CHAPTER XVII – A DERELICT OF THE SKIES
“What a wonderful thing wireless is!” remarked Sam, as the two young operators stood gazing from the upper deck where their “coop” was perched.
“Yes, if that flying-boat hadn’t carried even the small, weak equipment she has, it would have been all off with them,” agreed Jack; “that is, if they are not at the bottom now.”
“Oh, I hope not!” cried Sam.
“Same here. But still, the sudden way that message cut off looked odd.”
The boys said little more, but kept their attention concentrated, waiting for the first sharp, quick cry that would announce that the derelict of the skies had been sighted. It was nerve-racking, the waiting for that shout.
It seemed that hours had passed, when suddenly there came a sharp bark from the bows. A keen-eyed salt stationed there had seen something even before the officers on the bridge had sighted it through their binoculars.
“What is it, my man?” hailed Captain McDonald through a speaking trumpet.
“Can’t just make out, sir. It might be a big whale, but it looks to me like a boat.”
The officers scrutinized the object pointed out through their glasses. It lay some miles from the ship, spread out darkly on the blue, gently-heaving sea.
“Can you see any human beings on board it?” demanded Captain McDonald anxiously of Mr. Metcalf.
“No, sir, I – yes, I do, too. One man. He is standing up, waving.”
“Give me the glasses, Metcalf.”
The captain took the binoculars.
“Yes, you’re right; there’s a man on board. But how long he will keep afloat, I don’t know. Lucky the sea is calm.”
“You may well say that, sir. In my opinion, whatever he is standing on is due to sink before long.”
“My opinion, too. But hullo, what is that coming up over the horizon there?”
“That smoke, sir? That must be the City of Mexico.”
“Yes, you’re right, it is. I can see her masts now. She’s coming up fast.”
“We don’t want to let her beat us, sir.”
“No, indeed; signal below for more speed.”
Mr. Metcalf jerked the engine-room telegraph. A quickened impulse of the steel hull followed. Inky smoke rolled in volumes from the two funnels of the big ship. Never had she gone faster. Under the forced draught in the sweating stokeholds below, the firemen toiled desperately. Steam screeched from the ’scape pipes in a constant roar, testifying to the big head of power being carried in the ship’s boilers.
It was a race to thrill the most critical, and a contest of speed, too, which had, as its goal, a human life; for, from the frantic signals now being made by the man on the drifting flying-boat, it was plain that he did not expect to keep above the water much longer.
The Mexico’s wireless man was signaling Jack.
“Hit it up, you Tropic Queen.”
“We’re doing nicely, thank you,” came back Jack. “What’s the matter with your old sea-going smoke wagon?”
In this way the messages between the two on-rushing steamships were flashed back and forth above the sparkling sea, while the drama of the race for a life was going forward.
And now the passengers had caught sight of the tiny object adrift on the vast ocean. A hoarse cheer ascended to the boat decks, in which the shrill voices of women mingled. They were shouting encouragement and advice to the castaway of the sky.
He replied by waving. The speed of the ship suddenly was reduced. Under Quartermaster Schultz a boat crew was made up. Jack begged to be allowed to be one of them and, to his delight, the captain told him to cut along.
Sam, although deeply disappointed at being left behind, nevertheless cheered with the rest as the boat was lowered and struck the water with a splash. Then, as the steamer’s propellers ground in reverse to check her way, it dashed off toward the stricken flying-boat.
The craft could be seen quite plainly now – a dainty affair with golden, shimmering wings supporting a boat-like structure amidships. Jack was familiar with the general construction of flying-boats, the very latest type of aëroplane, from pictures he had seen in magazines, but he had never seen a real one before. He marveled that so frail looking a craft could have made her way so far out to sea.
But as they neared the stricken airship, shouting words of encouragement to her lone occupant, a startling thing happened. Simultaneously a groan burst from the throats of the boat crew.
The flying-boat vanished from the surface of the sea as if she had been a smudge wiped off a slate with a sponge.
