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."
At that moment Sidney was thinking of what had just taken place, rather than of what they might or might not be able to do in the future, and the most perplexing part of it was the sudden and complete recovery of Mr. Peters.
He could understand that the first assistant might have been so excited by the disasters in the kitchen as to be able to do what, under almost any other circumstances, would have been absolutely impossible; but in such case a reaction should have set in after the danger had passed, when the patient would be in a far worse bodily condition than before.
If Mr. Peters had collapsed immediately Captain Eph's needs were supplied, Sidney would not have been surprised; in fact, he would have looked upon it as the most natural thing possible. But the first assistant showed no signs of weakening even now when they were absent from the scene of the accident; he appeared to be in as good bodily condition as ever, and the lad was so very curious regarding the situation that he asked abruptly:
"How did it happen, Mr. Peters, that you got well so quickly? We all thought there was danger you might die."
"It does seem kind'er queer, don't it?" and the first assistant rubbed the tip of his nose reflectively with the buff-skin. "Wa'al now, Sonny, I'd like mighty well to tell you jest how it happened; but I don't rightly know all the pertic'lars myself, although I can let in a little light if you'll promise never to tell a livin' soul."
"Of course I wouldn't tell anything which you wanted kept secret," Sidney replied.
"That's a promise, is it?" Mr. Peters asked sharply.
"Of course it is; but if it's so very much of a secret, there's no reason why you should tell me. I was only wondering how you got well so quickly, and it won't do any harm if I don't know."
"But I'd rather tell you, Sonny, though I'd feel mortally bad if Cap'n Eph or Uncle Zenas heard about it, because I'm ashamed of a part," Mr. Peters said seriously, and Sidney looked at him in surprise, failing to understand why so much of an introduction was necessary to the answering of a simple question.
"It isn't any of my business, you know, and perhaps you'd better not say any more," Sidney began, but Mr. Peters interrupted him as he softly closed the door in the floor of the lantern.
"I'm goin' to tell you the whole story, Sonny, an' it shall be a secret 'twixt you an' me. In the first place I was chafin' under the collar a good bit when I left here to go to the wreck, after Uncle Zenas had declared I shouldn't have a bite to eat till breakfast was ready. It didn't seem jest the thing for him to make me go hungry because he was set against my savin' what I could from the Nautilus, an' I'll leave it to you if I wasn't right?"
"He might have let you have some of the food that was already cooked," Sidney replied guardedly, not disposed to find serious fault with the cook while he was in such distress.
"Wa'al, he declared I shouldn't have the least little crumb, an' off I started on work that was as much for his benefit as my own. When I got aboard the wreck I found it was goin' to be possible to get away with a good deal more'n could be loaded into the dory, so I built a raft, an' Sonny dear, I had timber an' ropes there that would have done your heart good to see! Of course it wasn't a great while before I found out that we was likely to have a storm, an' I jest threw the stuff together in the hope of gettin' back to the ledge before the wind got too high."
"Then you did start with the raft just as Captain Eph believed?"
"Yes, I started, Sonny, but hadn't got very far before I saw that I was likely to lose some of my load unless it was looked after, so I ran the bow of the dory up on the lumber, an' got out to make the heaviest timbers fast. I reckon that in movin' 'round I tilted the side of the raft down so the boat slipped off; but she was twenty yards away before I knew what had happened. Of course I didn't suppose that the man would come after the motor so soon, an' allowed that my only chance of ever seein' Carys' Ledge agin was to catch the dory.
"Over I went without stoppin' to think that the wind would shove her along faster'n I could swim; but it wasn't a great while before I found that much out. Then I started back for the raft, an' mighty hard work I had to reach her. When, after bein' a good half-hour in the cold water, I climbed up on the timbers, you'd better believe I was in bad shape, an' jest about as near crazy as I ever shall be till they lug me off to some asylum."
"I wonder that you wasn't frozen," Sidney said sympathetically, as Mr. Peters ceased speaking for a moment.
