewalk. I remember fancying that it sloped outward more than usual, but instantly dismissed the notion, though Gaffer Pentreath, the oldest man in that countryside, used to tell us that we should not get the use of' that ledge always. It-had been os steady in our time as in his grandfather’s, and we only laughed at his prophecies. Yet the place of an old filled fissure was marked by a line of grass, by tufts of weeds, and small bushes, stretching almost as far as the ledge itself, and within a foot or so qf the cliff’s face. “Eggs were not so many as usual, and I went a long piece from my rope before turning back. Then I noticed the very strange conduct of the hosts of sea-fowls below. Usually there were hundreds, but now there were millions on the wing; and instead of darting forth in playful motions, they seemed to be wildly excited, screaming shrilly, rushing out in terror, and returning in masses as though to alight, only to wheel in dread and keep the air in vast clouds.

“The weather was beautiful; the sea like glass. At no great distance two large brigs, and nearer a small yacht, lay becalmed, heaving on the long billows. I could look down her cabin stairway almost, and it seemed scarcely more than a long leap to her deck. “Puzzled by the singular conduct of the sea-birds, I soon stopped and set my back against the cliff to rest while watching them. The day was deadly still and very warm. “I remember taking off my cap and whiping the sweat from my face and forehead with my sleeve. While doing this, I looked down involuntarily to the niy feet, Instantly my blood almost froze with horror! There was a distinct crack between the inner edge of the fissure and the root-threaded soil with which it was filled! Forcibly I pressed back, and in a flash looked along the ledge. The fissure was widening under my eyes, the rock before me seemed sinking putward, and with a shudder; and a groan and roar, the whole long platform fell crashing to the sea below! I stood on a margin of rock scarce a foot, wide, at my back a perpendicular cliff, and 500 feet below the ocean, now almost hidden by the vast concourse of wheeling and affrighted birds. “Can you believe that my first sensation was one of relief? I stood safe! Even a feeling of interest held me for some moments. Almost coolly I observed a long and mighty wave roll out from beneath. It went forth with a high, curling crest—a solid wall of water! It struck the yacht stern on, plunged down on her deck, smashed through her swell of sail, and swept her out of sight forever. “Not until then did my thoughts dwell entirely on my own position; not till then did I comprehend its hopelessness. Now, my eyes closed convulsively, to shut out the abyss down which my glance had fallen; shuddering. I pressed hard against the solid wall at my back, an appalling cold slowly crept through me. My- reason struggled against a wild desire to leap; all the demons of despair whispered to me to make an instant end. In imagination I had leaped. I felt the swooning helplessness of falling, and the cold, upward rush of air!

“Still I pressed hard against the wall of rock, and though nearly faint with terror, never forgot for an instant the death at my feet, nor the utter danger of the slightes motion. How long this weakness lasted I knew not; I only know that the unspeakable horror of that first period has come to me in waking dreams many and many a day since; that I have long nights of that deadly, fear; that to think of the past is to stand again on that narrow foothold, and to look around on the earth is often to cry out with joy that it widens away from my feet.” The old man paused long. Glancing sidewise at Jack, I saw that his face was paflid. I myself had shuddered and grown cold, so strongly had my imagination realized the awful experience that Patherick described. “Suddenly,” said the old man, “these words flashed to my brain: ‘Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing ? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. Fear not, there-, fore; ye are of more value than many sparrows.’ My faculties so strained, I seemed to hear the words.--Indeed, often yet I think that I did truly hear a voice utter them very near me “Instantly hope arose, consciously desperate indeed, but I became calm, resourceful, capable, and feeling unaccountably aided. Careful not to look down, I opened my eyes and gazed far away over the bright sea. The rippled billows told that a light outward.breeze had sprung up. Slowly, and somewhat more distant, the two brigs moved toward the horizon. Turning my head, I could trace the narrow stone of my footing to where my rope dangled, perhaps 3OO.yq,rds distant. s ,» “It seemed to hang within easy reach of the cliff face, and instantly I resolved and as instantly I proceeded to work toward it. No time remained for hesitation. Night was coming on. I reasoned that my comrades thought me killed. They had probably gone to view the new condition of the precipice from the lower station, and on their return would haul up and carry off the rope. I made a move toward it. Try to think of that journey!” * ' I nodded to him silently. “Shuffling sidewise very carefully, I had not made five yards before 1 knew that I could not continue to lookout over that abyss without glaneing down, and that I could not glance down without taking my senses. You have the brick line to keep eyes on as you Walk along the factory wall; do you tnink you could move along it erect, looking down as you would have to ? Yet it is only 100 feet high. Imagine five more

