Otis James
The Light Keepers: A Story of the United States Light-house Service

CHAPTER XIII
A DISABLED CREW

The tears nearly blinded the lad as he lighted the lamp, started the clock, and watched to make certain it was running smoothly. Then he raised the wick until the flame was of the same size as Captain Eph had said was required to get the greatest amount of light without danger of smoke, and, closing the door of the lantern softly lest the echoes should be aroused, crept down to the kitchen.

Here he lighted a small lamp; raked out the ashes from the fire, put on fresh coal, and then stood in the middle of the room asking himself if it was possible he could stay there alone all night.

"That's a foolish question," he said, speaking aloud as if to hear the sound of his own voice. "I've got to stay, because I couldn't go away if I was willing to leave the light alone. It isn't likely any of them will be back before morning, and I'd be ashamed to confess that I'd made a baby of myself at a time when it is possible to be of some service to those who have been so kind to me."

It was as if this little self-lecture did him good, for his face was brighter when he ascended the stairs to make certain the lamp was burning at its best.

Then back to the kitchen, where he put the dishes on the table so that a meal might be made ready quickly, if it so chanced that the keepers succeeded in gaining the ledge before another day had come. The coffee pot, full as when Uncle Zenas left it, was set on the back of the stove, and then he forced himself to eat a little.

"I'll go into the lantern every half-hour till sunrise," he said aloud. "There's no danger I shall feel like going to sleep while I'm here alone, and climbing the stairs so often will take up just so much of the time."

As he had said, so he did; but yet the hours passed so slowly that at times it really seemed as if the hands of the clock stood still. He tried in vain to read; but the words danced before his eyes, and he found himself listening to the moaning of the wind, instead of taking heed to that which was before him.

At eight o'clock it seemed as if the night must have passed, and from then until nine, each second was as a minute. It was hardly more than bed-time; eight more hours must elapse before a new day dawned, and there would be such a long, dreary time of waiting.

Then, suddenly, he heard what sounded like a human voice, and he ran swiftly to the door, but paused there, saying to himself it was foolish to allow such ideas to enter his mind, for none save the keepers themselves would come to that lonely ledge in the night, and it was not possible they had returned.

"Ahoy! Sonny! Fetch a lantern!"

It was Captain Eph's voice, and with a shrill cry of relief and joyful surprise, Sidney flung wide open the outer door, letting the light stream out from the kitchen in rays of welcome.

"Hello Sonny! Gettin' lonesome, eh? Bring the lantern that's hangin' behind the stove!"

It seemed to Sidney as if he had never been so clumsy before; twice the matches went out before the wick was lighted, and when he finally succeeded, he had difficulty in shutting down the globe.

When it had been made ready he descended the ladder as rapidly as possible, not stopping for coat or hat; but before gaining the rocks below the question came into his mind as to why all hands were remaining at the boat waiting for him to come with a lantern, when one could run her up on the ways without assistance.

"Did you find him?" Sidney shouted as he scrambled over the jagged rocks, and Captain Eph replied mournfully:

"Ay, we've got the poor fellow."

"What?" and the lad stopped suddenly. "He isn't – isn't – "

"He's alive, Sonny, an' that's about the best that can be said; but, thank God, we overtook him before it was too late."

Now it was possible for Sidney to see the apparently lifeless form of Mr. Peters in the bottom of the dory; but before he had time for more than a passing glance, Captain Eph said softly:

"Now go ahead of us, Sonny, an' hold the lantern behind you so we can see our way over the rocks. Walk slowly, son, for we don't dare to hurry."

Then Captain Eph and Uncle Zenas lifted with womanly tenderness the limp form, and the little procession crept over the ledge, giving due heed to their steps lest the unconscious man should receive yet further injury.

It was difficult to carry him up the ladder, and from the kitchen to his own room; but the task was performed after an expenditure of much time, and when he was lying on his own bed Uncle Zenas said, in a whisper:

"We'd better give him somethin' hot first, Ephraim. If you'll heat the coffee, I'll get his clothes off."

Sidney ran ahead of the keeper, rejoicing because he had made ready for the home-coming even when it seemed impossible they could get there, and while Captain Eph was pouring out the coffee, he asked:

"What has happened to him, sir?"