"Frozen? I was so cold, Sonny, that I couldn't tell you what my name was, an' layin' there on the timbers with the wind blowin' half a gale didn't tend to make me any warmer. After a while, though, I got to understand that I'd die for sure if somethin' wasn't done, because I counted help couldn't come till I'd drifted ashore, an' that mightn't be much before mornin'. Wa'al, as I figgered it, thinkin' you folks on the ledge couldn't come out to help me owin' to your not havin' a boat, my only chance was to work the raft in toward the shore faster'n the wind was carryin' her."
"But how could you do that without oars, sir?" and Sidney was literally trembling with suppressed excitement, as he imagined himself in Mr. Peters' position.
"I had lumber enough to make a hundred oars, but no tools with which to put 'em in shape. I got out a piece of plankin', usin' my foot as a thole-pin, an' in that way got the raft workin' more favorably in the wind; but I couldn't raise the plank high enough out of the water. A big wave caught the outer end, an' then I got sich a clip on the stomach as knocked me silly. It looked as if I was pretty nigh my last gasp, an' jest then a sea swept me clean off the timbers. It's a solemn fact, Sonny, that I don't have any idee how I got back to the raft. The next thing I realized, was when Cap'n Eph an' Uncle Zenas brought me inter the tower. But now comes the mean part of it."
Mr. Peters paused, and Sidney would have spoken, but that the first assistant checked him with a gesture, as he said sharply:
"Don't say a word, Sonny, or my courage won't hold out to tell the whole of the story. Until about midnight I wasn't more'n half sensible of what was goin' on; but after then I could have got up an' gone to work jest as well as I can now, though I felt a bit lazy, an' considerable tired. I was jest mean enough to lay there in bed an' let you three stay on watch all night, when there was nothin' to prevent my doin' a full share of the duty."
"But why didn't you get up?" Sidney asked in surprise.
"Because I was so all-fired mean, Sonny, that is the reason. I saw that Uncle Zenas was worryin' a good deal about me, an' made up my mind to give him a good dose, so the next time I wanted to start away early he wouldn't dare to say I shouldn't have breakfast till it was ready for all hands. I fixed it with myself that I'd get up sometime this mornin', an' had jest begun to come 'round gradual-like, when the trouble happened, an' 'twixt you an' me, Sonny, I'm to blame for the whole thing. All I ask now is, that I may live long enough to kind'er square up with Cap'n Eph an' Uncle Zenas for my meanness."
Sidney was at a loss for words when the first assistant paused as if expecting him to make some comment, and during five minutes or more the two worked in silence. Then Mr. Peters said, as he gave the finishing touches to the lens:
"I reckon it would take a mighty smart man to say that there'd been any smoke in this 'ere lantern, an' now we'd better go down to see what the poor fellows are needin'. I don't expect, Sonny, that you'll ever think of me as anything except the meanest critter that ever walked the face of the earth; but I'm askin' that you won't show it before the others. Life wouldn't be worth the livin', if they should know what I'd done."
"Of course you couldn't have an idea that any accident would happen because of your staying in bed as you did, and so I don't think you're as much to blame as you make out," Sidney said earnestly. "You needn't worry that I'll ever tell Captain Eph or Uncle Zenas what you've said; but if they knew the whole story, I'm certain neither of them would look at it as you do."
"Is that the truth, Sonny, or are you sayin' it to make me feel a little better?" Mr. Peters asked eagerly, and Sidney assured him again and again that he had said no more than he really believed.
"I'll hope you're right, Sonny; but at the same time I shall never be able to see my face in a lookin' glass agin without callin' myself hard names," Mr. Peters said with a sigh, and then he led the way down-stairs.
When they reached the kitchen it was to find Uncle Zenas in greater pain than when they went into the lantern, and Captain Eph explained that it was to be expected he would suffer more each hour until the heat had been drawn from the burns by the potato poultice.
"He'll have a mighty hard time of it for two or three days, an' then, unless he's been burned worse'n we think, there'll be a change for the better," Captain Eph said in conclusion, and Sidney asked how he was feeling.
