"I can't even see the boat-house!" he said at length, and the old keeper replied:
"No, Sonny, there's little chance of that at this time of the tide while the wind comes with sich force from the east'ard."
"And my boat?"
"I reckon you may as well count that gone, for she wasn't built to stand sich poundin' as she's been gettin' this last hour. Don't feel bad, Sonny, for the best craft that was ever launched ain't of much account as compared with a single human life. When the tide goes down we may be able to get outside, if so be there's anything to be done; but I've known of our bein' shut in here by the sea a full week, with only now an' then a glimpse of the ledge."
Then it was that the boom of the gun could be heard, for the first time since the day broke, and Captain Eph said in a voice tremulous with emotion:
"They're still alive, Sonny, an' their vessel is holdin' together, else it wouldn't have been possible for 'em to fire the gun; but I ain't certain as we should be thankful for it, 'cause it only means that they'll be the longer comin' to the end."
"And you don't think there is any hope for them?"
"I can't see where it'll come from, Sonny. Only the One who 'holds the waters in the hollow of His hand' can help 'em now," and, flinging his arm around the boy's shoulder, the old keeper prayed fervently that those who were in such sore distress might be comforted and upheld in their time of trouble.
Then it was that Mr. Peters came into the lantern, stepping softly as one involuntarily does in the presence of the dead, and began his work of cleaning the lens, speaking never a word, but looking out of the windows from time to time as if hoping he might get a glimpse of that which he feared to see.
On this morning Uncle Zenas did not call his comrades to breakfast from below; but ascended the stairway until it was possible to look into the lantern, when he said in a subdued tone: