The cat appeared from under the stove and eyed them blinkingly. Bill Glass buttoned his old pea-jacket about him, found his hat and reached down a lantern.
“No call for us all to go, I cal’ate,” he said as he lighted it. “Leave your lantern here for them, Jack Herrick, an’ you come along o’ me.”
“That’s so, fellows,” said Jack. “We’ll get there quicker if there’s fewer of us. You wait here.”
“Aye, an’ build ye a fire in the stove, mates, an’ get warm. There be coffee there, an’ tea, likely, if you’ll look a bit. Come on, mate!”
CHAPTER XXIII
[The Life-Boat Wins]
Bill Glass, lantern in hand, plunged into the darkness and the storm, Jack following at his heels. Their way led them away from the winding river and under the radiance of the lantern Jack saw that they were treading a well-defined path through the marsh-grass. It was as much as he could do to keep up with his guide, whose shuffling gait, while it might look slow, covered ground with remarkable rapidity. And while Jack was forced to stagger under the force of the gale, Bill Glass, his head erect, never faltered. Five minutes of tramping brought them to the railroad trestle which was here raised some eight feet above the marsh, and even as they reached it the rails began to hum and afar to the northward a white light came into view.
“There she be,” said Bill. “Best give me a boost, mate; I be n’t as spry as I was.” Jack aided and Bill scrambled to the trestle. Then the lantern was handed up and Jack followed. If it had been hard to keep one’s footing below it was infinitely harder here and Jack was disconcerted to find that Bill meant to walk along the track. How he managed to step safely from one timber to another with that gale lashing and buffeting him Jack couldn’t understand, for it was all the boy could do to keep his feet. But fortunately a dozen yards brought them to a place where the cross timbers had been carried several feet out at the side of the trestle to accommodate a barrel of water for use in case of fire. Here there was room to stand out of the way of the train, and, better still, something to hold on to. Bill set the lantern on the track and waited.