The keeper drew aside the bandages to show the swollen and rapidly-discoloring flesh, after which he said:
"Knowin' that it's nothin' worse'n a bad sprain, an' will come 'round all right after a spell, I wouldn't allow that I'd got it so awful hard if we hadn't the light to look after, an' how's that to be done?"
"Now don't fret over that a little bit, Cap'n Eph," Mr. Peters cried imploringly. "It wouldn't hurt me any if I stood watch every night till you an' Uncle Zenas got 'round agin; but Sonny has shown that he can look after the light as well as either of us, an' he an' I will run things slick as grease. He can go on watch till midnight, an' I'll take the rest of the time, doin' all the cleanin' alone."
"I shall do my full share of the work," Sidney cried decidedly, "and be right glad of the chance to pay you off for having been so good to me!"
"But what about the cookin'?" Uncle Zenas groaned. "Somebody must get the meals an' keep the kitchen cleared up."
"I can make coffee, and boil potatoes," Sidney replied promptly. "Perhaps, if you'd tell me how, I could do a good deal more. Any way, it would be a pretty poor kind of a boy who couldn't wash dishes and sweep the floor, and it seems as if we ought to get along in great shape."
"You're countin' on doin' too much, Sonny; but perhaps, if Sammy takes all the care of the light, with you to stand watch the first part of the night, you might make quite a fist at runnin' things down here, 'specially since Uncle Zenas an' me will have to stay right where we can show you how to do this or that," Captain Eph replied, and Sidney cried in surprise:
"Are you thinking of staying here in the kitchen all the time, sir?"
"What else can we do, Sonny?" the keeper asked grimly. "Even if Uncle Zenas was in condition to be moved, which he ain't, do you think you an' Sammy could get him up-stairs? You might as well try to lug an elephant, as him. An' the same holds good in my case. I wouldn't put my foot down on the floor, to step any part of my weight on it, for the best hundred dollars I ever heard tell about, an' you two couldn't carry me half-way to my room. I've been thinkin' it all out, an' can't see any other course than for Uncle Zenas an' me to stay where we are."
"If you've got to turn the kitchen inter a hospital, why wouldn't it be a good idee for me to bring the beds down here?" Mr. Peters asked eagerly. "It won't be any hard job, an' I'll get at it right away."
"You sha'n't do anything of the kind, Sammy," and Captain Eph spoke in a decisive tone. "You ought'er be in bed yourself this very minute, an' you'd never been able to leave it if you hadn't got all worked up over our gettin' hurt. You've got a kind heart, Sammy, an' mustn't be allowed to trifle with your poor, weak body."
A deep flush of shame overspread Mr. Peters' face, and Sidney really pitied him. Such was the punishment to which he must submit in silence because of the deception he had practiced.
"I'll look after my body, Cap'n Eph," the first assistant said after a pause. "I wasn't hurt half so much as it seemed, an' bringin' the bedsteads down wouldn't hurt a flea."
"We can't have 'em here, Sammy. There isn't room enough in the kitchen, an' we shall be comfortable the way you've rigged things."
"The mattresses won't take up any more room than those piles of blankets, an' I'll bring them anyhow," Mr. Peters cried, hurrying up the stairs as if afraid the keeper might try to stop him, and Sidney could understand very well why the first assistant was eager to do even more that might not be absolutely necessary, hoping thus to atone for his deceit.
It was no slight task to move Uncle Zenas from the place where he was lying to the mattress which Mr. Peters brought, and not accomplished without causing the sufferer very much additional pain; but there could be no question as to the future benefit, and the keeper said in a tone of satisfaction:
"That's first rate, Sammy, an' now I reckon you may bring down another bed for me. When that's done we'll be in fairly good condition, an' your hospital will look a deal more ship-shape."
By the time Captain Eph had been attended to, it was necessary Sidney should set about getting supper, for even the invalids needed something in the way of food, and, with Mr. Peters to assist him, the lad succeeded far beyond his own anticipations.
