CHAPTER IX
DEFYING THE TEMPEST'S VIOLENCE
"I've been wondering," said Eric to Homer, a few days after his rescuetrip on the _Redondo_, "what we're going to do with all these natives.We can't take them back to the Katmai country. They just about live onfish and everything that swims was killed during the eruption. How arethey going to exist? It'll be years before the fish come back."
"I can tell you all about that," his friend replied. "You know thecommanding officer of the Bering Sea fleet came up, while you wereaway?"
"Yes, you told me."
"I heard all about the plans which the department had approved, on hissuggestion. A new village is going to be built at the place which theCoast Guard picks out along the shore as being the best site for a town.It's going to be a regularly laid out place, with sanitary arrangementsand everything else complete."
"Give them all a new start, eh?"
"That's it, exactly. One of the other ships of the fleet is cruising nowalong the coast to pick out the best spot. We're to send a carpenterashore there and leave him for the winter to look after the erection ofigloos. He'll be in charge of enough supplies to last the settlementtill spring."
"Whereabouts is this town going to be?" asked the boy.
"It's not definitely decided yet," was the reply, "but probably it'll beon Stepnovak Bay. It'll be quite a place, too, because it'll start outwith a population of over 500 natives, maybe a thousand."
"That's a metropolis for Alaska," agreed Eric.
"And, what's more," continued the young engineer, "they're going to givethe new town the name of 'Perry,' in honor of our skipper, as thedepartment said, for 'recognition of his heroic services at the time ofthe eruption.'"
As soon as arrangements for the wintering of the homeless natives hadbeen completed, the _Bear_ returned to Unalaska and thence made one moretrip to Nome on business connected with the Federal Courts at thatplace. Then, as winter was closing in, the Coast Guard cutter stood outto sea up toward the Bering Straits, to await the outcoming of theseveral vessels in the whaling fleet, and make sure of the safety ofevery American sailor in the Arctic. The last of the whalers cleared thestraits on October 29, and on the following day the _Bear_ started onher southerly course, leaving the Arctic to its annual eight months ofunvisited silence.
Eric had wondered a good deal what assignment or appointment he wouldget for the winter. Great was his delight to find that both he and hischum had been assigned to the _Miami_, and were to report for duty onDecember tenth. The extra couple of days allowed him on the journeyacross the continent gave the boy a chance to visit his relatives in SanFrancisco, and he also managed it so that he took a short run up toDetroit to see his family and to have a chat with his old friend, thepuzzle-maker.
He found the _Miami_ to be a beauty. Unlike the Bear, which depended asmuch on sails as on steam, the _Miami_ was well-engined. Almost thefirst thing that struck Eric when he came to go over her arrangementswas her unusually large coal and water capacity.
"No wonder she can stay out for months at a time on ice patrol, orchasing up a derelict," said Eric; "she's got coal enough for a triparound the world!"
"Wouldn't mind if she was going to," said Homer, with a grin.
Eric shook his head.
"Not for mine," he answered; "I've a notion there's enough going onright around here. Anyhow, the Gulf of Mexico will feel good after anorther like this," and he shivered in his uniform, for the wind wasnipping.
"How would it feel to be somewhere around Point Barrow now?" his friendsuggested.
"It might be all right if a fellow were used to it, and dressed for it.At that, I don't believe I'd want to put in a whole winter up in thatcountry. It isn't so much the actual cold I'd hate as it would be havingto stay indoors half the time because it was too cold to go outside." Hesniffed the salt air. "Guess my folks have been sea-dogs too manyhundred years for me to cotton to anything that means indoors."
"Me, too," said his chum. "From what I know about the _Miami_, what'smore, I don't believe we're going to spend too much time ashore. Whenare we sailing, have you heard?"
"Day after to-morrow, I believe," Eric replied. "We're going right downto our southern station."
"The Gulf?"
"Yes, and Florida waters as far north as Fernandina," was the answer.