CHAPTER XVIII – A LEAP FOR A LIFE
Had the lone navigator of the craft perished when she gave the last swift and decisive plunge to the bottom? A groan that went up from the decks of the Tropic Queen, which had steamed quite close, seemed to indicate that the enthralled onlookers thought so.
But suddenly Jack gave a shout:
“There he is! Over there! Pull for your lives, men!”
The brawny arms of the oarsmen needed no encouragement. Every man bent to his work till the stout ash sweeps curved and their backs cracked.
The boat flew across the water to a tiny, bobbing, black dot, the head of the castaway aviator. As they drew closer, they could see his face turned toward them imploringly. He was a young man, black-haired and apparently good-looking, although they did not pay much attention to his appearance just then.
As they drew alongside, his strength suddenly seemed to give out after the brave struggle he had made, and he disappeared under the water. Even as he did so, a figure leaped from the boat in a long, clean dive. When Jack, for it was the young wireless man who had made the daring leap, reappeared, he held in his arms the body of the half-drowned man.
A dozen eager hands drew them aboard the boat, while from both the big steamers, for the City of Mexico had now come up, there arose a mighty roar of recognition for the plucky rescue. From the Mexico’s signal halliards a message of congratulation was fluttering as the Tropic Queen’s boat started back for her ship. In the wireless coop, Sam and the City of Mexico’s operator were busy exchanging comments by radio.
The aviator soon recovered and was able to talk to Jack as the boat crew pulled back. His name was Ramon de Garros, and he was a young Frenchman. He was making the flight from Palm Beach to Havana in the flying-boat in the interests of a hotel company owning giant hostelries in both places.
He had set out the day before, thinking to finish the flight within a few hours. Instead, an accident to his engine had compelled him to alight on the surface of the ocean. Then adverse winds had driven him far off his course, and finally his gasoline had given out. He luckily had a wireless apparatus on board, a new, light device with which he had been experimenting for the government. If it had not been for this, his chance of rescue would have been slim.
The rails of the ship were lined with men and women who gave the returning rescuers a hearty roar of welcome as they drew alongside. De Garros, with the volatility of a true Frenchman, waved his hand to show that he was not injured. This brought another cheer.
The boat was hoisted home and the crowd pressed about it as Jack clambered out and extended his hand to De Garros, who was still feeble from his trying experience. Men and women tried to grasp Jack’s hand, but he brushed past them, feeling awkward and embarrassed as he conducted De Garros to the captain’s cabin.
In the crowd was Miss Jarrold, and as they passed her, to Jack’s astonishment, she and De Garros exchanged looks of unmistakable recognition. The girl turned away the next instant, but De Garros exclaimed to Jack:
“What is that young lady doing on this ship?”
“She is accompanying her uncle,” rejoined Jack. “I believe they are on a pleasure cruise.”
“Her uncle is on board?”
There was a note almost of anxiety in the rescued aviator’s voice as he put the question.
“Yes. You know him?”
The reply astonished Jack. De Garros’ tone was more than vehement as he rejoined:
“Know him! I know him too well! I – but never mind about that now.”
Jack had no time to ask questions; indeed, he would have considered it impertinent to have done so. They now reached the captain’s cabin and that dignitary himself came forward to greet De Garros. The aviator explained that he wished to be transported to Kingston, Jamaica, which was the first port of call of the Tropic Queen, and that there he would cable for money for his passage and so forth.
Captain McDonald greeted him warmly, and clothes from the wardrobe of the third officer, who was about his size, were found for De Garros, who was beginning to shiver, warm though the air was. Jack had to hurry off to relieve Sam at the key. As he left, he and De Garros shook hands warmly.
“I shall see more of you,” said the young Frenchman.
“I hope so,” responded Jack. “I should like to hear more about your air voyage, when you have time.”
“I can always make time for the man who saved my life,” was the rejoinder of the aërial castaway.
“Oh, shucks!” exclaimed Jack, not being able to think of anything else to say.
Then he hurried back on the job. Half an hour later, in dry clothes, he was at his key again and exchanging joshes with the operator of the Mexico, as both the stately crafts stood on their courses once more after participating in what was, probably, the first rescue of an aërial castaway on record.
