“I am not so certain that I’ve got any right to let you take the chances, for in this storm a lad who is green at the business can easily get bewildered.”
“I shan’t,” Benny replied quickly. “Please let me go, Mr. Hardy, for it’ll show that I can be of some little help in the work, and perhaps the men will think I may be a surfman in time, even if I am small.”
“You shall make the venture, my boy. Do you hear that whistle now and then?”
“I have been hearing it for some time, sir. There must be a steamer near by.”
“Why, bless your soul, Benny, haven’t you found out by this time that there’s a steam fog-horn near the lighthouse. I counted on their setting it going when this smother first gave signs of coming.”
Benny remembered now that the cook had pointed out to him a small brick building painted white, which had at one side a curiously shaped funnel, and told him this last was the fog-horn; but other matters were occupying his mind at the time, and he gave little heed to the information.
“Keep straight on after that sound,” Sam said as he saw to it that Benny’s coat was closely buttoned. “Don’t try to travel too fast, for there’s plenty of time. Even if that craft comes to grief, she won’t strike inside of an hour. When you get to the station there’s nothing to be done save tell the keeper what we’ve seen, and that the schooner lays off Skinner’s Point.”
“Shall I come back, sir?”
“Come back through this storm, Benny? Why, you’re crazy! There’s such a thing as learning a surfman’s duties; but attempting to find me out here in this swirl ain’t one of ’em. Even if I was fool enough to say you might try it, the rest of the crew would take good care you didn’t get outside the station again. Now be off, lad, and keep your wits well about you. Remember that you’ll bring up nearabout the building if you follow the sound of the whistle.”