"The sooner the quicker, so far as I'm concerned," said the other, asthey strolled below.
Two days later the _Miami_ was steaming down Chesapeake Bay. The weatherwas ugly and there was a little cross-current that kept the cutterdancing. Eric had his sea legs, after his summer on the _Bear_, but hewas surprised to find how different was the motion of a steamer and asailing ship. The other junior lieutenant, whom he had already come tolike rather well, laughed as Eric stumbled at a particularly viciousroll.
"This isn't anything," he said. "Wait until we strike the edge of theGulf Stream. Then she's apt to kick up her heels a bit. And you ought tosee the _Yamacraw_! She's got any of these modern dances pushed off themap!"
"I don't mind it," Eric answered, "only it's a different kind of roll.I'm just off the _Bear_. She rolls enough, but it's a longer sort ofroll, not short jerks like this."
"Of course," said the other, nodding; "bound to be. A ship under sailis more or less heeled over and she's kept steady by the pressure of thewind on the sail. The long roll you're talking about isn't the sea, butthe gustiness of the wind. That's what makes the long roll."
"At that," said Eric, "it seems to me that the _Miami's_ pretty livelynow for all the sea there is."
"There's more sea than you'd reckon," was the reply. "Chesapeake Bay cankick up some pretty didoes when in the mood. You'd never believe howsuddenly a storm can strike, nor how much trouble it can make. You seethat skeleton lighthouse over there?"
"Yes," said the boy. "Smith's Point, isn't it? I remember learning allthese lights by heart," and he rattled off a string of names, being thelights down Chesapeake Bay.
"I see you haven't forgotten the Academy yet," said the other. "Yes,that's Smith's Point Tower. And while it's not a particularly imposinglooking sort of building, it's a very important light. It was when theycame to build that light, they found out what Chesapeake Bay can belike. Aside from some of the really big lighthouses like Minot's Ledge,Smith's Point gave as much trouble to build as any lighthouse on theUnited States coast."
"Why?"
"Bad weather and natural difficulties," said the other. "My father wasthe designer, and because Mother was dead, Father and I used to betogether all the time. I was a small shaver of twelve years of age atthe time so I was right in the thick of it."
"Tell the yarn," pleaded Eric.
The lieutenant smiled at the boy's eagerness, but filled his pipe andbegan.
"Right opposite Smith's Point," he said, "on the Virginia shore, thetides and currents at the mouth of the Potomac River and at the entranceof Chesapeake Bay have built out a shoal which, if you remember yourchart, you will recall juts out in the bay over nine miles from theland. The same tides had scoured Smith's Island on the other hand--portside going out of the bay, but there are some nasty rocks in thechannel. It's a tricky spot, that Smith's Point Shoal, and many a goodvessel has gone to pieces on it.
"It was the wreck of the barque _Mary Louise_ that drew public attentionto Smith's Point. She struck the shoal and went down with all hands.Less than two hours after she sank, a steamer came along and hit thewreckage. The steamer was so badly injured that it was only by a gooddeal of luck and clever handling that her captain succeeded in beachingher and saving all the passengers. The Lighthouse Board had made severalrecommendations for the erection of a lighthouse at that point, and whenpublic attention had been focussed to this danger by the disaster, itwas easy enough to get the appropriation through Congress. So the moneywas set aside and Father was given the contract of designing anderecting the lighthouse.
"By the end of the next month a huge unwieldly foundation caisson was onthe ways at a shipyard
in Baltimore. I was just a kid at the time, butthe queer shape of this interested me right from the start. It was likea bottomless box, thirty-two feet square on the inside and twelve feethigh. It was so thick that a tall man could lie down crosswise on one ofthe walls and stretch out his arms to the full, and then there would beseveral inches beyond the tips of his fingers and the ends of his feet."
"My word," said Eric, "it must have had some timber in it!"