CHAPTER XIX – A CALL IN THE NIGHT
Sapphire days of steaming through deep blue tropic seas beneath a cloudless sky passed by dreamily. The Tropic Queen was now in the Caribbean, rolling lazily southward through azure water flecked with golden patches of gulf weed – looking like marine golden-rod. Fleeing flocks of flying fish scuttered over the water as the steamer’s sharp bow nosed into the stuff, like a covey of partridges rising from cover before a sportsman’s gun.
To Jack and Sam, making their first voyage in these waters, everything was new and fascinating. They never tired of leaning over the rail, watching the different forms of marine life that were to be seen almost every moment.
Jack had succeeded in attaching a bell to the wireless apparatus, which, while it did not sound powerfully when a wireless wave beat against the antennæ, yet answered its purpose so long as they were in the vicinity of the wireless room. Jack had hopes, in time, of perfecting a device which would give a sharp, insistent ring and awaken even the soundest sleeper. The boy knew that on many small steamers only one wireless operator is, from motives of economy, carried. When such an operator is asleep, therefore, the wireless “ears” of his ship are deaf. But with an alarm bell, such as Jack hoped to bring to perfection, there would be no danger of the man’s not awakening in time to avert what might prove to be grave disaster.
They now began to steam past small islands, bare, desolate spots for the most part, but surrounded by waters clear as crystal and gleaming like jewels. Some of them were covered with a sparse sort of brush, but generally they were mere specks of sand in a glowing sea of azure.
One evening Jack was sitting at the key, when through the air there came, beating at his ears, a wireless summons. Such messages were common enough and the boy languidly, for the night was stiflingly hot, reached out a hand for his pencil in order to jot down whatever might be coming.
But the next instant he was sitting bolt upright, sending out with strong, nervous fingers a crashing reply to the message that had come to him.
“To any ship in vicinity,” it read. “Send us a boat-load of provisions and water or we shall perish.”
“Who are you?” flashed Jack’s key in reply.
Feebly, as if the supply of juice was running low, the mysterious sender of the urgent appeal sent back his answer.
“The Sombrero Island Light. The monthly provision boat has not arrived from the mainland. We are almost destitute.”
Jack looked up at his wireless map. Sure enough, on a tiny speck of land not far off, was marked in blue, with a red star, the location of the island light, the coloring denoting that, like many modern lighthouses, it was equipped with wireless.
“How many of you are there?” inquired Jack’s radio.
“Two. But my partner, an old man, is bedridden from suffering. I have not slept for many nights and am almost exhausted.”
“Keep up your courage,” rejoined Jack, “and I’ll see what I can do.”
He hurried forward with his message to the bridge. He found the captain taking his ease in slippers and pajamas outside the sacred precincts of his cabin. Jack told him briefly about the communication he had had, and then handed the skipper the notes he had made of the radio conversation.
The captain looked annoyed. A frown furrowed his forehead.
“Confound it all,” he muttered, “I was making up my mind for a record run and this means delay. But we can’t neglect to aid those unfortunates who are probably suffering the pangs of hunger and thirst at this very moment.”
He paused as if reflecting, while Jack stood by respectfully. The captain had not dismissed him, and the boy judged that he was considering some plan.
“Come into the chart room,” he said presently; and Jack followed him through a doorway into the chart room where the sea-maps were stowed neatly away in overhead racks.
The captain took down one. Jack saw that it showed the Caribbean. With a brown forefinger the captain checked off the course of the Tropic Queen and her present whereabouts, as marked that day by the chief officer when the log was written up.
“No chance of getting this ship anywhere within ten miles of the island,” he said, after he had examined the soundings carefully. “It is one of the worst places charted in these seas.”
“You mean it is unapproachable, sir?” asked Jack.
“Yes, to a degree. It is surrounded by shoals and reefs. It would be suicide to try to navigate a ship of this size amongst them.”
“What can be done then, sir?” asked Jack, who knew that he would have to send a reply to the lighthouse keepers.
“We shall be about twenty miles to the east of the island early to-morrow morning,” said the captain. “You may inform them that I shall send off a boat and perhaps the doctor, if I can spare him.”
