VI.
_FOG._
"Here are some letters for you," said the light-keeper, returning fromShipton one noon and handing Dave a package of letters.
"This is a funny-looking one," thought Dave. "It is not written, butprinted. Somebody sent it that did not know how to write. Let me seewhat it says:--
"'DEAR DAVIE I THOUGHT I WOULD WRITE YOU A LITTLE AND SAY I AM WELL ANDHOPE YOU ARE GRANSIR IS BETTER BECAUSE I READ TO HIM HE SAYS I LIKE MYTEACHER SHE IS YOUR SISTER SHE SAYS SHE MAY TAKE ME TO THE LIGHTHOUSEAND I WOULD LIKE TO COME I SHALL PRAY FOR YOU WHEN THE STORMS COME ANDEVERY DAY YOUR TRUE FRIEND
"'BARTHOLOMEW TRAFTON.'"
Dave was so much pleased with this communication that he read it to thelight-keeper.
"Dave, I wish you would invite your sister and her friends to come downhere. Ask those boys who were with you in the schooner."
"That would be pleasant. Thank you."
"I will try to make it interesting for them."
"Oh, I wish you would do one thing."
"What is that?"
"Tell us what you know about lighthouses."
"Well, let me think. There is one thing I could do. I have in mydrawer an account of lighthouses I have written off at spare moments,just to keep me busy, you know, and I could read that."
"I think we would all like that very much."
"All right; let us plan for a visit."
"I think you have had some visitors since you have been here that youdid not plan for."
"Yes, indeed; and they may come any time, just as your party surprisedme. Sometimes, though near me, they may not get to me. I was sayingthe first day you came here it was the tenth anniversary of a greatstorm. It was a foreign vessel, a Norwegian bark. The vessel struck onthe bar--"
"Couldn't they see the light?"
"The fog was very thick, so that they couldn't have got much warningfrom the light. The first thing to do now in a fog, of course, is tostart the signal. But we had none then--only an old bell I used tostrike; but when the wind was to south'ard it carried away from the barthe sound of the bell. This was a southerly storm, and such storms arenot likely to be long, but they may blow very hard while they do last. Iheard the storm roaring through the night; and when I looked out in themorning, there was this vessel just on the bar! Oh, what a tumult shewas in! Such a raging of the waves all around that vessel! I always gooff to the help of people if I can reach them; but there was no reachingthat vessel with a boat. Yes, I could see them and they could see me inthe morning, when the fog lifted, but there was no getting from one tothe other. I could see them clinging to the rigging, hanging there aslong as the waves would let them. I would watch some immense sea--andthey roll up big in a storm, I tell ye--come rushing at the vessel,rolling over it, completely burying the deck. After such seas some onewould be missing. I never want to see that sight again. There they weredying, and I couldn't get anywhere near them! The vessel did not breakup at once. She was there the next day, and I went to her, and otherswent, but we found nobody aboard. I think they saved part of her cargo;but the waves pounded her up fearfully, and carried off many things ofher cargo. One by one they came ashore. It did touch me one day, whenI was down on the rocks fishing, near the lighthouse at low tide, to seesomething floating on the water. 'Why, that is a box,' I said. We areall curious, you know, and I wondered what was in that box. I went tothe lighthouse, got a long pole, and reached the box and brought itashore. I'll show it to you if you would like to see it."
"I would, very much."
"I have always kept it here, for it seems to belong to the lighthouserather than anywhere else. Here it is."
He went to the closet in the kitchen, and reaching up to the highestshelf, took down a box of sandalwood. It was an elaborately carvedpiece of work, and had served among the articles for a lady's toilet.When the light-keeper opened it Dave saw two handkerchiefs, ahair-brush, a comb, and there was also a man's picture. Dave lookedwith interest at this relic washed up out of the buried secrets of thesea, and still keeping its own secret there in the light-keeper'skitchen.
"Did you ever get any clue to the ownership of this, Mr. Tolman?" askedDave.