such walls on top of that, and you trying to move sidewise—incapable of closing your eyes, forced to look down, from end to end, yes, three times further! Imagine you’ve got 'to go on or jump off! Would you not, in an ecstaey of nervous agitatiop, fall to your knees, get down face-first at full length, clutch by your hands and with shut eyes feel your way ? I longed to lie down and hold, but of course that was impossible.” * “Still there was a wall at your back," observed Jack. “That made it worse! The cliff seemed to press outward against me. It did, in fact, incline very slightly'olit'warde. It seemed to be thrusting me off. Oh, the horror of that sensation! Your toes qn the edge of a precipice, and the implacable, calm mountain apparently freighting ,yoh slowly forward!” Beads of . sweat broke out over his white face at the horror he had called before him. Wiping his lips nervously with the back of his hand, and looking askant, as at the narrow pathway, lie paused Jong. I saw its cruel edge and the dark gleams of its abysmal water. “I knew,” he resumed, “that with my back to the wall I could never reach the rope. I could not face toward it and step forward, so narrow was the ledge. Motion was perhaps barely possible that way, but the breadth of my shoulders would have ■ forced me to lean somewhat more outward, and this I dared not and could not do. Also to see a solid surface before me became an irresistible desire. I resolved to try to turn around before resuming the desperate journey. To do tliis I had to nerve myself for one steady look at my footing.

“In the depth below the myriad seafowl then rested on the black water, which, though swelling more,, with the rising wind, had yet an unbroken surface at some little distance from the precipice, while further out it began to jump to white caps, and in beneath me, where I could not see, it dashed and churned with a faint, pervading roar that I could hardly distinguish. Before the descending sun a heavy bank of cloud had arisen. The ocean’s surface bore that appearance of intense and angry gloom that often heralds a storm, but save the deep murmur going out from far below my perch, all to my hearing was deeply still. “Cautiously I swung my right foot before the other and carefully edged around. For an instant, as my shoulder rubbed agaiust the rock, I felt that I must fall. I did stagger, in fact, but the next moment stood firm, face to the beetling cliff, my heels on the very edge, and the new sensation of the abyss behind me no less horrible than that from which I had with sufficulty escape. I stood quaking. A delirous horror thrilled every nerve. The skin about my ears and neck, suddenly cold, shrank convulsively. 1 “Wild with fear, I thrust forward my head against the rock and rested in agony. A whir and wind of sudden wings made me conscious of outward things again. Then a mad eagerness to climb swept away other feelings and my hands attempted in vain to elutch the rock. Not daring to cast my head backward, I drew it tortoise-like betweqfa my> raised shoulders and chin against the precipice, and gazed upward with strained vision from under my eyebrows.

“Far above the dead wall stretched. Sidewise glances gave me glimpses of the projecting summit coping. There was no hope in that direction. But the distraction of scanning the cliffside given my strained nerves some relief ; to my memory again returned the promise of the Almighty, and the consciousness of his regard. Once more my muscles became firm-strung. “ A cautious step sideways made me know how much I had gained in ease and security of motion by the change of front. I made progress that seemed almost rapid for some rods, and even had exultation in my quick approach to the rope. Hence came freedom to think how I would act on reaching it, and speculation as to how soon my comrades would haul me up. “Then the idea rushed through me that they might even yet draw it away too soon; that, while almost in my clutches, it might raise my hands. Instantly all the terrors of my position returned with tenfold force; an outward thrust of the precipice seemed to grow distinct, my trembling hands told me that it moved bodily toward me, the descent behind me took an unspeakable remoteness, and from the utmost depth of that sheer air sCemed to ascend steadily a deadly and a chilling wind. But I think I did not stop for an instant Instead, a delerium to move faster possessed me, and with quick, sidelong steps—my following foot striking hard against that before—sometimes on the point of stumbling, stretched out like the crucified, I passed in mortal terror along. “Every possible accident and delay was presented to my brain. What if „the ledge should narrow sudden ly to nothing ? Now I believed th at my heels were unsupported in air, and I moved along on tip-toe. Now I was convinced that the narrow pathway sloped outward, that this slope had becomh so distinct, so increasingly distinct, that I might at any moment slip off into the Void. But dominating every consideration of possible disaster was still that of the speed, and distinct amid all other terrors was that sensation of the dead wall ever silently and inexorably pressing me outward, ■' “My mouth and throat were choked with dryness, my convulsive lips parched and arid; much I longed to press them against the cold, moist stone. But I never stopped. Faster, faster —more wildly I stepped—in a delirium I pushed along. Then suddenly before my staring eyes was a well-re-membered edge of mossy stone, and I knew that the rope should be directly behind me. Was it? “I glanced over my left shoulder. The rope was not to be spun! Wildly I Jpoked over the other—no rope! Almighty God! and hast thou deserted me? - - , “But what! Yes, it moves I >it sways in sight ! it disappears—to return agaip to view! There was the rope direct! J at my back, swinging in the strorq breeze with a motion that had carried it away from my first hurried glances.

