Otis James
The Light Keepers: A Story of the United States Light-house Service

CHAPTER XV
STORM-BOUND

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."

"I reckon, after thinkin' of all that, there ain't any one of this 'ere crew as feels like complainin', eh?" and Captain Eph looked around sternly, much as though believing his assistants were on the verge of insubordination. "If a seventeen-year-old girl, with the same as nothin' to eat, can take care of a whole family an' a light for twenty-one days durin' heavy weather, we deserve to be kicked if there's any show of gettin' down at the heel."

"We're mighty lucky to be no worse off," Uncle Zenas said as he unfastened the bandages in order to look at his injuries, and this reminded Captain Eph that it was time to apply more scraped potato.

When the forenoon came to an end both the invalids were cared for, and Sidney had the noon-day meal ready.

Mr. Peters had made what served as tables, but which were really rough stools, and from these Captain Eph and Uncle Zenas ate their dinner with very little of discomfort.

Because there was nothing he could do in behalf of the invalids, Mr. Peters spent the greater portion of the afternoon in bed, and Sidney read to or talked with the keepers until it was time to get supper.

The record of this day would serve fairly well for the five succeeding days. The storm had cleared away after raging with mild violence forty-eight hours; but the wind seemed to have increased rather than subsided, and the waves were so boisterous that it would have been impossible, save at the cost of life, to descend from the kitchen to the ledge.

The keepers were storm-bound even though the sun was shining, and would be until the wind subsided. During all this time but few vessels were to be seen far down on the horizon, and never one near enough to be signaled.

Both the disabled keepers were recovering even more rapidly than could have been reasonably expected. Captain Eph's sprained leg no longer caused him very great pain; but he, as well as his companions, understood that very many days must elapse before he should venture to stand upon it.

Uncle Zenas was able to hobble around fairly well, and, with a certain amount of assistance from Sidney, attended to the greater portion of the cook's duties; but neither of the men had attempted to ascend the stairs.

Never for a moment had Mr. Peters faltered in his efforts to atone for his deceit. It was as if each day he tried the harder to perform more work, or minister to the comfort of his comrades, until Captain Eph said privately to Sidney that "Sammy's trip on the raft had worked a wonderful change."

On the morning of the sixth day after the combination of accidents, there was a break in the monotony, which excited the invalids greatly.

Mr. Peters, who had been in the lantern attending to some trifling duty, came down-stairs at a rapid pace as he cried:

"The light-house tender is headin' this way, not more'n two miles away, an' makin' heavy weather of it!"

In a twinkling the room was a scene of the greatest excitement. Captain Eph, forgetting his injured limb, attempted to spring to his feet, but sank back quickly with a groan, and Uncle Zenas, thinking only that the inspector might not be pleased at seeing beds in the kitchen, bent over to gather up the clothing, when the partially healed burns caused him to straighten up again as a cry of pain escaped his lips.

"What is the matter?" Sidney asked in surprise, not understanding why the announcement that the tender was coming toward the ledge should have so startled the two men.

"Matter, Sonny!" Captain Eph cried. "Why most likely the inspector is comin' on one of his reg'lar visits, an' what'll he say if he finds Uncle Zenas an' me off duty, so to speak?"

"I don't see why you need bother about him," Sidney began; but before he could finish the statement, Mr. Peters cried:

"Of course you don't, Sonny, 'cause you never was here when he overhauled everything on the ledge as if he expected we allers left 'em at sixes an' sevens."

"But he won't see anything to-day," Sidney continued. "Didn't you say we were storm-bound? If other people can't make a landing here, isn't he in just as bad a fix?"

Captain Eph leaned back in his chair and looked at the lad in astonishment, as he gasped:

"Wa'al, who'd thought that little shaver had more sense than all the rest of us put together? Of course the inspector can't make a landin', an' I don't understand why he has come out here, for he must have known what the weather was!"

"It's given me the worst scare I've had since I upset the kettle of lard!" Uncle Zenas exclaimed, leaning back on the bed as if after severe exertions.

"She's comin' out here jest the same," Mr. Peters said as he stood by the window which opened toward the mainland, "an' what is it they want?"

"You an' Sonny better show yourselves on the lantern gallery," Captain Eph suggested. "It won't take 'em long to find out that they can't step foot on Carys' Ledge this day; but it behooves us to make some signs of life."

Mr. Peters and Sidney ran up-stairs to obey this command. The lad had never been on the narrow gallery which ran around on the outside of what is known as the lantern-deck, and he experienced a decided sense of insecurity as he stepped on the narrow platform through one of the swinging windows of the lantern.

"You needn't walk so gingerly," Mr. Peters said with a laugh. "This 'ere would hold a hundred men as big as Uncle Zenas, an' I reckon your weight won't set it adrift. There's the steamer, an' it looks as if she was standin' on end 'bout half the time."

The little craft was indeed laboring in the heavy seas. More than once Sidney fancied that the tops of the waves were flung completely over her smoke-stack, and when she sank into the trough of the sea, it was as if she were bent on going to the bottom.