“Very well, sir.”
Jack started away, but then lingered.
“Well, what is it?”
The captain swung around in his chair and looked at the boy who hesitated in the doorway.
“I – I wondered if it would be possible for me to go along with the boat, sir?” asked Jack haltingly. There was something very disconcerting in that direct glance of the captain’s.
“In the boat, you mean?”
“Yes, sir. You see they have wireless there. I might be of some use. I – ”
“There, don’t bother to make excuses,” laughed the captain good-humoredly. “You really want to go for the sake of the trip, don’t you?”
“Well, I – ” began Jack, feeling rather foolish at having his mind read so unerringly.
“Will your assistant stand watch if I let you go? The ship must not be left without a wireless man.”
“Sam will stay, sir,” rejoined Jack. “It is his watch, anyway.”
“All right, then, consider it settled. Cut along now and send out that message. Those poor devils must be waiting eagerly for it.”
“Very well, sir, and thank you,” exclaimed the delighted Jack.
“Don’t thank me,” said the captain, with a gruffness that a twinkle in his eye betrayed. “I heard before you joined the ship that you had a faculty for rushing in where you had no business to be, and now I see that I was not misinformed.”
CHAPTER XX – TO THE RESCUE
“Aren’t you going to turn in?”
Sam asked the question as, at midnight, he came on watch. He took his position at the key, but, to his surprise, Jack did not show his usual alacrity to seek his bunk.
“I guess I’ll sit up a while,” rejoined Jack, without a trace of drowsiness.
Then he added, as Sam looked his bewilderment, “Sammy, my boy, just cast your eye over those copies of radios I got and answered while you were asleep.”
Sam obeyed, scanning the despatches and the answers to them, copied in carbon, with deep interest. When he had finished he looked up.
“I can guess the reason for your staying up now,” he said.
“Well?” asked Jack, his eyes dancing.
“You’re going along in that boat!”
“A good guess,” laughed Jack. “You don’t mind, do you, Sam?”
“Not a bit. If you will insist on risking your neck, it’s no affair of mine,” laughed Sam.
“Hum, you’re a nice, sympathetic little friend, aren’t you?” inquired Jack, giving Sam a dig in the ribs. “But seriously, though,” he added, “you don’t think it selfish of me to go off alone and – ”
“Get a ducking?” chuckled Sam. “No, I don’t. I’d rather be comfortable here on board than trying to make a landing on an island beach. It’s ten to one you get tipped over in the surf.”
“Not much danger of that,” said Jack; “we’ve got some skillful oarsmen in the crew, and you know that boat drill is one of the fads of this line.”
“Well, what time do you expect to start?”
“Haven’t any idea, but the skipper said we ought to be up with the island by dawn.”
“If I were you, I’d turn in and get some sleep.”
“Couldn’t take a wink. I’m too keyed up about the trip.”
Jack looked at his watch, the fine gold one that had been presented to him in Antwerp on his first voyage, in recognition of a brave deed.
“Not one o’clock yet,” he muttered impatiently.
“It won’t be light for four hours anyhow,” counseled Sam; “you’d better get into your bunk.”
But Jack was so fearful of being left behind that he refused to turn in. However, after a time, as he sat in the spare chair of the wireless room, his eyelids did close in spite of all he could do to prevent them.
Sam smiled as, turning around, he saw that his chum was asleep.
It was Schultz, the old quartermaster, who aroused Jack by poking his head into the door of the wireless room.
“Ahoy, vere is dot Yack vot vants to go midt us py der Somprero Lighdt?”
Jack awakened with a start.
“Eh? What?” he demanded sleepily.
“Vell, don’t you vant to go midt us py der Somprero?” asked Schultz. “Oder dot you schleep?”
Broad awake now, Jack sprang to his feet.
“All right, Schultz, I’ll be with you in a jiffy,” he exclaimed.
“Don’t make no nefer mindt aboudt gedtting prettied oop,” grinned the old quartermaster grimly, as Jack plunged his face into a basin of cold water and parted his tousled hair; “maype vee gedt idt a spill in der vater before ve gedt back der ship py.”
