# The Green Ray/Chapter XX
## CHAPTER XX. FOR HELENA'S SAKE.

A few moments later, Oliver Sinclair, having rapidly crossed the causeway, reached the entrance of the cave, near the steps cut in the rock.
The brothers and Partridge followed him closely, but Dame Bess remained in Clam-shell Cave, waiting with inexpressible anxiety, and getting everything ready to receive Helena on her return.
The sea had already risen high enough to cover the ledge of rock forming the foot-path; it was dashing over the hand-rail, and made it quite out of the question to enter the cave this way.
As it was impossible to enter by this path, it was equally impossible for any one to get out of the cavern, and if Miss Campbell were there, she must be quite a prisoner! But how could they ascertain this, and how could they reach her?
“Helena! Helena!”
Could she possibly hear this name through the ceaseless crashing of breakers? A wild uproar of wind and waves filled the cavern, and it was of little use to look or call.
“Perhaps Helena is not there,” said Sam, who would willingly have clung to this hope.
“But where else can she be then?” replied his brother.
“Yes! where else can she be?” cried Sinclair. “Have I not searched for her in vain, in every nook and corner of the island? Would she not have returned before this if she could have done so? She is there!—there!”
And then they remembered the rash wish, which the imprudent young girl had often expressed, to see a storm in Fingal's Cave. Had she then forgotten that the sea, in a storm, would rise higher and higher, till it made the cave a prison from which it would be impossible to escape?
What could they now do in order to rescue her?
The hurricane was venting its full force on this corner of the island, and sometimes the waves rose above the archway of the cave, where they broke with a deafening roar, and then fell back in sheets of foam, like the cataracts of Niagara, but the body of water rushed with overwhelming force, right into the cave, like a torrent suddenly overleaping its barrier, so that the farther end of the cavern received its full force.
In what niche could Miss Campbell have found a refuge which would not have been assailed by such terrific breakers? The arch of the cave was directly exposed to their force, and in their rise and fall they must have swept the foot-path with irresistible fury.
But still they refused to believe that the rash young girl was there! How could she have withstood the force of such a sea? Would not her torn and mutilated body have been carried out by the retreating waters? Would not the currents have swept her past the rocky causeway, right up to Clam-shell Cave?
“Helena! Helena!”
This name was persistently shouted through the hubbub of wind and wave, but there was no answer.
“No! no! she cannot be in the cave!” replied the brothers in despair.
“She is there!” persisted Oliver Sinclair.
And he pointed to a piece of ribbon which a retreating wave had cast on the steps of the rock.
He rushed to seize it.
It was the snood which Miss Campbell wore on her hair. Was it possible to doubt now?
But then, if this ribbon had been torn from her, must not the same blow have crushed her against the rock?
“I will know!” cried Oliver Sinclair.
And taking advantage of a receding wave, which left the foot-way almost clear, he seized the hand-rail, but a heavy sea immediately dashed him on to the landing-place.
Had not Partridge, at the risk of his life, rushed forward and caught him, Sinclair would have rolled down the steps and been carried off by the sea without a chance of being rescued.
The young man struggled to his feet. His determination to enter the cave was not in the least shaken.
“Miss Campbell must be there!” he repeated; “and she is alive, since her body has hot been swept past us, like this strip of ribbon! It is quite possible that she may have found refuge in some recess. But her strength will soon give way, and she cannot hold out until the tide goes down. We must manage to reach her somehow!”
“I will go,” said Partridge.
“No; leave it to me,” replied Sinclair.
He was about to attempt the last means of saving Helena, and yet it was one chance in a hundred whether it would succeed.
“Wait here for us, gentlemen,” said he to the brothers, “and we will be back in five minutes. Come on, Partridge.”
The two brothers stood in a corner, sheltered by the cliff, out of reach of the waves whilst Oliver Sinclair and Partridge hurried back to Clam-shell Cave.
It was then half-past eight. Five minutes later the young man and Partridge reappeared, dragging along the causeway the boat which the skipper had left them.
Could Oliver be thinking of attempting to enter the cave by sea, since it was impossible to do so by land?
Yes, he was about to make that venture; he was risking his life, and he knew it, but that did not make him hesitate for a moment.
The boat was brought to the foot of the staircase, where it was sheltered from the surf behind a projecting rock.
“I am going with you,” said the old servant.
“No, Partridge,” replied Oliver, “we must not laden this light boat uselessly, and if Miss Campbell is yet alive, I shall be able to manage by myself.”
“Oliver,” cried the brothers, with tears in their eyes; “Oliver, save our child!”
The young man pressed their hands, then, springing into the boat, he seized the oars and skilfully pushed out into the eddying sea; then, waiting an instant for the reflux of an enormous wave, he was carried right in front of the cave. Here the boat was nearly upset; but, with a dextrous movement of the oars, Oliver succeeded in keeping her straight. Had she ben aught amidships, she would inevitably have been capsized.
At first the waves carried the frail boat almost above the entrance of the cavern, and one would have thought the nutshell would have been dashed to pieces against the rock, but the receeding wave drew it swiftly back with irresistable force.
Three times the light craft was thus tossed to and fro, first precipitated towards the cave, then carried back again, without being able to effect a passage through the waters which barred the entrance, but Oliver retained his self-possession, and held his own with the oars.
At last the boat was balanced for a moment on the crest of an enormous breaker, which rose almost as high as the plateau of the island, then fell with tremendous rapidity right at the foot of the cave, and Sinclair was hurled down its liquid back as though he were shooting a rapid.
A cry of horror escaped the spectators of this scene, for it appeared that the boat must inevitably be dashed against the rocks to the left of the entrance.
But the intrepid young man, with a stroke of the oars, righted her. The mouth of the cavern was then free, and, with the rapidity of an arrow, he was carried forward on the huge mass of water and disappeared inside the cavern.
A second later, the liquid sheets broke in an avalanche of foam against the island.
Would the boat be dashed to pieces against the rocks at the end of the cavern, and would there be two victims now instead of one?
Such was not the case. Oliver Sinclair had been hurled swiftly past the uneven roof of the cavern, but, by lying flat in the boat, he had escaped being struck by the projections of rock. In the space of a second he had reached the further end of the cavern, his only fear being that he might be carried out again by the retreating waters, before he could seize hold of some ledge of rock.
The boat was dashed against the columns at the end of the cave, and was broken in two, but fortunately Sinclair had time to lay hold of a projecting rock, which he clutched with the tenacity of a drowning man, and by this means hoisted himself out of reach of the sea.
A moment later, the broken boat was carried out by the retreating wave, and at sight of the wreck, the brothers and Partridge could not but conclude that the gallant young man had perished.