"That's what we don't jest know, Sonny. We overtook the raft ten miles or more from here, an' poor little Sammy was stretched out at full length on it as if he was dead, with the waves washin' clean over him every now an' then. It didn't take us long to find that there was some little life left in his body, an' you can make up your mind that we jumped it to the dory after takin' him aboard, for the only hope of fetchin' him around was to get back here. Uncle Zenas an' I were feelin' mighty glum, as you can well guess; but there was a big lot of gladness come inter our hearts when we saw the light streamin' out from Carys' Ledge, an' knew that the little shaver we'd left behind was bucklin' right down to duty."

Having said this, Captain Eph went hurriedly up the stairs with the smoking-hot coffee, and Sidney said to himself as he put on the table such food as had been cooked for dinner:

"I'm afraid Captain Eph wouldn't have said quite what he did, if he'd known how lonesome and discouraged I got because of being alone here on the reef."

Not until nearly an hour had passed did either of the keepers come down-stairs, and then it was Uncle Zenas who entered the kitchen, exclaiming as he saw the preparations for supper:

"I declare for it, Sonny, you've done the work up in proper shape! I wouldn't have believed sich a little chap had it in him to look after things so well!"

"Is Mr. Peters any better, sir?" Sidney asked, feeling more than a little ashamed because of being praised when he believed it was not deserved.

"I'm hopin' he is, Sonny. He came to long enough to ask how we knew he was adrift, an' then it seemed as if he fell off to sleep. Cap'n Eph. is sittin' with him so's I can get supper; but, 'cordin' to the looks of things, it's already got."

"Do you think Mr. Peters hurt himself in any way?"

"It must be, Sonny, else he wouldn't act so kind of queer. All Cap'n Eph an' I can figger out is that he got squeezed in some way between the timbers of the raft, for it stands to reason he didn't put 'em together very carefully. Oh Sonny, Sonny, if only I hadn't refused to give the poor fellow his breakfast when he asked for it! Somehow I felt last night as if it wasn't right for him to go off to the wreck alone, an' when he came down-stairs this mornin' reg'larly achin' to be off, I lost my temper, an' that's the fact. The worst part of this world is that after you say or do anythin' that's wrong or mean, you can't take it back agin! Jest as likely as not he'd be in better shape now, if he'd had a full stomach when he went away!"

Uncle Zenas paced to and fro as if in great mental distress, until Captain Eph stole softly down the stairs, and said:

"There's no question but that he's asleep, an' I thought I'd get a cup of coffee, for I'm chilled clean through to the bone. Brace yourself up, Zenas, an' don't take on so 'bout the words you had this mornin'. I'll venture to say that Sammy had forgot all about 'em by the time he went aboard the wreck."

Uncle Zenas refused to be comforted for some time; but by alternately scolding and coaxing, Captain Eph succeeded in soothing him to such an extent that he finally ate supper, much to Sidney's relief of mind.

All hands stood watch during the night. Sidney felt positive he could not close his eyes in slumber if he went to bed, and Captain Eph did not urge him, understanding full well how the lad felt. Uncle Zenas claimed that it was his right, because of what had happened in the morning, to sit by the side of Mr. Peters, even though it might not be possible to do him any good, and thus it was that the crew remained on duty throughout the hours of darkness.

Shortly after midnight, when he and Sidney were in the watch-room alone, Captain Eph told all he knew concerning the accident.

"When we found Sammy it looked to me as if he was pretty far gone; but yet I took note of everything to be seen, with the hope of gettin' an idee as to how the trouble came about. The top part of the raft was made of heavy timbers, which appeared as if they'd been thrown there the last thing because he'd seen that it would be jest as easy to take 'em along, an' he was kind'er between the two biggest. Now it's possible that in movin' 'round he got jammed badly; but Uncle Zenas claims he tried to swim after the dory an' over-worked himself, though I can't figger it out that way, for if he'd started after the boat he'd most likely drowned, in case of strainin' himself."

"Hasn't he said anything since you found him?" Sidney asked when the old keeper ceased speaking.

"Only after we got him into bed. He groaned now an' then in the dory, an' if it hadn't been for that we'd never been able to make out whether he was dead or alive. Was you lonesome here all by yourself, Sonny?"