"It had a lot of weight to support," said the other. "After a while, itwas launched--I was there--and dropped into the bay near Sparrow'sPoint. On it were built the first two courses of the iron cylinder whichwas to be the lower part of the lighthouse. Although that wooden caissonweighed over a hundred tons, so heavy and solid was the cylinder that itsank the wooden structure out of sight."
"How big was the cylinder?" queried the boy.
"It was thirty feet in diameter and each of the courses was six feethigh. That's twelve feet for the two courses. Inside the big cylinderwas a second smaller one, like an air-shaft, five feet in diameter. Apump was rigged on the edge of the cylinder for the journey down thebay, in case any water should splash over the sides from the wake of thetug.
"When the springtime came and there was a reasonable prospect of fairweather, quite a fleet set out for Baltimore with Father and me in theleading tug. I felt as proud of myself as if I'd been an admiral! Iwasn't quite sure," he added, laughing, "whether Father was the boss ofthe job or whether I was, myself.
"We had a large ocean-going tug towing the caisson, but we went aheadat very slow speed. Besides the big tug there were two tugs towing sevenbarges with the iron work, with building materials, stone, cement, andall that sort of thing. It made quite a gallant show.
"I want to tell you right now, we missed our guess when we supposed thatChesapeake Bay was being coddled by any of the softening influences ofthe gentle springtime! It was only lying low! It took us three days toget to the site of the lighthouse, which was marked by a buoy. Wereached there on a quiet and peaceful evening, the sort that landlubberpoets write about. A little after sundown it began to breeze up, and byfour bells of the first watch, there was a stiffish wind, which atmidnight began to climb into half a gale.
"Then the sea began to rise. It only takes a capful of wind to makethings nasty on the bay, and that iron cylinder began to toss like acork. We'd left four men aboard the cylinder and by half an hour aftermidnight they were pumping for their lives. There was a big searchlighton the tug and Father came tumbling up from below and ordered thesearchlight turned on to the cylinder.
"I tell you, that was a sight. There was nothing to be seen in thesmother but the great black iron rim rolling savagely, the white waterspouting about it, and, as it heaved above the waves, the searchlightshowed its black sides with the water streaming down. There, clusteredat the pumps, were the four men, working like a bunch of madmen andshouting for help as the cylinder rose above the water, strangling andclinging to the pump-handles like grim death as she went under. It wasfor their lives that they were working, for if ever half a dozen tons ofwater should slop over the side of the black monster, it would sinkstraight to the bottom, and so great would be the suction that there wasnot the slightest chance that any of them would ever come up alive.
"That was one time I saw Father in action. He yelled for the lifeboatand got volunteers. Out of the blank confusion he brought order, and inless than two minutes the lifeboat was over the side with twelve menaboard, Father one of them. The little boat rose on the waves like afeather and the third wave dashed it against the rim of the cylinder. Asthe frail craft crushed like an eggshell, every man leaped for the edge,hanging on to the sharp iron edge like grim death.
"Down came the cylinder again and as she careened, every man clamberedon. The added weight made her top-heavy and she began to ship waterbadly. Four of the fresh men were put at the pumps to relieve the otherswho were exhausted by their efforts.
"THE IRON RIM ROLLING SAVAGELY."
The cylinder of the Smith's Point Lighthouse caught in a storm whilebeing towed down Chesapeake Bay.
Courtesy of McClure's Magazine.]
"Father had climbed on the cylinder, with a rope slung over hisshoulders. He called to the men to haul in. At the end of it was a largepiece of canvas, an old sail. With nothing to which they could hold on,with the waves dashing high and that great iron drum reeling drunkenlyon the sea, those men lay flat on their stomachs and spread that sailover the top of the cylinder. More than once it seemed as though windand sea would get under that sail and with one vast heave, pitch everyman into the sea, but they held on. One of the men, an old timeshellback, bent that sail on to the cylinder so snugly and cleverly thatalmost two-thirds of the surface was protected. With teeth as well ashands the men held on, and lashed the canvas into place.