"I've yet got to guess why she's out here in this weather," Mr. Peters said half to himself, as he watched the steamer plunge and toss wildly when she was brought around parallel with the westerly side of the ledge. "They seem to know that there's no chance of makin' a landin,' an' it looks as if they wanted to speak to us."

Then the first assistant waved his arms wildly, and shouted at the full strength of his lungs:

"Ahoy! What's the matter?"

It was probable that the wind carried his words down to the steamer; but when a man emerged from the wheel-house with a megaphone, and evidently made some reply, it was as if he were indulging in a pantomime, for not a sound came to the ears of those on the tower.

"I can't hear you," Mr. Peters shouted, repeating the words again and again until he was literally red in the face, and the man on the steamer evidently replied again; but it was as if he had not spoken.

"I'm gettin' tired of this fool business," Mr. Peters said irritably. "Why didn't they stay at home?"

"Perhaps some one saw the smoke of the fire, and sent word that the tower was burned," Sidney suggested, and then Mr. Peters shouted, using his hands as a trumpet:

"We're all right here! Nothin' the matter with us!" and he added in a lower tone, "It's no use to try an' make 'em understand that Cap'n Eph an' Uncle Zenas are off duty, for they couldn't hear me."

Once more the man with the magaphone shouted, and then the bow of the little steamer was headed landward, the steam which escaped from the whistle-valve telling that she had saluted.

"If that ain't a leetle the biggest wild goose chase I ever heard of, then my name's Benjamin, which it ain't!" Mr. Peters exclaimed as he led the way inside the lantern, and when the window had been carefully closed, he asked sharply:

"What sent 'em out here on a day like this?"

"I can't tell you," Sidney replied with a laugh, and at that moment the voice of Captain Eph could be heard from below:

"Ahoy, Sammy! Are you goin' to stay there all day?"

It seemed as if the first assistant was about to make an impatient reply, as in the days before he had deceived his comrades; but he checked himself ere the first word was uttered, and replied:

"We're comin', Captain Eph. I only wanted to make certain everythin' was ship-shape up here."

Then the two descended the stairs, and they were yet on the floor above the kitchen when Captain Eph shouted again:

"What did they say to you?"

"That's what I wish I knew," the first assistant said emphatically, as he entered the kitchen. "Somebody danced 'round a good bit; but with this wind blowin' dead in his teeth, we couldn't hear so much as a single yip from him."

"But what did he want?" Uncle Zenas asked impatiently. "He must have been after something to come out here when he knew he couldn't land."

Again Mr. Peters was about to make an impatient reply, and again he checked himself in time, replying mildly:

"There was no show for me to find out what he wanted so long as I couldn't hear a word he said. He's gone now, though, an' I wish he hadn't come, for it's mixed us all up."

"Wa'al, if it was important business, an' I reckon it must have been else the steamer wouldn't have come out in this wind, they'll have another try at it in better weather, an' perhaps by that time, Uncle Zenas, we'll be able to toddle 'round a little."

"I'm countin' on bein' as spry as ever in a couple of days more," the second assistant said proudly, "an' it looks now as if this 'ere blow would last that long."

During the remainder of this day the only conversation indulged in was concerning the coming of the tender. Each of the keepers in turn had some theory, more or less plausible, to account for the visit, but nothing was presented that satisfied all, until Sidney said timidly:

"Perhaps some word has come from my father, and whoever was in the boat came out to see if I was still here."

"Sonny is right!" Captain Eph cried emphatically. "We're nothin' better'n three old fools, to be guessin' this an' that unlikely thing, while he, with more brains in his little finger than the whole of us can muster, comes up an' tells the facts. Of course that was why the tender came out here, an' we'll see her again before many days. Sammy, I'm goin' to make a try at gettin' up-stairs, so's there will be one bed less in this kitchen, an' we'll see if things can't be pulled 'round as they ought'er be 'cordin' to the rules an' regerlations."

"I can't make out why everything ain't that way now," Mr. Peters interrupted. "The lantern couldn't be any cleaner, an' I'm sure there's nothin' wrong with havin' beds down here when we've got to have a hospital somewhere."

"I'm not sayin', Sammy, that you an' Sonny haven't done wonders; but yet you know that the light isn't run as it should be, when the keeper an' his second assistant take up their quarters in the kitchen. We'll have all that changed, though, before this time to-morrow, even if you have to rig up a block an' tackle to send me into my room."

Sidney was almost sorry because he had guessed so nearly to what Captain Eph believed was the truth. Until that moment he had been well content so long as the invalids continued to improve; but now he was feverishly eager to know if his father had sent any message, and, if so, what it was.