“There, what did I tell you?” demanded Sam triumphantly; but Jack only grinned.
There was a great trampling about on the decks outside. The men who had been selected to form the boat’s crew, the pick of the sailors, were running about, loading the small craft with provisions and barrels of fresh water.
To the men this sudden call for a trip to the shore came in the nature of a junket. It afforded an agreeable bit of relaxation in the midst of the hum-drum monotony of sea life. A sailor on such an expedition is like a boy off on a picnic. The men joked and laughed as, in the gray of the early light, they hustled about between boat and storeroom.
Dr. Flynn, to Jack’s disappointment, was unable to go. A sick patient on board demanded all his attention. But he put up a case of medicines for the old light keeper and gave Jack directions how to administer them; for, by means of the old man’s symptoms, transmitted by wireless through Jack, the doctor of the Tropic Queen had been able to diagnose the trouble as being a case of tropic fever.
At last all was ready, and a few early-rising passengers saw the boat lowered and pulled away for the dim speck of land on the far horizon that marked the site of Sombrero Island. A few moments later the stopping of the Tropic Queen’s engines aroused the other passengers, and before the breakfast bugle blew, the ship was humming with conjecture and surmise as to the reason for the sudden check in the voyage.
A bulletin, posted by the captain’s orders, dispelled the mystery. It also announced that the boat was expected back by evening at the latest.
CHAPTER XXI – A TALE OF THE SEA
The boat, urged by strong arms, fairly flew over the water. Quartermaster Schultz served out breakfast to the crew in relays, for no time had been taken for eating before they started. Jack felt in high spirits. The morning was clear and quite cool. The scorching heat of the day would not come till later, when the sun rose higher.
“Ach, idt vos a badt ding to be on a lighdthouse midout help from der supply boat undt not knowing if you vill lif or die,” said the old quartermaster, as he sat in the stern sheets with Jack. “I rememper ven I vos younger vunce I vos tired of der sea undt ships, undt I take idt a yob on a lighdthouse off der coast of Oregon on der Bacific.
“Der Big Boint Lighdt vos its name. It vos known as vun of der loneliest of all der lighdts on dot rocky coast. Budt I didn’t care about dot, or I dought I didn’t. Der pay vos goodt undt dere vos annunder keeper, an oldt man, oldt enough to be mein fadder, I reckon.
“Vell, der supply boat idt take me to der lighdt, budt a badt storm came up after dey hadt landed me, undt dey had to go avay again. To get to der lighdt from der schmall boat dey sendt me ashore in, I hadt to be hoisted oop in a sordt of basket from der boat by a derrick. Der lighdt vos just as lonely as I hadt heardt idt vos. Idt stood on a big rock vich formed der endt of a sordt of peninsula of rocks dot ran out two miles from der shore.
“Idt vos buildt of stone undt lookedt strong undt substantial. Idt needed to pe so, I dought, as I lookedt aboudt me undt sized der place oop.
“Der oldt man on der lighdt, his name vos Abbott, velcomed me. He vos a fine-looking oldt man, midt pale blue eyes undt a long white beard. After de boat hadt left, pecause of der rising sea, der oldt man toldt me dot ve vos in for a badt storm.
“‘Let idt come,’ said I, ‘dis tower is as strong aber der rock idt is built on. Nuddings can harm idt.’
“He didn’t say nuddings, budt showed me my quarters vich vos in der lower pardt of de tower. Den he took me oop to show me der lamp, an oil burner midt a two minute flash.
“‘Many a poor sould vill bless dis lamp to-nighdt,’ he saidt to me, undt den he vent on to tell me dot his son vos a sailor on de China run on a pig tea clipper.
“‘He is homevard boundt now, undt ought to pe off dis coast to-nighdt,’ he said. ‘His ship runs into Portlandt.’
“Vell, ve cooked our supper undt ate idt vhile der sea oudtside kept rising undt der windt hadt a sordt of a moan in idt dot made you dink of somepody in bain. I couldt see dot ve vere in for a mighty badt nighdt. After ve had eaten, der oldt man, his name vos Abbott, climbed oop der tower undt lighted der lamps.