"Let me tell you of one strange thing that happened about a year ago.One night I was very sure I heard a cry out on the bar. The waves makeso much noise that it is hard to hear anybody if they do shout; butsometimes when the sea is still you can hear a call. Said I to Waters,'Timothy, I hear a hollering.' Said he, 'I think I hear it myself. Letus go to the door and listen.' We were both in the kitchen, you know.'Twas the fore part of the evening, though dark. Sure enough, at thedoor we could hear somebody shout. 'Timothy,' said I, 'that is a plaincase. Let's launch the boat.' So off we put. The person kepthollering and we kept rowing. There on the bar we found a man. Crazyhe acted, and he couldn't tell much about himself--how he got there, orwhere his boat was. He was not sober. On our way to the light whatshould we run into but a boat. 'Here is the rest of him,' whisperedTimothy. We took him and his boat to the light. How we got him up theladder I don't know, but we tied a rope round him, and drew him, andshoved him, and somehow got him into the lighthouse. The next morninghe was entirely sober. Of course he was very much ashamed, but he couldnot give any account of himself, only that he had been in a boat and hadtrouble. Well, for some reason I had that box down from the shelf thatmorning he left, and I had been looking at it. He saw it. He startedas if the box had struck him. He stepped up to it softly, looked intoit, and said, with an amazed look as I ever saw on a person,'Where--where--did you get it?' 'It floated from a wreck off here.''Anybody ever claim it?' 'Never,' I said; 'but I am ready to give itup to any claimant.' 'Well,' said he, 'if anybody comes and claims it,you give it up; but if not, don't part with it till you hear from me.'I asked him what he meant; but he would make no explanation, onlyrepeating his request. He was very grateful for what we had done, and Itook the liberty to say in a proper way that he must take warning, or hewould be wrecked on a bar where there would be no saving. He burst intotears, thanked me, said he knew he was a great fool, and left in hisboat. We watched him, and saw him row to a vessel lying at anchor inthe harbour. Then we guessed he had been ashore the day before in theship's boat, and got into mischief. I told Timothy we would find outabout the vessel; but a fog came up and kept us here. She slipped outto sea as much a stranger as ever. Fishermen afterwards told us it wasa vessel that ran in for shelter.
"From that day to this I have never heard about the man. Sometimes Ithink it was a foreigner; again I fancy it is somebody at Shipton, but Icould not say. I am there very little to know about people; and Timothycouldn't tell about it. He don't belong to Shipton. There is the box.Pretty, isn't it?"
Dave nodded a yes.
"Mr. Tolman, could you tell the man if you should see him again?" askedDave.
"Could I? yes, indeed."
"How did he look? What was the colour of his hair, his eyes; and howwas he dressed?"
"Now--you will think it strange--I can't tell any of his features orwhat clothes he wore, and yet if I should see him I don't believe Ishould miss him. I could tell him by the look of his eyes--a look thatsomehow appealed to me--a look without hope. Often when at night I seethe froth on the bar in the moonlight, I seem to hear that man callingto me, and I take it as a sign that he is still in a worse fix than ifon the bar. It is an awful curse, rum, and I am a sworn foe to it."
Here the light-keeper placed the sandal-wood box again on its shelf, andDave turned to look out of the window near the kitchen table.
"See here, Mr. Tolman; what's that?"
"Where?"
"Floating and curling over that point!"
"Can't you guess?"
"Looks like fog! Yes, I can see now plainly. Oh, can we start up thefog-signal?"
"Wait a while. When the fog is so thick that you can't see BreakersP'int, then we start t
he fog-signal. That is the sign in that direction.On the other side of the lighthouse it is Jones's Neck that must behidden. I guess both the P'int and the Neck will be covered this time.I must start the fire in the engine and have everything ready, at anyrate. Let us go into the fog-signal tower."
Dave was delighted.
"I suppose, Mr. Tolman, people like to hear the signal?"
"Yes, if in a fog. They want to know which way to go. Even fishermenabout here, who are supposed to know the way about the harbour, may bebothered by the fog; but people just off for pleasure may be bothered agood deal."
"See here! Isn't the fog lifting round Jones's Neck, Mr. Tolman?"
Dave was looking out of a window in the tower, and Mr. Tolman joinedhim.
"You are right; and Breakers P'int is clear too. We will hold on then,have everything ready, you know, for the fog may shut down suddenly."
Dave continued to look out of the window.
