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 a.s.sistant 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."

"G.o.d 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. Ephraim 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' ash.o.r.e if they haven't got too many clothes on," Uncle Zenas replied mournfully, and then he raised his head quickly as the m.u.f.fled 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 G.o.d 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 gla.s.s, 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 n.o.body 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 pa.s.sed, 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 pa.s.sengers aboard or not! Be lively, Sonny, an' thank G.o.d 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 a.s.sistant 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 sh.o.r.e and the two watchers ran into the water waist-deep in order to lend a hand.