“Up in Sentinel Cove. You know, where those two big rocks stand at the entrance.”
“Do you mean to say that you took the boat through that entrance while that storm was raging?” asked his father, in a tone in which surprise and pride were equally blended.
“There wasn’t anything else to do,” answered Lester.
“You ought to have seen the way he shot through there, Mr. Lee,” put in Fred. “It was a fine bit of seamanship. He’s your own son when it comes to sailing.”
“I’m glad I didn’t see him,” was the answer. “It would have made my hair grayer than it is, and that’s gray enough. But all’s well that ends well, and I needn’t tell you how thankful I am to have you turn up safe and sound. It wasn’t only my own boy, but I feel that I’m responsible for you young chaps, too, while you’re visiting here.”
69The boys had grown very fond of this kindly, hearty man who was their friend’s father. He had made them instantly welcome and given them the run of the place. His means were limited but his heart was big, and from the outset he had spared no pains to make them feel at home and to give them a good time.
There were no women on the little island, as Lester’s mother had died ten years before. Because of this, the father and son, having no one but each other, were bound together by the strongest affection.
Their housekeeping was of the simplest kind, but both of them were prime cooks and they set such an abundant table that even the boys with their ravenous appetites were completely satisfied. They even found a certain pleasure in the lack of some of the “trimmings,” as Teddy called them, that had surrounded them in their more elaborate homes. It gave them a sense of freedom, and the whole adventure became a sort of exalted camping out.
Bill’s life and Fred’s and Teddy’s recent experiences in the West had hardened and toughened them and also made them more self-reliant. The breezy outdoor life had become almost a necessity to them. So they entered heartily into the domestic arrangements at Bartanet Shoals, making their own beds and helping to prepare the meals. It is probable that some of their women relatives would have 70 sniffed contemptuously at some of the results they reached, but this bothered them not at all. They ate like wolves, slept like logs and were content.
Mr. Lee had followed the sea for many years. When scarcely out of his teens, he had entered the navy. Later, he had shipped as a whaler, and the boys listened breathlessly to the thrilling stories he had to tell of his adventures in that perilous calling. After his wife’s death, he felt that the interests of his son required that he should stay at home; so he had applied for the position of lighthouse keeper at Bartanet Shoals, and had received it.