"Every second they expected to feel the cylinder founder beneath theirfeet, for though the pumps were going steadily and furiously, more waterwas being shipped than could be taken out. Once the sail was lashedfast, however, the cylinder shed most of the wash and the pumps, nowworking at top speed with eight men at the handles, began to gain. Waterstill scuttled down the iron sides, and as the sea was rising, she puther whole side under for the fraction of a second, twice. I was watchingit all from the steamer, our searchlight playing full on the ungainlycraft.
"Presently, so perilous did the situation grow and so rough the sea,that the captain of the steamer signaled to one of the smaller tugs totake up her anchor and stand by to pick up survivors should the cylinderfounder. He broke away his anchor himself and the big ocean-going tugsteamed to windward of the cylinder, letting down a heavy coat of oil onthe sea. It worked like a charm. The smoothening effect of the oil wasjust sufficient to enable the men to work on the cylinder with a slight,a very slight, margin of safety.
"Six men scuttled down the rope ladders on the inside of the cylinder.It chanced that there were four buckets on the iron drum and with thisthey organized a bucket brigade. The water was still three feet deep andswishing about like a whirlpool. Every man knew that one large wavewould send them to Davy Jones' locker.
"Down in the bowels of that iron cylinder they toiled. Not a gleam oflight was anywhere, the white shaft of the searchlight overhead onlymaking the shadows denser. No man could see his fellow; only by feelingwere the buckets passed from hand to hand. But, between the bucketbrigade and the pumps, little by little the water lessened, the load ofthe cylinder lightened and she rode higher in the water. Little choicewas theirs, either to bail unceasingly or to drown like rats in a hole.
"Daybreak found them still at work, spent with exhaustion, hollow-eyedand suffering from the night of terrible strain. The wind had dropped alittle with the dawn, but the sea still ran high. Seeing that the menwere too thoroughly wearied out to be of any use, even though theweather should improve rapidly, Father gave the order for the fleet torun to the nearest shelter. We sought the lee of Smith's Island, off theMaryland Shore, and stayed there for a week.
"At last, with every one rested and eager for another tussle, the fleetcrept out again. All the weather indications were favorable, and, so faras the experts could foretell, there wasn't a storm in sight for a weekor more."
"Weather experts aren't much on guessing," commented Eric.
"Not in Chesapeake Bay, anyhow," the other rejoined.
"Not anywhere!"
"I wouldn't go so far as that," the other answered. "There'd be a lotmore wrecks than there are if it weren't for the storm signals of theWeather Bureau. They can always warn ships of the coming of a big storm,one of these West Indian hurricanes, for instance. Squalls, of course,they can't foresee. Usually, that doesn't matter, because no seaworthyvessel is going to be worried by a squall. But that iron cylinder wasn'tseaworthy. At least, you should have heard what the men called it whohad been on board the night it nearly went down!"
"I can imagine," said Eric.
"Then you've a healthy imagination," his friend replied grimly. "As Iwas sayin
g," he continued, "the fleet started out under sunny skies anda smooth sea. They reached the place where the buoy was moored andFather took very careful observations to make sure that the buoy had notshifted during the storm. Everything was all right, and the instant thecylinder was immediately over the precise spot, the valves were openedand the water began to pour in.
"The tugs at once brought up the two barges containing heavy blocks ofstone, and the instant that the cylinder touched the bottom, the gangsof men started to heave the stones overboard."
"What in the wide world was that for?"
"To prevent the water from scouring away the sand. You see it's all sandthere, that's why the caisson was made. As soon as the current wouldstrike an obstruction like the cylinder, it would make a gyratory sweeparound its base. With the strong tides of Chesapeake Bay, even an hourwould be enough to scoop out the sand and plunge the whole structureedgewise into the sea. So overboard the stones went, all round thecylinder, making a rough protecting wall against the undermining forceof the water. The swirl, instead of striking the smooth iron side of thecylinder, would be broken against the pile of rocks. Moreover, with thesand thus protected it could not be washed away so easily by the forceof the current.
