"No. It was dark when I reached the village. Too late. I say, Lloyd," clapping his hands to keep warm, "come home. This is nonsense. I am going."
Now Jem was older than Lloyd, and though Lloyd was always captain of the two, still he was half frozen, and very willing to be tempted.
"Do you think it's nonsense?" pushing the logs with his foot, doubtfully.
"Of course I do. I'm going."
"Don't go yet, Jem," Lloyd begged. It was horribly lonely here in the cold, and dark, and storm.
"I'll wait while I count ten," standing first on one leg and then the other.
Lloyd looked out to sea. Nothing there but blackness and the dreadful, incessant moaning. The fire was nearly out. What was the use of working all night for people who were away out on their homeward journey, knowing and caring nothing for him? Up at the cottage his mother had a nice fire for him; a warm bed.
He began kicking the embers apart. "It does seem like folly," he said.
But on the other hand, what if the schooner were there still, with nothing but his fire to guide her to safety? There was a chance of that; the merest chance. But there was one.
"I'll stay, Jem. You can go home."