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

CHAPTER IX
THE WRECK

It was not surprising that Sidney should have feared the appeals for help came from the crew of the West Wind, for even Captain Eph had questioned in his own mind whether such might not be the case.

If Captain Harlow had cruised around in the hope of picking up the motor boat, he was quite as likely to be in the vicinity of Carys' Ledge, as else-where, and not until Sidney had assured him that there was no gun on board the West Wind, did Captain Eph entirely dismissed the matter from his mind.

As a matter of fact, at that very moment Mr. Peters and Uncle Zenas were discussing such a possibility, the cook insisting that it was only reasonable to suppose Captain Harlow would stand off and on in the vicinity of where Sidney's boat had last been seen, until there was no longer any chance the lad could be afloat.

"Of course Sonny's father would know how much gosolene there was in the boat's tank," Mr. Peters finally said, hoping to convince himself that the appeals for aid had not come from the West Wind, "an' he'd understood that the craft, if she was kept at sea, would be swamped mighty soon after the power gave out."

"I reckon you're right, Sammy," Uncle Zenas said with a sigh, "an' yet if yonder vessel is of any size, I can't make out why she should be near this ledge, unless it was a case of huntin' for something."

And as the crew of the light-house thus discussed the possibility that the signals of distress might have a terrible meaning for the lad whom they had learned to love so well, the new day came slowly, revealing a wind-lashed sea which rolled angrily over the ledge as if striving to compass the destruction of the tower, while a dense veil of fleecy particles, blown into wreaths and clouds by the gale, enveloped the light-house as by a fog.

Captain Eph extinguished the beacon light, and as he did so it seemed to Sidney that in some way the light keepers had deserted those who were battling for life amid the icy waters.

"The light can do the poor creatures no good, Sonny," the old keeper said as if he read the thought in the boy's mind, "for since daybreak they couldn't even see the reflection of it on the snow."

"And you haven't been able to so much as think how we might help them?" Sidney asked in tremulous tones.

"Look down on the ledge, Sonny, an' say whether, even if it was possible to lend a hand, we could get outside?" Captain Eph replied as he pointed to the window, and after the lad obeyed he drew back with a faint cry of terror.

The sea so entirely covered the rocks that nothing could be seen save the huge waves which broke into foam as they rolled over the ledge, or beat against the tower with a thunderous roar.

"I can't even see the boat-house!" he said at length, and the old keeper replied:

"No, Sonny, there's little chance of that at this time of the tide while the wind comes with sich force from the east'ard."

"And my boat?"

"I reckon you may as well count that gone, for she wasn't built to stand sich poundin' as she's been gettin' this last hour. Don't feel bad, Sonny, for the best craft that was ever launched ain't of much account as compared with a single human life. When the tide goes down we may be able to get outside, if so be there's anything to be done; but I've known of our bein' shut in here by the sea a full week, with only now an' then a glimpse of the ledge."

Then it was that the boom of the gun could be heard, for the first time since the day broke, and Captain Eph said in a voice tremulous with emotion:

"They're still alive, Sonny, an' their vessel is holdin' together, else it wouldn't have been possible for 'em to fire the gun; but I ain't certain as we should be thankful for it, 'cause it only means that they'll be the longer comin' to the end."

"And you don't think there is any hope for them?"

"I can't see where it'll come from, Sonny. Only the One who 'holds the waters in the hollow of His hand' can help 'em now," and, flinging his arm around the boy's shoulder, the old keeper prayed fervently that those who were in such sore distress might be comforted and upheld in their time of trouble.

Then it was that Mr. Peters came into the lantern, stepping softly as one involuntarily does in the presence of the dead, and began his work of cleaning the lens, speaking never a word, but looking out of the windows from time to time as if hoping he might get a glimpse of that which he feared to see.

On this morning Uncle Zenas did not call his comrades to breakfast from below; but ascended the stairway until it was possible to look into the lantern, when he said in a subdued tone:

"Everything's ready when you want to eat, an' I'm allowin' that all hands had better have a bite whether they feel like it or not, for there may be work to be done on the reef when the tide goes down."