“Den he sedt in motion der clockvurk dot kept der lighdt revolving all t’rough der nighdt giffing oudt der regular flashes, as sedt down on der charts. Ven dot vos done dere vosn’t much to do budt to smoke undt talk. Der oldt man vosn’t much of a handt for talking, budt aboudt his son he had a lodt to say. Vot a fine poy he vos, undt how he vos going to try to gedt him to leave der sea after dot voyage, der oldt man knowing der sea undt how efery voyage may pe a sailor’s last. He showed me his picture, too. A fine figure of a poy. Ach, yes, undt to dink of vot vos to happen dot night! Poor oldt Abbott, dot vos many years ago, budt I can hear him still telling me aboudt his poy Harry, undt vot a fine poy he vos.
“Vell, py der time idt vos my turn to go to bed der vind vos howling undt tearing roundt der lighdt like a pack of wolves. Der sea vos gedtting oop, too. You could hear idt roar like vild beasts roundt der place. I foundt myself being mighty gladt dot der tower vos of solidt stone. Nudding else couldt have stoodt idt.
“Outside der lighdt vos a small stone shanty. In dis vos der boiler vich made der fog-horn blow. Oldt man Abbott toldt me pefore I go to bedt dot I hadt bedder start der fires oop undter der boiler, so dot if anyting happened to der lighdt ve vould still be able to varn der ships.
“Ven I open der door to go to der boiler room der vind almost knocks me off my feedt. Der spray blows in my face like knives. Der sea vos all vhite, like idt vos boiling. I dell you, dot vos a nighdt, budt idt vos nudding to vot vos to come.
“I got steam oop undt banked der fires. Den I turned in till oldt man Abbott should rouse me for my vatch. I didn’t sleep much, vhat vith der devils howling of vind, and der roar of der sea. Ven oldt man Abbott vake me, he say dot I shall come oop into der lantern.
“I hurried on a few clo’es and climbed oop. Himmel! At der top of der tower you couldt feel dot stone shake, der vind vos so fierce! Oldt man Abbott, he vos yust sitting dere saying nudding, budt staring out. He didn’t turn ven I came in, budt yust kept on staring. Budt at last he turn round to me undt holdt oop vun of his vingers, solemn like.
“‘Hark!’ he say.
“‘I don’t can hear idt nuddings,’ I saidt.
“He shook his oldt vhite head.
“‘Don’t you hear dem calling?’ he saidt. ‘Listen!’
“I began to dink dot der oldt man hadt gone crazy, as lighdt keepers sometimes do. For der life of me I could hear nuddings budt der vind undt der sea. All at vonce a vave came crashing against der glass of der lantern. You could hear der vater swish undt crash on der lenses.
“Der tower shook as if idt hadt been struck a blow. I pegan to feel a bidt scared. A few more vaves like dot undt nudding dot man buildt could standt idt. Budt oldt man Abbott, he say nudding. Py undt py I saw his lips move undt I dought maype he vos praying.
“I not interrupt him budt come downstairs again. I know I must see to der furnace under der boiler in der vistle house. But ven I opened der door I vos blown in again. Dot vind vos so strong dot idt drove me righdt back, undt I vos a strong young man den, too, midt my muscles hardened on ships all ofer der vurld. I saw dot if I vanted to endt idt my life, all I had to do vos to try to gedt to dot boiler house. So I gif idt oop, undt come in py der tower again.
“I go oop py der lighdt. Ach, it vos terrible oop dere! Der seas vos so pig dot dey sweep righdt ofer der tower. Small rocks undt stones hammered against der lenses till you vould haf dought dey must be smashed in! Budt dey vere of t’ick, strong glass undt dey stoodt idt.
“Oldt man Abbott, he asks me to go pelow undt gedt him some coffee. Py dot time idt is gedtting on toward morning. Der storm is schreeching undt howling undt ramping like ten t’ousand teufels. Sometimes ven a big vave hit der tower idt shake like dere vos an eart’quake gotd idt in its teef!