"Yes, sir, and I made a fool of myself by crying at first. When I got over that it seemed as if the minutes were as long as hours, and I wondered how I would get through the night. The worst of it all was that I didn't believe you could get back to-night, and I knew if a storm came you wouldn't be able to land on the ledge."

"We'll get the storm all right, Sonny, more's the pity, for I made up my mind I'd go ashore for a doctor, providin' Sammy wasn't actin' any different by mornin', if the weather was sich that a boat would live from here to the mainland an' back."

The conversation was interrupted at this point by Uncle Zenas, who came to report that Mr. Peters had opened his eyes, swallowed a few mouthfuls of coffee, and then, apparently, sank into deep slumber again.

"I don't like the looks of it," Captain Eph muttered as he rose to his feet. "If we only knew what had happened, there'd be some chance of doctorin' him up from the medicine chest. Let's take another squint at him, Uncle Zenas."

Sidney was left alone in the watch-room while the keepers visited the patient, and, he improved the opportunity by making certain the lamp was burning brightly, smiling despite his grief as he did so, for either he or one of the keepers had gone into the lantern every ten minutes since Mr. Peters had been put to bed, whereas, under ordinary circumstances, it was not considered necessary to look at it oftener than once every hour.

Shortly after midnight Uncle Zenas prepared a hearty meal, what he called "a little snack," and for the first time since breakfast did Sidney feel any desire for food.

It was not yet daylight when the storm broke, not furiously, but with sufficient force to lash the waves into foam, and Captain Eph said with the air of one who considers himself a weather prophet:

"I'd rather seen it come on blusterin', for then there'd be a chance of blowin' itself out quickly; but this one will hang on quite a spell, an' I don't see that Sammy is gettin' any better."

There was no change in the invalid at sunrise next morning, save that he awakened oftener; but he either could not or would not answer the questions which were asked of him, and Captain Eph pored over his "Medical Suggestions" in vain for that which might give any light on the matter.

Sidney sat by Mr. Peters' bedside while Uncle Zenas cooked breakfast and Captain Eph put the lantern in order, and once he fancied the invalid looked up and smiled faintly; but the glance of recognition, if there had been one, faded away so quickly that he could not be positive it was a reality.

After the morning tasks had been performed, and the sick man was left alone while the others ate breakfast, Captain Eph said:

"It stands to reason that somebody must stay with Sammy a good part of the time till he gets better, so we'd better have reg'lar watches, 'cause we're bound to get our sleep. Of course Uncle Zenas must be in the kitchen an hour or more every mornin'. At night, whoever is on duty will be with the poor fellow, for he can be left long enough at a time to allow a flyin' visit to the light – "

"Put Sonny in Sammy's place, an' keep the watches goin' by day the same as by night," Uncle Zenas interrupted, and thus it was settled, Captain Eph agreeing to stand his first trick in the invalid's room as soon as he finished breakfast.

The old keeper did not spend any more time in the kitchen than was absolutely necessary; but hurried up-stairs even before his breakfast was really at an end, for he took a cup of coffee with him, saying as he did so:

"I don't feel jest right about leavin' Sammy alone so long, an' I'll drink this 'ere in his room."

"Why don't you try to get a little sleep, Sonny?" Uncle Zenas asked when he was alone with the lad, and the latter replied:

"I don't feel sleepy now, sir. Let me do what I can down here, so you'll be ready to take a turn at watching, and the minute my eyes grow heavy, I'll go to bed."

"It's astonishin' what a difference there is in boys," the cook said half to himself when Sidney began to sweep the floor. "I allers allowed that I'd never rest easy with one under foot, an' yet this little shaver does his share of the work like a man. I reckon, Sonny," he added, raising his voice a trifle, "that I may as well make a batch of doughnuts while I've got the chance, for there's no tellin' when I'll have so much time on my hands. If it so be you're willin', s'posen you wash the dishes?"

Sidney was not only willing, but eager, to do a full share of the work, and Uncle Zenas began his task by putting on the stove a kettle in which was a goodly quantity of lard, after which he set about mixing the dough.

The two worked in silence until the cook suddenly exclaimed, as if his mind had been wandering to other subjects than that of the task on hand:

"I declare if that fat ain't boilin', an' I'm not half ready to use it."

