“What do you mean?” Benny asked anxiously.
“There’s a three-masted schooner less than a mile away, I should say, and doing her best to crawl off from the land.”
Benny strained his eyes to pierce the fleecy cloud which enveloped him; but nothing save the swirling wreaths could be distinguished.
“I can’t make out anything,” he exclaimed in a tone of regret.
“And it ain’t to be wondered at, lad. Wait until you’ve been on patrol duty a dozen nights like this, and you’ll find it a different matter. I can see the schooner now an’ then, an’ allow she’s got a fore-staysail, reefed foresail, and spanker set; but don’t seem to be crawling off very fast. We’ll let her know that the crew at this station ain’t asleep.”
While speaking he had inserted the signal in its wooden handle, and as he concluded, struck it sharply against a rock.
There was a crackling and spitting of fire for an instant, after which the light burned out with apparently almost as much brilliancy as that displayed from the lighthouse a short distance away, and the glare literally blinded Benny.
When it died away the night seemed yet darker than before, and the lad peered straight ahead in the direction pointed out by Sam until he fancied he saw a tiny flare appear and disappear at brief intervals.
“They have seen us,” Sam said in a tone of satisfaction. “That wisp of flame was their answer, and I allow by its having been given so quickly that all hands understand they’d better have headed for deep water sooner. Word must be taken to the station, and I’m doubtful about leavin’ here. I wonder could you find your way back, Benny?”
“Of course I could, and I’ll be mighty glad of the chance to try. What shall I tell the keeper?”