Restlessly the lad wandered from one window to another, looking out in the hope of seeing some indication that the wind was subsiding, until Captain Eph said:

"Come here, Sonny, an' make yourself contented. I can give a guess as to how you're fussin', an' it's all wrong. You ought'er be feelin' mighty good because we've reason to believe your father knows where you are, an' there'll be no harm done if you don't hear what he's got to say for two weeks to come. S'posen he's sent a message, which I don't believe he has, for you to come to Porto Rico, what good would it do you to know it, seein's how you can't get off this 'ere ledge till the sea goes down? It's foolish to fret over what can't be helped. Tell me, did you ever hear of a light called Barnegat?"

"Indeed I have," the lad replied, surprised at this sudden turn in the conversation.

"Wa'al, did you ever hear why it had that name?"

"I suppose because it is near the New Jersey town of Barnegat."

"That may be, Sonny; but in the book you've been readin' lately are some verses tellin' how it got the name. Of course they ain't true; but there's a good deal of fun in 'em. Bring me the book an' I'll show you where they are."

Sidney now began to understand that the old keeper was simply trying to divert his mind from thoughts of the message which those on the tender had possibly tried to deliver; but nevertheless he hastened to obey what had sounded very like a command, and Captain Eph opened the volume to the alleged poetry, which is copied below, with the name "Adam Clark" appended as the author:

 
"In the Bay of Barnegat sailed a jolly, jolly tar,
And he watched like a cat o'er the water,
Till he spied from the main-top-gallant-forward-mizzen-spar
The pretty little light-keeper's daughter.
 
 
Then he landed on the land, did this jolly, jolly tar,
And he chased her o'er the sand till he caught her,
Says he, 'My pretty miss, I've got to have a kiss
From the pretty little light-keeper's daughter.'
 
 
But she squealed a little squeal at the jolly, jolly tar,
And said she didn't feel as if she'd oughter;
Then she scooted up the bar and hollered for her ma, —
Oh, the pretty little light-keeper's daughter!
 
 
'Sure my name is Barney Flynn,' said the jolly, jolly tar,
'And at drinking Holland gin I'm a snorter.'
Then a tub of washing-blue-soap suddenly she threw —
Did the mother of the light-keeper's daughter.
 
 
'Now, Barney, git!' she spat, at the jolly, jolly tar;
And you bet Barney gat for the water.
Thus the place from near and far was named by the ma
Of the pretty little light-keeper's daughter."
 

If Captain Eph had thought that reading the jingle would turn Sidney's thoughts from the possibility that those on the tender had tried to deliver a message from his father, he made a decided mistake; but the lad laughed heartily when he had finished the lines, and then did his best to hide from the old keeper that which was in his mind.

Next morning the wind was blowing quite as fresh as ever; but Captain Eph had not forgotten the determination to go into his own room, and when the routine work had been performed, Mr. Peters was summoned to assist in what promised to be quite a serious task.

"You're clean wild to think of sich a thing, Cap'n Eph," the first assistant said as he stood with folded arms in front of the keeper, and the latter replied petulantly:

"Perhaps I am, Sammy Peters; but I ain't so wild as to let you try to argue me out of it. I'm goin' to do what little lays in my power toward puttin' this 'ere tower ship-shape, an' you'll help me without any back talk."

"How do you count on doin' it, seein's you can't touch the floor with your lame foot?"

"You're allers ready enough to riggin' up schemes that ain't of the least earthly account, an' now let's see if you can't turn your mind to somethin' sensible."

"Then I shouldn't be thinkin' how to help you up them stairs, for that ain't in any way sensible," Mr. Peters said calmly, and Uncle Zenas cried pleadingly:

"Why don't you stay where you are, Ephraim Downs, leastways as long as this wind blows? When there's a turn in the weather, you'll have time enough to get up-stairs before the tender comes."

"I'm goin' now if I have to crawl," Captain Eph cried. "Things have come to a pretty pass if the keeper of a first-order light can't go where he pleases without both his assistants raisin' a rumpus."

"I'm thinkin' it'll be you who'll raise the rumpus," Mr. Peters said grimly, "but if you're so set that you won't listen to old friends, I'll get to work. Put one arm around my neck, an' I'll do my best at luggin' you up, though in case of a tumble you're likely to be lamed for life."

Even this possibility did not daunt Captain Eph, and the task was begun, with Sidney to assist so far as might be, and Uncle Zenas alternately uttering needless words of caution, and bewailing the keeper's "pig-headedness."

It was both a long and difficult job, and when, at the expiration of a full half hour from the time the first step had been taken, Captain Eph was seated in a chair in his own room, waiting until the bed could be brought up, all who had assisted were confident the keeper regretted having made the attempt.

"Wa'al, I'm up here," he said grimly, and Uncle Zenas shouted from below:

"Yes, you're there, Ephraim, an' I'd like to know how much better off you are, except that it'll be more work to wait on you."

"I declare I hadn't thought of that, Sonny," the old man said as he took the lad's hand in his; "but you won't mind a few extry steps if it makes me feel any easier in mind, will you?"

"I'd be glad to take a great many more than are necessary even now, if you'll be any more comfortable or contented, Captain Eph," and Sidney stroked the old keeper's hairy hand.