"Before Uncle Zenas gets around agin you'll be a first-class cook," Captain Eph said when the supper was on the table, and Sidney was heating some of the canned soup with the hope that the second assistant would swallow it. "Beats all how handy you are. Haven't been on Carys' Ledge hardly long enough to get acquainted, an' know how to look after the light! It won't be a great while before you can run the whole business."
"It would be funny if I couldn't do a little bit, when all of you have shown me how," Sidney replied with a laugh, but secretly he was well pleased at being thus praised.
That evening, after the lamp in the lantern had been lighted, and the invalids were cared for as well as possible under the circumstances, Sidney spoke of the possibility that the tower might have been burned, and asked Captain Eph if light-houses had ever been entirely destroyed by fire.
"If you'll go into my room an' get a book called Ancient an' Modern Light-Houses, which was written by Major Heap of the Army, I'll show you a story about the burnin' of the second Eddystone light—you remember that the first was carried away by the sea," the keeper replied, and believing it might cause the invalids to forget in some slight degree their sad condition, Sidney went hurriedly for the book in question, reading aloud, after Captain Eph had found the story, that which is set down here:
"The fire which destroyed this light-house [the second Eddystone], which had withstood the fiercest storms for nearly half a century, took place in December, 1755. The keeper going to snuff the candles at 2 A.M., found the lantern full of smoke, and when he opened the door was driven back by a burst of flame.
"The candles were twenty-four in number, and weighed two and one-half pounds each; their long continued use must have thoroughly dried the wood-*work of the lantern, which, besides, was probably covered with soot, so that a spark would easily ignite it.
"The poor keeper did what he could to put out the fire; he after a while succeeded in awakening the other two keepers, and they all tried to throw water on the flames, but as it had to be brought seventy feet high, they soon found their efforts unavailing, and, in addition, one of the keepers, the one who discovered the fire, was disabled by a curious accident.
"While he was looking upwards, endeavoring to see the effect of the water he had thrown, a shower of molten lead fell on his head, neck, and shoulders—part of it ran inside his shirt-collar and burned him badly; he also felt an intense burning inside, and supposed that part of the lead had passed down his throat.
"The three men gave up the unequal struggle and descended from room to room, as they were driven by the heat and melting metal.
"Early in the morning the fire was seen on shore, and a philanthropic gentleman fitted out a fishing boat which arrived at the light-house at 10 a.m. The fire had then been burning eight hours; the light keepers had been driven from the tower, and, to avoid the falling timbers and red-hot bolts, had taken refuge in the hole or cave on the east side of the rocks under the iron ladder, near the landing.
"The men were stupefied, and the wind being from the east made a landing extremely hazardous, if not impracticable. They, however, were saved by the crew first anchoring the large boat, then a small boat was rowed toward the rock, paying out a rope which was attached to the large boat; when near enough to the rock a heaving-line was thrown to the men. Each light keeper in turn fastened the rope around his waist, and, jumping into the sea, was hauled into the boat.
"As the fishing-boat could do nothing to quell the flames, it returned to Plymouth to land the keepers; one, as soon as he got on shore, ran away, it is supposed in a panic; the one burned by the melted lead was sent to his own home for medical attendance; he was ninety-four years old, but remarkably active considering his age. He told the doctor that he had swallowed the molten lead, and that he could not be cured unless it was removed. He lived until the twelfth day, when he suddenly expired—the doctor opened his stomach, and found therein a solid oval piece of lead weighing more than seven ounces."
"I don't understand how a tower could be burned," Sidney said thoughtfully as he ceased reading, and Captain Eph replied:
"If you look back a page or two, Sonny, you'll find that the one burned was built wholly of timber on the outside, and so was the top part of the inside. This tower couldn't burn flat, bein' all stone, but the rooms would have been pretty well cleaned out if you an' Sammy hadn't worked mighty lively. We came off a good deal better than those poor fellows did, an' Uncle Zenas can thank his lucky stars that it was melted fat instead of lead which fell on him."
"Suppose the inside of the tower had burned," Sidney continued, seemingly finding a certain fascination in speculating upon the possibilities. "We might have been forced to stay here a long while before any one came to take us off."