Rising to his feet after his own clumsy fashion, he lifted the kettle of hot lard, intending to take it off the stove, when Captain Eph shouted from the head of the stairs in a voice somewhat resembling distant thunder:

"Glory be to God! Glory be to God! Sammy is sittin' up as pert as a chicken!"

Uncle Zenas started violently at the first outcry, but as the welcome tidings came to his ears he half-turned to replace the kettle on the stove, when his knee struck the open oven-door with such force that he lurched forward, uttering an exclamation of pain, and in a twinkling the old man was on the floor with the kettle of fat uppermost upon him.

Sidney heard a shrill cry of mingled fear and pain, and, turning quickly, saw that which terrified him, for he knew full well Uncle Zenas must be seriously burned.

Before there was time for the lad to speak, or even make the slightest move toward offering assistance, that portion of the boiling lard which had been spilled upon the stove burst into a flame, and instantly it was as if the entire kitchen was ablaze.

"Help! Captain Eph! Everything is on fire, and Uncle Zenas is burnin' to death!"

Fortunately Sidney remembered that water would be of no avail at such a time, and even while crying for help he caught up his coat which the cook had made for him, and threw it over Uncle Zenas.

At the same moment Captain Eph began to descend the iron stairs at the best possible speed, and, on arriving at the landing immediately over the kitchen, saw that which caused him to believe the disaster was fully as great as Sidney had announced. In his eagerness he leaped, his feet struck the stair midway from the bottom, and down he came like a log, lying motionless on the floor as if he had been killed.

"He's dead! He's dead!" Sidney screamed involuntarily in an agony of terror; but instinctively continuing his efforts to extinguish the flames which seemingly enveloped Uncle Zenas.

Then occurred that which at any other time would have frightened the lad, even more than the apparently fatal series of accidents; but which in his terror seemed no more than the natural sequence of events.

Mr. Peters, clad only in his under-clothes, came down the stairs so rapidly that it seemed as if he was sliding instead of running, and as he appeared Captain Eph staggered to his feet; but only to fall back upon the floor again with a shrill cry of pain.

Hanging on the wall of the kitchen were the outer garments which Captain Eph and Uncle Zenas had worn when they went in search of the raft, and, gathering these in his arms, Mr. Peters threw them over the prostrate cook, smothering the flames, after which he dragged him, with no little difficulty, away from the stove.

Sidney was doing all in his power to check the fire which rapidly crept out over the floor, and Mr. Peters shouted as he thus rescued Uncle Zenas:

"The flour! The flour, Sonny! Throw it over the fat!"

The pan in which Uncle Zenas had been mixing the dough was close at hand, and Sidney flung its contents upon the blaze, the sweet, sticky stuff acting like a blanket on the burning fat, but sending forth dense, stifling clouds of smoke.

Delaying only sufficiently long to make certain that the cook was no longer in danger of being burned to death, Mr. Peters ran swiftly to the head of the stairs, closed the door in the floor, and then darted back to open the windows lest all hands be suffocated.

In the meanwhile Captain Eph had made several vain efforts to rise, but each time his left leg bent under him, causing such agony of pain that he could not repress deep groans, which frightened Sidney almost as much as had the fire.

"What is the matter?" the lad cried tremulously, as he knelt by the side of the keeper, giving no further heed to the possibility that the tower might soon be in flames.

"I don't know whether my leg is broken or not," the old man replied as he strove to prevent any sign of suffering from escaping his lips. "Don't spend your time on me, Sonny, but fight the fire, else we're all likely to be burned alive!"

Until this moment Uncle Zenas had not spoken; but continued to roll over and over on the floor as if suffering severely, and Mr. Peters devoted all his attention to him. Now when Captain Eph gave a decided command, the first assistant set about obeying it, and, with Sidney, labored feverishly to extinguish the flames which had already eaten into the floor and around the window.

Fresh water was a precious liquid on Carys' Ledge, where the entire supply must be brought from the mainland; but now it was used freely, and while the two injured men lay upon the floor unable to care for themselves, the kitchen was literally flooded before the last spark of fire had been extinguished.

Not until then did either Mr. Peters or Sidney give heed to the suffering keepers, but when the lad and the first assistant would have attended to Captain Eph, he said hoarsely:

"Look after Zenas first; his hurts must be worse than mine."

