Not long after the conclusion of the old sailor’s story, which left him glum and taciturn, the white spiral of the Sombrero Island Light came into view, sticking up like a finger on the sandy islet whose name it bore. As they drew closer, Jack could make out a solitary figure on the beach. It was the light keeper, who was soon greeting them with heartfelt gratitude. He was probably a young man, but the anxiety he had been through had aged him in a few nights.

While the sailors were unloading the provisions and water, for drinking water on that desolate island could only be caught in tanks when it rained, Jack visited the other light keeper. He found him much better than he had been when the wireless message was sent out. In fact, after some of the remedies Dr. Flynn had sent had been administered, he declared he would be strong enough to go about his duty that night.

The light keepers explained that they were doubly anxious for a sight of the relief ship, for her appearance meant that they would go on a month’s vacation, their places to be taken by two other men the relief craft was bringing out. Before they left the island, Jack had the satisfaction of spying a distant sail on the horizon. The light keeper, who was up and about, scrutinized it through his glass. He broke into an exclamation of thankfulness the next minute.

“It’s the old Solitaire, sure enough!” he cried. “She must have been delayed by storms.”

“Looks as if one of der top masdts, idt has been carried avay,” declared Schultz, who had borrowed the glass.

“Is the Solitaire the relief ship?” asked Jack.

“Yes; the same old schooner that always comes. Oh, won’t Barney be glad! It’ll be better to him than medicine.” And the keeper of the light ran toward the tower to tell his companion the good news.

And so, as they rowed back to the ship, they left the light keepers happy, but nevertheless old Schultz shook his head as he spoke of them.

“Aber, I’d radder pe a sea-cook dan a keeper py a lighdthouse,” he said with deep conviction; and added, nodding his head solemnly, “I know.”

[CHAPTER XXII—A DECOY MESSAGE]