"At the same time, another gang of men was sent aboard the cylinder, andone of the smaller tugs brought up a barge loaded with concrete. The mentumbled into the compartments of the cylinder. From the barge two pipeswere thrust. Down one of these poured a steady stream of cement, fromthe other a torrent of small grit, while an unceasing cataract of saltwater rushed down from the pumps of the steamer.
"In this awful mess of cement, water, and small stones the men wallowedand struggled, mixing the concrete and packing it down hard into place.Wet to the skin, covered with cement dust, it was all that they could doto keep from turning into concrete statues, and the foreman wascontinually advising the men to put hands and faces directly under thestream of water and not to give the cement dust a chance to harden ontheir faces. For two hours they slaved, working in a frenzy of haste.
"Then, when everything was proceeding so well and so rapidly, a blackstorm-cloud came up out of the sea to the southeast, and the waves beganto roll in. The whistle for recall blew shrilly. Up from the cylinderpoured the shovelers, covered with concrete and looking like gray imagesof men. There was a wild flight for the steamer. One of the bargessnapped a hawser and it was only by the herculean efforts of the smallertug that she was kept from collision with the cylinder. Had that tug,loaded down with building material, ever canted against the cylinder,the whole effort would have been in vain.
"One of the lifeboats, containing sixteen men, was picked up by a waveand thrown against the iron rim as a child throws a ball. The boat wentinto matchwood and every one of the sixteen men was thrown into thewater. But Father had taken the precaution of not engaging any man whowas not a good swimmer, and the other tug had received instructions tofollow each boatload of workmen every trip they took. Accordingly, whenthe men were thrown into the sea, the tug was not twenty yards away andevery one was picked up without injury.
"The next morning, to the horror of every man in the fleet, the cylinderwas seen to be inclining four feet from the perpendicular. Although thewaves were running high, a gang was sent on one of the stone barges andanother two hundred tons of stone were thrown off on the side to whichthe cylinder was inclining."
"Why?" asked Eric. "I should have thought that it ought to be on theother side."
"Not at all," his friend rejoined. "The reason that the cylinder hadlisted was because there had been some scouring away of the sand inspite of the stones. If, therefore, the stones were put on the side fromwhich the sand had already been cut away, the action of the water on theother side would undermine the sand there and gradually straighten upthe cylinder. At least, that was the idea."
"And did it work?"
"Perfectly. Two days passed before the cylinder was absolutely level,and in the meantime the tug had taken one of the barges for more stone.Another hundred tons was dumped down as soon as the cylinder wasstraight again, and it was thereby kept from further scouring. Theweather had become good again, and the concrete work was continued. OnApril 21st the entire gang began work. Barge hands, cooks, everybodythat could handle a shovel at all, was sent aboard the cylinder."
"Did you go?"
"You bet I did, and I worked as hard as any of the men--for a while. Twoor three hours of it did me up, though. I was only twelve years old,remember, but most of the men kept on the job for forty-eight hoursstraight with only fifteen minutes allowed for meals. By that time thefoundation was secure with thirty feet of solid concrete twenty-two feetthick."
"That ought to hold it," said Eric.
"That was only the beginning," said his friend. "What would hold it,resting on the top of the sand?"
"I'd thought of that," admitted the boy, "but I supposed the weightwould be enough to drive it in."
"Never," the other said. "The next step was to drive it down into thehard sand at the bottom of the bay. Father had made borings and found atrue sea-bottom sand fifteen feet and a half below the level of theshoal. It was to that depth that the whole caisson had to be sunk.
"You remember that I told you there was an air-shaft in the middle ofthe caisson?"
"Yes."
"Well, on the top of this air-shaft an air-lock was built. The water inthe air-shaft was forced out by compressed air and the men entered thecaisson."
"Into the compressed air?"
"Yes. It takes a special kind of worker for the job. In the air-lock,you know, the men have to stay for a while before they enter thechamber, so as to get used to the compressed air gradually. Lots ofpeople can't stand it."