"I reckon you're right, Uncle Zenas, though it seems as if food would choke me," Captain Eph replied as he led Sidney toward the stairway. "Come on, Sammy, we're bound to go through the motions, if nothin' more."

Once while they were pretending to eat, the report of the gun was heard faintly, and Sidney shrank from the sound as if he had received a blow, while Mr. Peters ran quickly to the window, although knowing full well that nothing could be seen because of the driving snow.

"I never think I'd like to be in the life-savin' service except at sich a time as this," he said as he returned to the table. "Even if the crew can't really do anything, there must be a good deal of satisfaction in makin' a big fight for it; but to be shut in a place like this, knowin' what's goin' on outside, gets on to a man's nerves worse'n anything I ever struck. A hot battle ain't a marker alongside of it."

No one made reply, and when the pretense of a meal was at an end Captain Eph went back to the lantern, Sidney following close at his heels. There the old keeper and the boy did a great deal of unnecessary work in order to keep their hands employed, and at short intervals strove to peer through the blinding whirl of snow.

After a time, how long Sidney would have been unable to say, so slowly did the moments pass, Mr. Peters cried from the kitchen:

"We can get on to the ledge now, an' I'm goin' to see what damage has been done."

Captain Eph looked hurriedly out of the window to make certain the first assistant was correct in his statement, and then shouted:

"Hold on a bit, an' I'll go with you."

"Am I to stay here?" Sidney asked wistfully.

"You can stay anywhere in the tower you please; I can't let you go with us, for not only is the footin' bad; but the tide hasn't got down so far that a wave doesn't sweep clean over the ledge every now an' then."

Sidney followed the keeper into the kitchen, and when they arrived there Mr. Peters was clad in his oil-skins, while Uncle Zenas was sewing on the coat he intended for Sidney's use, as if his very life depended on finishing it within a short time.

"Now don't do anything rash," Uncle Zenas said warningly as Captain Eph began to put on waterproof clothing. "It'll be a big temptation to make a try for the poor creeters; but you've been put here to look after the light, an' if it didn't burn to-night more than one ship's crew might lose their lives in consequence."

"We'll be cautious, Uncle Zenas," the keeper said in a low tone; "but there ain't overly much need for your warnin', because I don't know of the least little thing we can do."

Then the kitchen door was opened, and on the outside of that a shutter of iron, which must have been put on during the night, since Sidney had not seen it before, after which Mr. Peters descended the ladder cautiously, followed by the keeper.

By looking out of the window, it was possible for Sidney to follow with his eyes the movements of the men while they remained near the base of the tower, and he understood by their gestures that the motor boat had been destroyed.

Then Mr. Peters opened the door of the boat-house, not without considerable difficulty, and the dory was pulled out until Sidney could see her bow. As a matter of course she was uninjured, because of being protected from the force of the waves; but she was filled with water, and this the two men removed by tipping her partially over.

At that moment the report of the gun was heard again, and Mr. Peters ran down toward the narrow cove where the spray was flung high over his head, standing there in a listening attitude while Captain Eph scrambled across the rocks to the western side of the ledge.

"I knew both them men had the same idee in mind when they went out, an' it didn't make any difference how much I said agin it!" the cook cried impatiently, and Sidney asked in bewilderment:

"What do you mean by that, Uncle Zenas? What did they have in their minds?"

"The idee of tryin' to reach the wreck, if there was anything to be heard from the poor creeters after the tide went down so's they could get at the dory."

"Do you mean that they will try to launch the boat while the waves are breaking over the ledge?"

"If they wasn't up to something of the kind, why would Cap'n Eph be prowlin' 'round here to the lee'ard?"

"I can't see why that has anything to do with their trying to help the people who have been wrecked," Sidney said in perplexity.

"Why, he's lookin' 'round to see what kind of a chance he can find for launchin' the dory! He's crazy, dead crazy! Of course I know how wild he is at bein' obleeged to stay here idle when people are bein' drowned before our very eyes, even though we can't see 'em, for I feel the same way; but he an' Sammy will be only givin' up their own lives in tryin' anythin' of the kind."