With the relief tears pressed to mJ eyes and—face bowed to the precipice, almost forgetful for a Tittle time of the hungry (air ! beneath—l offered deep thanks to my God for the delivery that seemed so near.” The old man’s lips continued Jo move but no sound came from them. We waited silent While, with closed eyes and bent head he remained absorbed in the recollection of that strange minute of devoutness. “I stood there,” he said at Jal, “for what now sterns a space of hours, perhar s half a minute in reality. Then all the chances still to be run crowded upon me. To turn around had been an attempt almost desperate before,, arid certainly, most certainly, the ledge was ho wider where I now stood. Was the rope within ' reach ? I feared not. Would it sway toward me. I could hope for that. ' ' >■ ' But could I grasp it should Ibe saved ? Would it not yield to my hand —coming slowly down as I pulled, unrolling from a coil above, trailing over the ground at thej top, running fast as its end approached the edge, falling suddenly at last? «< Or was it fastened to the accustomed stake? Was any Comrade near who would summon aid at my signal? If not, and I grasped it, and if it held, hpw long should I swing in the wind that now bore the freshness and tremors of an imminent gale? “Now again hold on me, and, as a desperate* man, I prepared to turn my face once more to the vast expanse of water and nothing beyond that awful cliff. Closing my eyes, I writhed, with I know not what motions, easily around till again my back pressed against the precipice. That was a restful sensation. And now for the decision of my fate! I looked at the rope. Not for a moment could I fancy it within m.y reach. Its swayings were not, as I had expected, even, slightly inward, but when falling back against the wind it swung outward as though the air were eddying from the wall. “Now I gazed down steadily. Would h leap be certain death? The water was of immense depth below. But what chance of striking it feet or head first? What chance of preserving consciousness in the descent? No, the leap would be death; that, at least, was clear. “Again I turned to the rope. I was now perfectly desperate, but steady, nerved beyond the best moments of my life, good for an effort surpassing the human. Still the rope swayed as before, and its motion was very regular. I saw that I could touch it at any point of its gyration by a strong leap. “But could I grasp it? What use if it were not firmly secured above? But all time for hesitation had gone by. I knew too well that strength was mine ( but for a moment, and that in the next reaction of weakness I should drop from the wall like a dead fly. Bracing myself, I watched the rope steadily for one round, and, as it returned against the wind, jumped straight out over the heaving Atlantic. “By God’s aid I reached, touched, clutched, held the strong line. And it held! Not alsolutely. Once, twice, and again it gave, gave with jerks that tried my&rms. I knew these indicated but tightening: Then it held firm, arid I swung, turning in the air, secure above the waves that beat below. \ “To slide dowii and place my feet in the loop was the instinctive work of a moment. Fortunately it was of dimensions to admit my body barely. I slipped it over my thighs up to my armpits just as the dreaded reaction of weakness came. Then Host consciousness. “When I awakened my dear mother’s face was beside my pillow, and she told me that I had been tossing for a fortnight in brain fever. Many weeks I lay there, and when I got strong found that I had left my nerve on that awful cliffi-side. Never since have I been able to look from a height or see any other human being on one without shuddering. “So now you know the story, Mr. Frazer, and have had your last walk on the factory wall.” He spoke truer than he knew. His story has given me such horrible nightmares ever since that I could no more walk on the high brickwork than along that narrow ledge in distant Cornwall. —E. JK Thomson, in Youth's Companion.