"Coming again!" he cried to the light-keeper, who had kept up his firesin the engine-room, but had gone for a few minutes to the kitchen. "Fogis round Breakers Point and Jones's Neck!"
Yes: like an immense gray sponge the mist had once more advanced, wipingout the vessels slowly sailing into harbour, the far outlying points ofland, and now erased an islet called the Nub, mingling all in oneconfusing cloud.
"All right," said the light-keeper; "we will start the signal."
There was the driving of a stout piston; there was the stirring of a bigwheel; there was the movement of other machinery; and there wasfinally--"What a noise overhead!" thought the listening Dave. It seemedas if five thousand bees all buzzing at once, twenty-five thousandcrickets all shrilly piping at once, and fifty thousand wood-sawyers allsawing at once, had combined their noises and were forcing all throughthe flaming fog-trumpet above. For ten seconds Dave held his fingers inhis ears. Then there was a blessed stillness, save as the play of themachinery interrupted it.
"What do you think of that?" asked Mr. Tolman, grinning broadly. "Somelung power left in it yet."
"Lung power! They can hear that down to the Cape of Good Hope. One isenough for both sides of the ocean."
"Want another? Time is 'most up. Here she goes!"
She went.
"Toot--buzz--boom--whiz--fizz-z-z--bim-m-m-m!"
Among the breakers tumbling on the sandy shores, along the face ofweather-beaten island-edges, down amid the waves and up in the cloudsechoed the sharp, strong, fog-piercing, ear-cutting blast. And whereverit went it said, "Of fog I warn-n-n-n-n!" for ten seconds.
In one of the intervals of rest Dave remarked, "Now that must be kept upas long as the fog lasts?"
"Of course."
"Doesn't it get tiresome?"
"Well, that's how you take it. I was told of a lighthouse where thesignal was going twenty-one days."
"Day after day! Just think of it!"
"Well, there is this side of it: off on the water there is somebodybewildered by the mist, perplexed day after day, it may be, and theycatch the sound of the signal. Oh, ain't that good news? That's whatmakes me contented at it. I have sometimes wished I was a musician, andcould please others by my playing; but I tell you I have stood by thisold engine dark, rainy, foggy nights, and oh, I have been so happystarting up and sending out this old whistle. There it is!"
"Toot--buzz--boom--whiz--bim-m-m-m!"
"Somebody heard that, you may believe, and somebody, too, more pleasedthan if I had been a whole band of music, and had sent out just thesweetest tune."
The light-keeper stood by the tugging engine and wiped the perspirationfrom his brow, and his big, rosy face was as happy as that of aschool-boy going off on a long vacation.
"Hark! what is that? Sounds like a bell," said Dave.
"It is the bell-buoy at Sunk Rock. We only hear that when the wind isblowing off the sea."
"Didn't hear it before."
"Wind hasn't been just right to hear it loud. I have caught it sinceyou came; but then I am used to its sound, and can tell it easily."
"I must see it."
"Oh, we shall have a chance, I guess."
The fog-signal had been shrieking away an hour, and Dave heard anothersound.
"That isn't a bell I hear now," he said.
"Well, no; that's a hollering."
Was it a cry from the lighthouse tower or a cry outside of it? a cryfrom what quarter? Dave looked out of a window near him. He could seeonly fog above and waves below.
"I will go down to the door and try to see who or what it is," saidDave, "for there is that cry again."
He descended to the door of the tower and looked down through the holein the platform. Then he saw a dory tossing in the water that nowflowed all about the tower, swashing against its iron walls. There wasa boy in the boat. He was not looking up, but clinging to a ropestretched for purposes of mooring from the tower to a sunken rock fortyfeet away. Steadying his boat by this rope, he was waiting for someresponse to his repeated calls.
"Hullo, there!" shouted Dave.
The boy looked up, still grasping the rope.
"That you, Dave?"
"Yes. That you, Dick? Where did you come from?"
"Yes, Dick Pray, and nobody else."
"Won't you come up?"
"Well, yes, I should like to, but the water is uneasy. Can't get out ofmy boat."
"Hold on; I will come down and help you." He stepped within the towerand reported, "Mr. Tolman, this fog has brought somebody."
"Don't wonder at it. Give him any help he needs."
"I want a short rope."