"Ay, Sonny, that is true, but even then we wouldn't have been as badly off as other light-house keepers and builders have been. There's a story in that same book about the Smalls light-house, off the west coast of Wales. Find that an' read it, so's we can see how much we've got to be thankful for, even if we are disabled an' in a kitchen-hospital."
Sidney did as the keeper requested, and read the following, to which even Uncle Zenas listened with apparent interest:
"In the summer of 1772 Whiteside first made the acquaintance of the place on which he was to indelibly engrave his name. He disembarked on the rocks with a gang of Cornish miners, and the obstacles which they met at the commencement of the work nearly disgusted him with the enterprise. He and his companions had started the work when a storm suddenly broke upon them. The wind blew with great force, and the cutter which had brought them had to fly before the fury of the gale. The workmen left on the rock hung on the best they could for two days and nights. Whiteside was not discouraged, and finally brought the work to a successful end, but not without being exposed to many dangers.
"One day the dwellers on the coast picked up on the beach a cask inscribed, 'Open this and you will find a letter'; inside was a carefully-sealed bottle, and in the bottle a document as follows:
"'Smalls, February 1, 1777.
"'Sir,—Finding ourselves at this moment in the most critical and dangerous condition, we hope that Providence will guide this letter to you, and that you will immediately come to our succor. Send to seek for us before spring, or we will perish, I fear; our supply of wood and water is almost exhausted, and our house is in the most sad state. We do not doubt that you would come to seek us as promptly as possible. We can be reached at high tide in almost any weather. I have no need to tell you more, you will comprehend our distress, and I remain,
"'Your humble servant, "'H. Whiteside.
"'We were surprised on the 23 January by a tempest; since that time we have not been able to light the temporary light for want of oil and candles. We fear we have been forgotten.
"'Ed. Edwards. G. Adams. J. Price.
"'P.S. We do not doubt that the person in whose hands this will fall will be sufficiently charitable to send it to Th. Williams, Esq., Trelethen, near St. Davids, Wales.'
"The history of Smalls has other and darker pages. It is related that at the beginning of the nineteenth century there was a winter so stormy that for four months the two keepers were entirely cut off from any succor from shore. It was in vain that vessels were sent to the rock, the furious sea always prevented a landing. One of them returned one day with a strange report. Its crew had seen a man, standing motionless, in a corner of the exterior gallery. Near him floated a signal of distress. But was he dead or alive? No one could say. Each evening anxious looks were cast at the light-house to see if its light would be shown, and each evening it shone brightly, proof that some one was still there. But were both keepers alive, and if there were but one who was the survivor? This was learned later.
"One evening a fisher from Milford, who had succeeded in landing at Smalls in an intermission of calm weather, brought to Solway the two keepers, but one of them was a corpse. The survivor had made a coffin for his dead comrade, then, after having carried it to a corner of the gallery, he had stood it on end, attaching it firmly. Left alone he had done good service. When returned on shore he was so changed, so emaciated, that his relatives and friends could scarcely recognize him. He asserted that his comrade had died of disease; he was believed, but after this time there were always three keepers at Smalls in the place of two—a wise precaution which has since been taken for light-houses placed in similar conditions."
"I ain't certain as that is very cheerful readin' for us," Captain Eph said grimly. "It's too near hittin' our own case, seem's how every one of this 'ere crew has come near bein' killed, an' if that had happened, our little Sonny would have been in a worse way than a young girl in a light not far from here, which we'll read about some other time."
"Don't say that I came near dyin', Cap'n Eph," Mr. Peters cried. "I've never been as bad off as you an' Uncle Zenas believed."
Sidney fancied that the first assistant was about to confess his deceit; but if such was the case, Captain Eph prevented him by saying sharply:
"I don't know how a man could be in much harder sleddin' than you, Sammy, when that 'ere raft was drivin' before the wind, with the waves washin' clean over both you an' her. Uncle Zenas an' me felt mightily down at the mouth 'bout that time, for we reckoned sure you was dead."