"Did you try it?"
"Yes. I asked Father and he wouldn't let me. But I slipped into theair-lock once and tried it, anyhow."
"Well?"
"Not for me!" said his friend. "I got out in less than five minutes. Myhead seemed bursting, and I was bleeding from the ears as well as thenose. But some of them, especially an old chap called Griffin, theforeman, didn't seem to mind it at all.
"As soon as the caisson was clear of water and the men were ready, theyentered the caisson, crawled down the long ladder and began to dig awaythe sand. A large four-inch pipe led up the air-shaft and over the sea.The sand and small stones were shoveled into a chamber from which avalve opened into the pipe and the compressed air drove up the sand andstones like a volcano into the sea. The work proceeded rapidly andwithout a hitch until the caisson had been sunk thirteen feet and ahalf. Then, when only two feet from the total desired depth, anunexpected and terrible thing happened.
"THE BOAT WENT INTO MATCHWOOD."
A sudden tempest breaking upon Smith's Point Lighthouse in the earlystages of its construction.
Courtesy of McClure's Magazine.]
"At three o'clock in the afternoon a low hissing was heard in thecaisson, and with a quick flicker the candles first burned low, thenflamed anew, the color of the flame a lambent green. For a few momentsnone of the men realized what had happened, and stood there, stupefiedand staggering. An acrid burning sensation gripped the men by the throatand they were stricken blind. Suffering terrible agony, every manmanaged to climb the long ladder, each step of which seemed an eternity,and entered the air-lock. Ten hale and hearty men had entered thecaisson, ten wrecks emerged, the flesh of the inside of their throatsraw and their eyes swollen and reddened beyond recognition.
"A telegram was sent to the Lighthouse Inspector of the district, andthe doctor attached to the building party sent for medical help. Nextday the inspector came down, with assistants, and accompanied by anotherphysician and a nurse. They found that the caisson workers had tapped avein of sulphuretted hydrogen, probably due to the decay of some deepbeds of vegetable matter, such as sea-weed. One of the assistants to theinspector, who was a clever young scientist, suggested that after a dayor two it might be possible to enter the caisson again, but that itwould be necessary to proce
ed with extreme care, as another pocketmight be tapped, with a recurrence of the danger.
"Although before them, in their bunks, lay their ten comrades, whenFather called for volunteers, fourteen men came forward. They knew, theycould not help knowing, that they were not only going into possibledanger, but into absolutely certain torture. Their comrades laythere--it was not certain that some of them would ever see again, it wasnot certain that some of them would recover. Absolute agony of the mosthorrible kind awaited them. But the lighthouse had to be built. It iseasy to make a problematic sacrifice of life, it is hard to walk withoutshrinking into a chamber of awful pain. From this ordeal these fourteenmen did not shrink.
"They were headed by Griffin, the old caisson foreman, who had a recordof having withstood the greatest pressure possible, a pressure of eightand a half atmospheres. They went down at nine o'clock in the morning.The pain must have been fearful, but they stuck to it to the end. Oneman went through the air-lock and got food, returning to his comrades.He had been down four hours, and his condition was so terrible that thedoctor ordered him to stay out of the lock.
"'I'm not that breed,' he said in a horrid whisper over his raw andswollen throat, 'I'm goin' to see it through.'
"'Better keep away, my man,' the doctor said; 'I won't answer for whatwill happen to you if you go back.'
"'I ain't no quitter,' was the answer. 'I'm a Boston wharf-rat, I am,an' I stays wid de gang!'
"That doesn't sound like a heroic speech, Eric," said the firstlieutenant, "but it looks to me like it's the real stuff."
"It surely is," agreed the boy.
"He went back with a bite of food for all the men below and they workedon steadily. By the way the stuff came up the pipe they must have workedlike demons. Every ear was keen for sign or sound of trouble, but theafternoon wore on, the sand came hurtling from the pipe and the caissonsank lower and lower.
