Sidney did as the keeper requested, and read the following, to which even Uncle Zenas listened with apparent interest:
"In the summer of 1772 Whiteside first made the acquaintance of the place on which he was to indelibly engrave his name. He disembarked on the rocks with a gang of Cornish miners, and the obstacles which they met at the commencement of the work nearly disgusted him with the enterprise. He and his companions had started the work when a storm suddenly broke upon them. The wind blew with great force, and the cutter which had brought them had to fly before the fury of the gale. The workmen left on the rock hung on the best they could for two days and nights. Whiteside was not discouraged, and finally brought the work to a successful end, but not without being exposed to many dangers.
"One day the dwellers on the coast picked up on the beach a cask inscribed, 'Open this and you will find a letter'; inside was a carefully-sealed bottle, and in the bottle a document as follows:
"'Smalls, February 1, 1777.
"'Sir,—Finding ourselves at this moment in the most critical and dangerous condition, we hope that Providence will guide this letter to you, and that you will immediately come to our succor. Send to seek for us before spring, or we will perish, I fear; our supply of wood and water is almost exhausted, and our house is in the most sad state. We do not doubt that you would come to seek us as promptly as possible. We can be reached at high tide in almost any weather. I have no need to tell you more, you will comprehend our distress, and I remain,
"'Your humble servant, "'H. Whiteside.
"'We were surprised on the 23 January by a tempest; since that time we have not been able to light the temporary light for want of oil and candles. We fear we have been forgotten.
"'Ed. Edwards. G. Adams. J. Price.
"'P.S. We do not doubt that the person in whose hands this will fall will be sufficiently charitable to send it to Th. Williams, Esq., Trelethen, near St. Davids, Wales.'
"The history of Smalls has other and darker pages. It is related that at the beginning of the nineteenth century there was a winter so stormy that for four months the two keepers were entirely cut off from any succor from shore. It was in vain that vessels were sent to the rock, the furious sea always prevented a landing. One of them returned one day with a strange report. Its crew had seen a man, standing motionless, in a corner of the exterior gallery. Near him floated a signal of distress. But was he dead or alive? No one could say. Each evening anxious looks were cast at the light-house to see if its light would be shown, and each evening it shone brightly, proof that some one was still there. But were both keepers alive, and if there were but one who was the survivor? This was learned later.
"One evening a fisher from Milford, who had succeeded in landing at Smalls in an intermission of calm weather, brought to Solway the two keepers, but one of them was a corpse. The survivor had made a coffin for his dead comrade, then, after having carried it to a corner of the gallery, he had stood it on end, attaching it firmly. Left alone he had done good service. When returned on shore he was so changed, so emaciated, that his relatives and friends could scarcely recognize him. He asserted that his comrade had died of disease; he was believed, but after this time there were always three keepers at Smalls in the place of two—a wise precaution which has since been taken for light-houses placed in similar conditions."
"I ain't certain as that is very cheerful readin' for us," Captain Eph said grimly. "It's too near hittin' our own case, seem's how every one of this 'ere crew has come near bein' killed, an' if that had happened, our little Sonny would have been in a worse way than a young girl in a light not far from here, which we'll read about some other time."
"Don't say that I came near dyin', Cap'n Eph," Mr. Peters cried. "I've never been as bad off as you an' Uncle Zenas believed."
Sidney fancied that the first assistant was about to confess his deceit; but if such was the case, Captain Eph prevented him by saying sharply:
"I don't know how a man could be in much harder sleddin' than you, Sammy, when that 'ere raft was drivin' before the wind, with the waves washin' clean over both you an' her. Uncle Zenas an' me felt mightily down at the mouth 'bout that time, for we reckoned sure you was dead."