"What a night!" soliloquized Derek, as he proceeded to unpack and prepare to turn in. "Thank goodness I'm not out. Wonder if our boats will drag their moorings? Well, here's to bed. I'll sleep like a log till morning."
Alas for that resolution! It seemed as if Daventry had been asleep but a few minutes when he was aroused by the Officer of the Watch.
"You'll have to turn out, Daventry, old man," he announced. "There's a vessel of some sort ashore on the Dairymaid Bank. The Fisherton life-boat is coming down harbour, and they want us to stand by. I've turned out the Duty Watch and told off No. 21's crew. Take her out and keep to windward of the shoal. There's a deuce of a sea breaking over it, so look out!"
Already Derek was out of bed and donning his sea-kit. A glance at his wristlet-watch showed that it was 3 a.m. The gale was at its height. Windows were rattling, stones were being hurled up from the beach and thudding against the shuttered windows of the building. Rain and sleet were descending in hissing and blinding sheets.
Literally battling his way to the pier-head Derek found his crew busily engaged in preparing motor-boat No. 21 for the coming contest with the elements. The craft was a stout one, specially built for hard work, and heavily engined. If any vessel on the station were capable of keeping the sea that night it was No. 21.
"Plenty of petrol, engineer?" shouted Derek, as he gained the deck of the plunging boat.
"Tanks full, sir."
"Good enough," rejoined Derek, holding on like grim death as the boat ground and bumped heavily against the piles of the pier. "Any sign of the life-boat, signalman?"
"Not yet in sight, sir."
The youthful Lieutenant gazed seaward. All was a chaotic blur of driving rain and spray. In vain he waited to see the occulting light on the distant Bar Buoy. It was no longer there. An unfortunate accident had extinguished the friendly gleam; and Heaven help the mariner who, running for shelter into Fisherton Harbour, reckoned upon finding the important light in position!