"'How much further?' I asked Father, just as the evening was beginningto draw in.
"'Not more than an inch or two,' he said triumphantly. 'I tell youwhat, I envy those fellows down there. They're real men. I doubt if I'dhave the nerve to do it myself.'
"Suddenly there came a muffled roar below.
"'There it is!' cried the young scientist, and he made a bolt for theair-lock.
"Father was not more than a second behind him, waiting only to make sureof the point to which the structure had been sunk. The caisson waswithin three quarters of an inch of the required depth!
"Meantime, down in the caisson, the feared disaster had occurred. Thegas had come up with a rush, almost like an explosion. In the greenglare of the candles, burning sulphur and hydrogen flames instead ofoxygen, the men were staggering, here and there, unable to find the wayout.
"Griffin took charge. It was his hand that led every man to the ladder.Nine men crawled up.
"As the minutes passed, the anxiety at the head of the shaft grewintense. No more workers came. Fourteen men had gone down; only nine hadreturned. There were then five men still unaccounted for. First one ropewas dropped without result, then another. This time some gropinghand--it proved to be Griffin's--encountered the rope, and found asufferer. He tied the rope around his comrade and the man was hoistedup. Four times this was done, but the fourth was a huge, powerfulIrishman, called Howard. When he was pulled up, entirely unconscious, hestuck fast in the hole and could not be pulled out.
"By an exertion of self-control and endurance, that no one ever has beenable to understand, Griffin climbed that ladder into the top where thegases were at their foulest. Though all his comrades had been too fargone for several minutes to move, even to help themselves, he succeededin pushing and pulling Howard's unconscious body until it passed throughthe hole.
"A hand was stretched down to reach Griffin and bring him to life andsafety, when the overwrought system gave way. He loosed his handhold onthe ladder and fell.
"A groan went up from those above. It was a thirty-foot fall. Had therescuer, the hero, been killed? Scarcely could a man fall in such a wayin an air shaft and live.
"There was no need to ask for volunteers. Two men, one of those who hadbeen in the caisson all day and was one of the first rescued, andanother, who had not gone down at all, leaped for the ladder. Thedoctor caught the first by the shoulder and thrust him aside. The otherdescended a few feet and then came up again, to fall unconscious at theedge of the shaft. Another sprang forward, and yet another, clamoringfor leave to go down.
"Just at that moment there was a faint tug at the rope, the first rope,which had been left hanging down in the pit. Hardly expecting anything,one of the men started to haul it in.
"'Come here, boys,' he cried; 'Griffin's on!'
"With their hearts in their mouths, the men hauled in, and the limp andapparently lifeless body of the foreman came to the surface. How he hadever managed to fasten the rope around him was a mystery. His hands,with the flesh rubbed from them to the bone, showed that when he hadlost hold on the ladder he had still retained presence of mind enough tograsp the sides and had slid to the foot. There he had found the end ofthe rope hanging and in a last flicker of understanding had tied itaround himself."
"Did he get all right again?" asked Eric eagerly.
"He was blind for six weeks, but finally recovered. Two of the men wereseven months in hospital, and one became permanently insane. Four got'bends,' that fearful disease that strikes caisson-workers, but happily,none died from the terrible experience."
"And the three quarters of an inch still lacking?"
"The cylinder settled just that much and no one ever had to go down theshaft again. The caisson was filled with concrete and the air-shaftsealed."
"And that was the final effort of the sea?"
"Not quite. A month later a storm came up and drove the steamer againstthe cylinder with such force that eight of the plates--though an inchthick and braced with rigid solidity--were crushed in. Father had takenprecautions against such an accident by having had a number of extraplates made, and the lighthouse was finished and turned over to thegovernment three days before the expiration of the time required by thecontract. It was a case of man's struggle with the elements, and manwon."
"But the honors are with the caisson-men," suggested Eric.
"Yes," agreed the other, "the hero of Smith's Point lighthouse isGriffin, the caisson-man."