It surely seemed as if Uncle Zenas had spoken no more than the truth. The sea was running as high as at any time since daybreak, and Sidney could not believe that any small boat, however skilfully she might be handled, could live for a moment in such a swell.

Dimly amid the swirling snow Sidney could see Captain Eph as he crept over the rocks on the western side of the ledge, looked about him for a moment, and waved his hand to Mr. Peters, whereupon the first assistant began pulling the dory out of the boat-house. Then the lad cried to Uncle Zenas:

"They are going to launch the boat, sir. Mr. Peters is making her ready."

"God help them an' us, Sonny!" Uncle Zenas cried fervently, and he could have said nothing which would have caused Sidney more alarm, for he understood by the exclamation how dangerous the old man believed would be the attempt.

"Why don't you coax them not to try it?" Sidney asked tearfully.

"Because it wouldn't be any manner of use, Sonny. Ephriam Downs is pig-headed when he gets his mind set on anything, an' Sammy Peters ain't far behind him. Besides, how can you blame 'em for wantin' to make a try at it? I'd rather be with them in the dory, if I wasn't quite so fat, than sittin' here thinkin' of what may come to 'em."

By this time Captain Eph had returned to the vicinity of the tower, and was helping Mr. Peters drag the boat over the jagged rocks, a task which seemed beyond their powers, and yet it was finally accomplished.

Uncle Zenas had come to the window by the side of Sidney, and the two could see the keepers as they shoved the dory out into the sea where it was comparatively calm because of being to the leeward of the ledge. Then both the men, heeding not the biting cold and the sleety snow, stripped off first their oil-skins, and afterward all superfluous clothing, until they stood in their shirtsleeves.

"What's that for?" Sidney asked excitedly. "They'll freeze to death!

"There'll be some little chance of their swimmin' ashore if they haven't got too many clothes on," Uncle Zenas replied mournfully, and then he raised his head quickly as the muffled report of the gun could be heard. "I'm proud of 'em, Sonny, proud of 'em! Talk about men being brave! I've wintered an' summered with them two, an' you can't find more courage in the same weight of human bein's than they've got!"

"But you believe they'll be drowned!" Sidney cried, striving to prevent his voice from trembling.

"There's nothin' we could say or do, Sonny, to prevent 'em from goin' an' we'll hope the good God will send 'em back to us, for I'd be a terrible lonesome, useless old man if them two were taken from me."

Uncle Zenas wiped the tears from his eyes as he strove to peer through the falling snow while the brave keepers leaped into the dory, after shoving her bow from the shore, and Sidney literally held his breath in suspense as the frail boat was tossed high up on the crest of a wave, only to be seemingly engulfed by the next.

"She'll be swamped before they can get around the ledge!" the lad cried in an agony of terror. "Oh, why did they go?"

"I ain't afraid but they'll keep her right side up for a spell, Sonny; but it's when they get anywhere near the wreck that the most dangerous part of the business will come in. Wouldn't you feel better if we went into the lantern? I don't reckon we can see any more there; but it'll seem as if we could."

For reply Sidney ran up the narrow staircase, Uncle Zenas following more rapidly than one would have supposed he could have moved, and when the two were in the lantern the shadowy forms of the keepers could be seen as they toiled at the oars in what seemed like a vain effort.

In a very few seconds the snow hid them completely from view, but yet the watchers stood with their faces pressed against the glass, picturing in their minds the dory and her brave crew as they saw them last.

"If – if – if nothing happens to them, how long before they ought to be back?" Sidney asked in a choking voice, and Uncle Zenas replied in tones hardly more steady:

"That is what we can't make any guess at, lad. It's certain they couldn't pull out to the wreck, against this wind, in less than an hour, an' if anything can be done toward savin' the crew, half a day may be none too long."