“‘Schultz,’ I say by meinselfs, ‘you are one pig fool, mein fine fellow, to leave der sea. Aber idt is bedder to die on a goodt ship dan in der wreck of a lighdthouse.’
“I haf youst aboudt godt der coffee ready ven der oldt man comes down. Dere vos a vild look in his eyes like he hadt seen a ghost.
“‘Dere’s a ship, a fine ship, she’s driven ashore on der Squabs,’ he said. Der Squabs peing vot ve called der long neck of small rocks petween der Big Lighdt undt der shore.
“‘Impossible!’ saidt I. ’Ve vould half heardt idt der rockets aber der guns if such hadt been der case.’
“’Pelief idt or nodt as you like,’ he said, ‘budt dere is a ship ashore. I heardt der poor soulds on her screaming undt praying.’
“I looked at him, dinking he had suddenly gone crazy. Budt he looked quite sane undt serious.
“‘Idt is a terrible ding,’ he said, ‘to die like dot midtoudt a grave budt der sea to lay your headt in, till der judgment day ven der good book tells us dere shall pe no more sea.’
“‘Mr. Abbott,’ I saidt, ‘I dink you hadt bedder dake your coffee undt go to bedt. You are overtired.’
“‘I shall keep oop till der storm dies oudt,’ he saidt, undt I shall nefer forget his voice as he saidt dot. ‘I must see vot ship dot vos dot drove ashore.’
“Suddenly, above us, ve heardt a terrible noise as if der lighdthouse vos peing torn to bits. Idt came from der oopper pardt of der tower. I rushed to der foot of der steps undt vos medt py a rush of vater.
“As idt swept py me idt almost knocked me off my feedt! Righdt avay I know vot hadt happened. A big vave hadt smashed in der light, or more likely a big rock, hurled py der vave, hadt done der damage.
“Midt oldt man Abbott close behindt me, I fought my vay oop der steps.
“Himmel! I nefer forget vot ve findt!
“Der whole top of der lantern, idt hadt been cut off as if py a knife! Only ragged edges of stone showed vhere idt hadt been. Der lighdthouse vos no longer a lighdthouse, undt vos of no goodt to varn ships of der danger.
“As ve stoodt dere annuder big vave come sweeping ofer undt half drowned us. A big rock just missed mein headt, undt der vater go pouring down der stairs like a cascade.
“‘Ve must go pelow undt shut der door at der bottom of der stairs,’ I say; ‘uddervise ve pe drowned oudt.’
“Der oldt man nodded as if he only half understoodt.
“‘Yah, yah; drowned, drowned, drowned,’ he saidt to himself; ‘drowned like der poor folk on der wreck.’
“I got him down der stairs pefore annuder big vave come, undt den shut der door so dot no more big vaves come into der room. Budt der place vos a sight! Dere vos six inches of vater in dere vich hadn’t flowed oudt unter der door. Budt liddle by liddle idt drained oudt.
“No more big vaves come. Idt look as if der storm, hafing wrecked der lighdthouse, vos content to lie down undt pe quiet for a vhile. Bimeby, ven der vind drop, I go out py der boiler house.
“Idt hadt gone! Vere idt hadt stood dere vos nudding! Dose vaves hadt taken idt off der rock as if idt hadt been a shellfish!
“‘Ach, dis is badt,’ I say to meinself. ‘Der lighdthouse is wrecked undt I lose my yob!’
“Der storm died down fast, undt py der time idt vos daylighdt, dere being nuddings to do budt to sit round undt vait for der supply boat to come back, I dropped off into a soundt sleep. I vakened oop an hour or two later. Der kitchen vere ve hadt been sitting vos empty. I vent up into der ruins of der lamp, budt oldt man Abbott vos not dere eidder.
“I call for him budt dere comes no answer. Den I go oudtside on der rock undt I findt him. He is lying very still on der edge of der vater. Close py him is a big log vich look like part of der spar of a ship. Preddy soon I see dat dere is someting on der spar, undt I look undt see dot idt is a man. He is quite dead, dat I see by a look adt his face.