“You win,” admitted Fred. “But luckily for us it’s near dinner time so we still have a chance to live awhile.”
“Let’s hurry and clean up then before dad calls us to the table.”
As Lester stopped speaking, a gust of wind tore past the lighthouse with a mournful wail. The sound died down for a few seconds and then rose again in a dismal, long-drawn-out note that caused the boys to give an involuntary shudder.
“That’s the beginning,” declared Lester. “It will keep getting worse and worse, and after a while we’ll hardly be able to hear each other speak. We’re in for a real blow this time I think.”
“Let’s go up into the light room and see what it looks like outside,” suggested Fred. “It’s getting 175 dark fast and we’ll not be able to see anything before long.”
“All right, come ahead,” agreed Lester.
He headed the group up the spiral stairs that led to the lamp room.
An early dusk had fallen over the heaving ocean, yet it was not so dark but that they could see that the seas were rising rapidly. Here and there the big waves were capped with white crests as they raced away before the spur of the merciless wind. Already they were breaking against the rocks on which the lighthouse stood with a heavy roar and a force that caused the building, stout as it was, to tremble.
“It sure is working up fast, isn’t it?” asked Teddy in a subdued voice. “I’d hate to be out in it even now. And I suppose it hasn’t really begun to get bad yet.”
“You’re right, it hasn’t,” assented Lester grimly. “But now while we are up here, I’d better light the lamps. Then I can go down and eat with an easy conscience.”