"How badly off are you?" Mr. Peters asked as he bent over the suffering man, who was lying in a pool of water, and Uncle Zenas replied, striving in vain to prevent his voice from trembling:

"That's what I don't know, Sammy; but it seems as if my legs were on fire."

"Strip off his clothes, what there is left of 'em, Sammy, an' you set to work, Sonny, scrapin' potatoes till you get enough to cover all the burned flesh," Captain Eph said in a tone of command. "Bring me somethin' to work with, an' I'll help you."

All this was done as speedily as possible, and when the partially burned clothing had been removed from the lower portion of Uncle Zenas' body, it was seen that both legs and feet were seriously injured, the blisters already beginning to appear.

As rapidly as the potatoes could be scraped into a thick paste, it was spread generously over the reddened flesh, and fastened in place by the old linen cloths which had been used for cleaning the lens.

Nearly an hour was spent in this work, and then the suffering man was left on the floor near the window where there was but little water, until the extent of Captain Eph's injuries could be ascertained.

"I didn't break any bones, that's certain, for I've been feelin' of my leg," the keeper said when Mr. Peters and Sidney knelt by his side; "but I came as near as a man could without splinterin' 'em, an' it looks as if I might be laid up quite a spell."

He had already taken off his shoe and stocking, exposing to view a limb swollen to fully twice its natural size, and Sidney was filled with wonder because the captain had been able to hide all evidences of the pain from which he was undoubtedly suffering.

"What shall I do for you, Captain Eph?" Mr. Peters asked helplessly.

"The only thing I know of is to tie it up in wet cloths, an' when that's been done you two had best get things dried out here, so's you'll have a chance to go into the lantern. I'm allowin' that the whole place is filled with smoke."

"We won't bother 'bout the light till we get you two fixed up in some kind of decent shape," Mr. Peters said decidedly, as if he considered himself in command. "I'll see to your leg while Sonny mops up the water."

Then Mr. Peters closed the windows on the easterly side of the tower, through which the moisture-laden snow was driving, and Sidney turned all his attention to making the room look more habitable.

"How are you gettin' on, Zenas?" Captain Eph asked as the second assistant beat his hands together to prevent a cry of pain from escaping his lips.

"I'm in misery, Ephraim, clear misery; but I know I've every reason to be thankful that I wasn't burned worse, an' am tryin' not to show myself a baby."

"Don't try, Uncle Zenas," the keeper said, himself striving to choke back a groan as Mr. Peters jarred the injured limb. "Yell all you want'er, an' we won't call it babyish, for when a man gets a kettle of hot fat poured over him he's like to be in a bad way."

It seemed to Sidney that he had never worked so slowly before, not even while he tried to light the lantern when Mr. Peters was brought home. He believed it in the highest degree necessary that the injured men be taken from the wet floor as speedily as possible, and yet he was making but little headway in mopping up the water.

Mr. Peters worked rapidly and dextrously, apparently in as good bodily condition as before he went adrift on the raft, and so great was the general excitement and suffering that no one appeared to consider his sudden recovery in any degree odd.

However clumsy Sidney may have thought himself, his work was finished within a reasonably short time. The floor was freed from water, the partially burned and saturated garments thrown out of the window, and the kitchen restored as nearly as possible to its former condition.

When this had been done Sidney brought from the sleeping rooms a plentiful supply of blankets and pillows, with which two beds could be made on the floor, and within three hours from the time the accidents occurred, the injured keepers had at least the appearance of being comfortable.

"There's nothin' else you two can turn your hands to here yet awhile, an' I do wish you'd go into the lantern. It stands to reason that everything there is in bad shape, an' the sooner it is set to rights the better I'll feel," Captain Eph said in such a tone of entreaty that Mr. Peters and Sidney made all haste to do as he desired.

As was to be supposed, the smoke had ascended to the very top of the tower; but the lantern was by no means in a bad condition, and the first assistant said cheerily as he set about wiping the lens:

"Cap'n Eph hasn't got any great call to worry 'bout this 'ere light. It won't take us half an hour to put things in as good shape as they were before; but what's worryin' me is how we're to get along while two of the crew are laid up for what's likely to be a long spell."