"There's one hanging on that nail."
Dave took the rope, went to the door of the tower, and descended theladder.
"Here, Dick! Take your painter and tie it to that mooring-rope,allowing enough slack to bring your boat almost to the tower and yet nottouch it. There! if that length isn't right you can try it again. Nowcatch this rope and make fast to the stern there. So! That's it! NowI'll pull you in."
Dave drew on his end of the rope, and pulled Dick's boat so near theladder that Dick could spring to it, and yet the boat itself was left toswing in the waves while it could not strike the tower.
"I'll just make fast my end of the rope, Dick, and we will go up theladder."
"All right. Glad to get out of that old boat and go up with you."
"Why, where under the sun and moon have you been?"
"Me? Been camping out on the Nub."
"You haven't!"
"But I have."
"That your tent over there?"
"Mine and Sam Whittles's."
"Tolman and I noticed it to-day for the first time. How long have youbeen there?"
"Long enough to eat you or Toby Tolman--you may draw lots for thehonour--if you don't give me some food."
"Oh, we will soon give you that. Among other things I will give yousome fish. Got some splendid cunners, and I will divide with you."
"Good! I could eat 'em raw. Hungry as a shark. Sam is hungrier. Idon't know as he will wait for me, but throw himself into the water andgo after the fish himself."
"O Dickie, we will make you feel like a new being. Come in and seeTolman. He is a splendid old fellow. Come in this way."
The boys went up into the engine-room.
"An old acquaintance, Mr. Tolman," said Dave.
"I see, I see," replied the light-keeper, recognizing Dick as one of theschooner party.
"Whiz--bim--fizz--"
"It sounded splendid out at Shag Rocks," shouted Dick to thelight-keeper.
"You been there?" inquired Mr. Tolman.
"Yes; and this old fog came up and confused me, and I didn't know whereI was, and I heard the signal and I put for it," said Dick.
"Out there fishing?"
"Yes, sir; or--I wanted to fish, but didn't catch a fin."
"Shag Rocks you went to?"
"Yes, sir; two ledges with a strip of sand between them."
"Oh, those
are 'Spectacle Rocks,' as the fishermen say. They look likea pair of spectacles. You wouldn't catch much there. Shag Rocks are tothe nor'ard."
"Well, I'm willing they should stay there."
"Next time, you come here. Splendid chance off this very ledge; BlackRocks, as we call them."
"That would be wise, I think."
"Well, make yourself at home.--Dave, you give him something to eat."
"I thought I would let him have some of those cunners to take with him."
"So do, but give him something now.--And you don't want to go back inthis fog?"
"Well, I'd rather have clear weather if I have got to find the Nub,"said Dick.
The fog, though, refused to clear up that day, and Dick remained allnight.
"I pity Sam," he told Dave; "but he has got a teapot, and he must liveon that till morning. I'll give him a surprise to-morrow, I tell you.I will throw my line into the water off these rocks here, and carry tocamp a string of fish worth having. I'll open Sam's eyes for him."
Dick, though, overslept his intended hour of rising. It was Dave whocame rushing into the assistant-keeper's room, where Dick had beensleeping, and he cried, "Dick, Dick! there is a furious shouting foryou. Two men and a young fellow are down in a boat at the foot of thetower, and want you."
"I'll be there directly," said Dick, springing out of his bed. Hedressed quickly, and rushed down to the door of the signal-tower.Looking below, he exclaimed, "That you, Sam Whittles?"
"Yes. Where have you been? Didn't sleep a wink last night. Thoughtyou were drowned and everything else. Got these two fishermen who camealong to pull me here in their boat. Come, boy, come home!"
"Fury!" said Dick in his thoughts. "Won't--won't you come up?" he askedaloud. "I was going to surprise you, take you some fish, and so on."
"Fish!" said Sam contemptuously; "these men will sell it to me by theacre."
"Squar mile, ef he wants it," said one of these piscatory individuals,looking up and grinning.
"Won't you all come up?" asked Dave Fletcher.
"Can't, thank you," said Sam. "Just throw that Jonah overboard, and wewill go home."
"Jonah" said it was "too bad," and stole down the ladder, feeling worsethan on the day he returned in the runaway schooner.