"An' I called myself all kinds of an old villain for declarin' you shouldn't have any breakfast, Sammy," Uncle Zenas said, his voice tremulous with pain. "I hope you won't lay it up agin me, for we've been in danger too often to let anything come between us, an' when I get so's I can stand on my feet, you may kick me all 'round this ledge at low water."
"Don't, Uncle Zenas, don't!" Mr. Peters cried passionately. "I might'er got out of bed a good deal sooner than I did, but for sulkin', an' if I'd been a decent kind of a man, we wouldn't be havin' all this trouble now!"
"Sammy!" Captain Eph cried sharply. "What do you mean by runnin' yourself down like that? Uncle Zenas an' I have summered an' wintered with you, an' know there ain't a mean bone in your body, so don't let's hear any more 'bout your bein' to blame for what happened this day. If I hadn't yelled so loud, the fat wouldn't have been spilled, an' then I shouldn't have blundered down-stairs like an old fool."
Mr. Peters rose to his feet, and again Sidney felt certain he was on the point of making a confession; but once more Captain Eph checked him.
"You're all wore up, Sammy, an' that's the fact. Now I want you to go straight to bed without openin' your mouth agin. It's got to be done, if you count on standin' a long watch. Don't answer me back, Sammy Peters, but start this minute!"
The first assistant hesitated an instant, half turned toward Uncle Zenas, and then ran up the stairs as rapidly as possible, causing Captain Eph to say in a low tone:
"Poor Sammy! He's so soft-hearted that our gettin' hurt has broke him all up, an' we've got to keep our eye out, Uncle Zenas, or he'll be down sick through worryin' 'bout us."
Sidney made up a bed for himself in the kitchen, that he might be near at hand in case either of the invalids should need attention, and it was nearly three o'clock in the morning when Mr. Peters awakened him.
"Why didn't you call me sooner?" the lad asked in a whisper, when he saw what time it was. "You had no right to do more than your share of the work."
"Yes I had, Sonny. I'm tryin' to make up for my meanness, an' I'd be mighty glad if it was possible for me to get along without sleep till Cap'n Eph an' Uncle Zenas are in shape once more."
Sidney could make no further protest, understanding as he did all that was in the first assistant's mind, and crept softly up-stairs to the watch-room, while Mr. Peters lay down on the bed he had just vacated.
The lad, eager to show his willingness to perform a full share of the work, remained on watch even after sunrise, and was busily engaged cleaning the lens when Mr. Peters came into the lantern, having been awakened by Captain Eph.
"I want you to understand, Sonny, that this 'ere thing won't go down with me," he said sharply. "There's good reason why I ought'er do the biggest part of this work, an' no call for you to strain yourself."
"There's little chance of my doing anything of the kind," Sidney replied laughingly. "I thought it would be a good plan to let you get as much sleep as possible; but so long as you're awake, I'll go down and see what kind of a breakfast I can fix up. How are they feeling this morning?"
"Uncle Zenas has still got a power of pain, an' I don't reckon there's much show of his bein' any easier for quite a spell. Cap'n Eph's leg is surely a sight. It's swelled twice the reg'lar size; but he won't give in that it hurts him so very bad, though I know it must."
When Sidney entered the kitchen he found the old keeper sitting bolt upright in bed, gently rubbing his injured limb, and the lad suggested that he be allowed to aid him.
"There's no need, Sonny, not a little bit; I'm only doin' this because I've got nothin' else on hand. Why didn't you call Sammy on time?"
"Because he didn't waken me until nearly three o'clock, and I wanted him to have something near a night's rest, sir."
"Wa'al, don't slip up in that way agin, for I've got no notion of havin' you sick on our hands. After this, rout him out at sunrise, no matter what time he turned in. I reckon, Sonny, that you'll have to try your hand at cookin' agin."
"That's what I counted on, sir, and if Uncle Zenas can tell me what to do, I'll get along first rate."
The second assistant not only explained to Sidney how he should perform the necessary work; but, despite the pain with which he was suffering, watched his every movement until a really appetizing meal was on the table.
