“All right, if our good friends will keep us,” was the cheery response. “We are not travelling on schedule time.”
And then Father Tom looked on with keen interest as the sturdy life-savers made ready for the swift-coming tempest that was very soon upon them, bringing Blake and Ford back, breathless and drenched, to report their observations along the beach,—that there was nothing in sight: everything had scudded to shelter. So all gathered in the lookout, whose heavy leaded glass, set in a stone frame, defied the fury of the elements. And, thus sheltered, the group in Uncle Sam’s outpost watched the sweep of the storm.
“It’s a ripper!” said Blake, translating the more professional opinion of his mates to Father Tom. “But we ain’t getting the worst of it here. These West Indianers travel narrow gauge tracks, and we’re out of line. Killykinick is catching it bad. Shouldn’t wonder if that stranded tub of the old Captain’s would keel over altogether.”
“You think they are in danger there?” asked Father Tom, anxiously.
“Oh, no! Thar’s plenty of other shelter. Killykinick is rock-ribbed to stand till the day of doom. George! I believe Last Island is going clean under!”
“Let her go!” came the keeper’s bluff response. “Been nothing but a bramble bed these twenty years.”
“Bramble bed or not, some fools are camping there,” said Blake. “I’ve seen their dogs on the beach for the last three days; and there was a boat moored to the rocks this morning, and boys scrambling along the shore. The folks that are boxed up in town all winter run wild when they break loose here, and don’t care where they go—”
“Hush!” broke in the keeper, suddenly. “Push open the glass there, men, and listen! I think I heard a gun!”
They flung open the window at his word. Borne upon the wild sweep of the wind that rushed in upon them, there came again a sound they all knew,—the signal of distress, the sharp call for help. It was their business to hear and heed.
“A gun sure, and from Last Island!” said the keeper, briefly. “There are fools there, as you say, Blake. Run out the lifeboat, my men! We must get them off. Both boats, for we don’t know how many we have to care for.”