Sidney strove in vain to distinguish anything through the snow wreaths; but yet he remained at the window until Uncle Zenas, straightening himself up as if with an effort, said slowly:

"It's no good to stay here when nothin' can be seen but the snow; I must be doin' somethin', or nobody knows what will happen to me. We'll go down in the kitchen, where I can work on your coat."

"I want to get the first glimpse of them when they come back," Sidney said, reluctantly following the old man.

"Then don't begin to look for 'em till later in the day; it'll make you crazy to watch the snow-flakes while they're whirlin' 'round the tower at sich a rate."

Once in the kitchen Uncle Zenas took up his work, sewing feverishly, and keeping his eyes fixed on the garment as if he was afraid to look out of doors, while Sidney walked nervously from one window to another in silence.

When it seemed to the lad as if a full day had passed, the old man asked in a half-whisper:

"Do you reckon we'd better get dinner, Sonny?"

"I couldn't swallow a mouthful. It seems as if I'd never want any more to eat."

"That's about the way I'm feelin', Sonny, an' perhaps it won't do any good to force ourselves. I'll make a big lot of coffee, so we'll have plenty of hot drink for Cap'n Eph an' Sammy when they get back. I reckon they'll be more'n half frozen."

"I only wish I knew they would come back!" Sidney said as if to himself, and Uncle Zenas cried with more of hopefulness in his tone than he had indulged in since his comrades went out:

"We're bound to think they'll come, Sonny. There's no sense in dwellin' on the dark side of things, an' we've got to keep our spirits up. You shall help me build a roarin' fire, for it ain't any ways certain we won't have half-drownded strangers here before a great while."

It was a positive relief to have something in the nature of work to do, and Sidney obeyed eagerly, bringing coal from the odd cellar, shaking the ashes from the grate, and brushing up the dust which had fallen to the floor.

When he went back to the window again it seemed as if he could see a dark shadow through the snow to the southward of the ledge, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that he could prevent himself from crying aloud.

"I won't make a fool of myself by exciting Uncle Zenas about nothing," he said to himself, and then he was positive the shadow rose and sank, as if on the waves.

"I believe I can see something," he said softly, trying hard to repress any evidence of great joy. "There's a shadow out on the ocean, and – "

"It's our dory, Sonny, it's our dory!" Uncle Zenas cried loudly, suddenly lifting the lad in his big arms and kissing him again and again. "Yonder's a boat, sure enough, an' it must be ours!"

"But if she should be – "

Sidney could not finish the sentence, and the old man cried excitedly as he ran to and fro:

"But she won't be, Sonny. That craft is held straight on a course, else she'd be wabblin' 'round. Get somethin' on – Here, this coat is far enough along in the makin'. Get into it quick, an' we'll go out to bear a hand!"

"But what can we do?" Sidney cried, now showing quite as much excitement as did Uncle Zenas. "How are we to bear a hand?"

"They'll need some one to help 'em make a landin', whether there are passengers aboard or not! Be lively, Sonny, an' thank God that He has let Cap'n Eph an' Sammy come back to us!"

Neither Uncle Zenas nor Sidney were very well protected from the cold when they clambered down the iron ladder to the rocks; but it is safe to say that neither of them could have told whether he was warm or cold, wet or dry, as they stood on the ledge gazing with painful intentness at that dark line behind the snow which both believed to be the boat they were so anxious to see.

Then, slowly, the shadow took on form, until it was possible to trace the outlines of the dory, and an instant later a great cry of triumph went up from both.

There were four men at the oars instead of two, and a heap of something in the stern-sheets that might well be a human being.

"Just think of it!" Uncle Zenas cried, dancing to and fro over the icy rocks more like an insane person than a staid, elderly cook and second assistant of a first-order light. "Them two old idjuts have gone out when a man had no business even to walk the length of this 'ere ledge, an' saved sailors as were drownin'! There ain't another couple on the whole coast, never mind how young they may be, who'd dared to put off in this gale."

It would be well nigh impossible to set down all that Uncle Zenas said or did while he waited, unmindful of the falling snow or flying spray, for the coming of his comrades. Never for an instant was he silent or motionless, and it is extremely doubtful if he was aware of what he said or did; his joy was so intense as to have become a form of delirium.