Then Sidney, after calling Mr. Peters, fed the two invalids as if they were babies, although Captain Eph protested against it, and when the first assistant came down-stairs, asked if he couldn't make something in the way of a short-legged table on which food might be placed while they sat up in bed to eat.
"I'll 'tend to that right off, sir," Mr. Peters replied, evidently pleased at the idea of having additional work to perform, and, after breakfast, while Sidney was putting the kitchen-hospital to rights, he set about the task.
The storm appeared to be increasing, and Captain Eph predicted that it would be a long one, giving his reasons for such an opinion, and adding:
"It'll suit me way down to the ground, for I'd be ashamed to have anybody land here while Uncle Zenas an' I are stretched out on the floor."
"Does it often happen that a landing can't be made for some time?" Sidney asked, as, his work having been done, he sat by the side of the keeper.
"At this season of the year we count on bein' storm-bound a good part of the time, Sonny. Least-ways, the heavy seas shut us in, because the weather must be fairly good for a boat to make a landin' on this 'ere ledge; but we ain't any worse off as to that, than the keepers of a light not sich a dreadful ways from here."
"Meanin' Matinicus," Uncle Zenas said, as if he hoped by taking part in the conversation to forget some portion of his pain.
"Ay, that's the light, Sonny, an' by the charts in my room you can see where it stands. Now give me the book you was readin' last night, an' I'll show you somethin' that tells how much of sufferin' is needed sometimes to keep the lights on our coast burnin'."
Captain Eph found the article on Matinicus Rock Light, and Sidney read aloud the entire chapter; but it is not well to set down here more than a few extracts:
"Matinicus Rock is twenty-five miles out in the ocean from the mainland, directly in the pathway of the ocean-steamers plying from Boston and Portland to Eastport, St. John, Yarmouth, and Halifax, and of the immense fleet of coasting and fishing vessels trading between the United States and the British Provinces. This barren and jagged rock, covering an area of thirty-nine acres at low tide, is inaccessible except during favorable weather....
"In the spring of 1853, Samuel Burgess obtained the position of light keeper; his family consisted of an invalid wife, four small daughters, and a son, who, though making his home on the rock, was absent much of the time fishing in Bay Chaleur and else-where. The eldest daughter, Abbie, fourteen years old, was the keeper's only assistant; she aided in caring for the light as well as attending to the principal household duties. In the occasional absence of her father, the whole care of the light devolved upon her....
"On the morning of January 19, 1856, Abbie being then seventeen years of age, the Atlantic was visited by one of those terrible gales to which it is subject. Her father was away."
It was Abbie herself who wrote the following concerning the storm:
"Early in the day, as the tide rose, the sea made a complete breach over the rock, washing every movable thing away, and of the old dwelling not one stone was left upon another. The new dwelling was flooded, and the windows had to be secured to prevent the violence of the spray from breaking them in. As the tide came, the sea rose higher and higher, till the only endurable places were the light-towers. If they stood we were saved, otherwise our fate was only too certain. But for some reason, I know not why, I had no misgivings, and went on with my work as usual. For four weeks, owing to rough weather, no landing could be effected on this rock."
"In the spring of 1857, Mr. Burgess left the rock to obtain his salary and secure some provisions and fuel. The weather prevented his return, and the family ran short of food. Waiting until famine stared them in the face, the son started in a little skiff equipped with a sail, made by the aid of his sister, to obtain succor. Pushing from the rock in his frail craft, he was at first lost sight of in the trough of the sea; he reappeared on the top of the waves for a short distance, and was seen no more for twenty-one days, during which time the mother and the four girls were reduced to a cup of corn-meal and one egg each per day. Added to risk of perishing of famine in mid-ocean, was the torturing suspense as to the fate of father and son.
"During all this time Abbie attended to the light, cared for her sick mother, and, by her spirit and example, cheered the little family clustered together on this wave-beaten rock in the Atlantic. Fortunately, father and son finally safely returned to their ocean home."