Sidney, on the contrary, neither moved nor spoke during that time of waiting; but with pallid face, and lips compressed until the blood was driven from them entirely, he watched eagerly and fearfully the approach of the dory.

The little craft was laboring fearfully in the heavy sea, even though the wind helped her along, and the watchers could have some dim idea of what a battle the two keepers must have had when advancing in the very teeth of the gale, by the labor which was required now, when the most difficult portion of the task was virtually at an end.

Then came the moment when, having run across the southerly end of the ledge, the dory was headed for the western shore and the two watchers ran into the water waist-deep in order to lend a hand.

Save for the incoherent cries of Uncle Zenas, no word was spoken until the bow of the little boat had been hauled up on the rocks, and Captain Eph leaped ashore.

His clothing was covered with ice; his hair weighted with snow, and his face so disguised by the mask of frost that even Uncle Zenas might have failed to recognize him under other circumstances; but he lifted Sidney in his arms, as if it was the lad instead of himself who had performed the bravest of brave deeds, and, kissing him again and again, said in a half-whisper:

"Thank God that I've got your face next to mine once more!"

"He has been good to let you come back to me," Sidney said reverentially, and the greetings were at an end.

"Bear a hand, Uncle Zenas, an' help get these poor fellows into the tower. Two of 'em are well nigh dead, an' the others ain't much better, though I reckon the work at the oars has done 'em a world of good."

Then, and only then, did Sidney understand that the keepers had rescued four sailors, two of whom were huddled in the bottom of the dory as if life had already departed.

It was as if Uncle Zenas had the strength of half a dozen men. He lifted one of the unconscious sailors in his big arms, as if handling a baby, and ran across the slippery rocks like a goat, depositing his burden in the kitchen and getting back to the dory before the second sufferer had been taken out.

"Leave him to me," the cook said as he raised the sailor in his arms, literally forcing Captain Eph to release his hold. "I'm feelin' so mighty good 'cause you've come back alive that I've got to do somethin' out of the common run, or take the chances of bustin'."

Sidney could do nothing more than help Captain Eph and Mr. Peters drag the boat across the rocks to the little boat-house, and when she was properly secured the three entered the kitchen.

Two of the survivors of the wreck were in front of the fire drinking hot coffee, while Uncle Zenas was stripping the clothing from the others, and the cook's first words showed that he intended to take entire charge of the rescue from that point.

"Sonny," he cried, "run up-stairs an' strip all the beds; bring the clothes here, an' then help me rub these poor creeters down. Ephraim Downs, you an' Sammy Peters are to get out of them wet duds jest as quick as you know how, an' don't you dare let me see you liftin' a finger till you're in dry clothes. I've had trouble enough about you this day, without your gettin' all drawed up with rheumatiz jest for spite. You're enough to wear a man down to skin an' bones, an' I've come to that pass where I can't stand any more of your capers."

All was bustle and excitement during the next hour. Sidney tried to obey promptly all the cook's orders; but at times he became so confused as to hardly be aware of what he was doing.

The two survivors who had assisted in working the boat were in no need of care after they had been supplied with dry clothing; but it was necessary to rub the others vigorously before they showed signs of returning consciousness.

Within an hour, however, the rescued men were lying in the beds which had been made up on the floor of the kitchen, and Captain Eph sat in the rocking-chair before the stove, with Sidney in his arms.

"You're a brave man, Captain Eph," the lad said as he clasped the keeper's big, brown hand, "and I'm mighty proud of you."

"That's a good deal more pay than I deserve for doin' what little was in my power, Sonny, dear."

"Were all the rest of the crew drowned?"

"Ay Sonny, sixteen of 'em either froze or went under before we got there, an' two of these couldn't have lasted another half hour; but we won't talk about that jest now. From the time Sammy an' me started, I kept sayin' to myself that when we got back I'd take you in my arms, as I've got you near an' hold you jest as long as you could stand it, for you're gettin' to be a good part of my life, laddie."