“Just so at my end of the beach,” said Woodbury Elliott, who immediately followed Tom. “Whew—w—w! An old–fashioned nor’easter!” “You saw nothin?” inquired Capt. Barney. And each patrol said, “Not a thing.”
“I hope it will stay so, for I think it’s goin’ to be the wust of the season. Come, boys, all pile upstairs early. There’s some hard trampin’ to be done ’fore daybreak.”
“Wall, we can say we have resuscitated one man to–day,” said Slim Tarleton.
“Ah, but we may have some real cases to–morrow. God forbid!”
It was Walter’s watch in the morning, from four till sunrise. He slept uneasily till his watch, vexed by dreams of wreck and rescue, of dead men’s faces and living wives’ sorrow. Rising, he dressed himself hurriedly a little before four. How the building shook in the wind, while the sea without was furious in its uproar!
“I’d like to stay in that warm bed. Booh! That cold walk makes me shiver! No help for it,” thought Walter, as he moved reluctantly toward the stairway and then descended it.
In the kitchen, dripping like a fish just pulled out of the water, was Slim Tarleton. He had finished his watch and Walter was his successor.
“I’d like to go for you, Walter, but it’s four now, and morning’s not such a terrible way off.”
“All quiet?”
“Everything except the sea, and that acts as bad as it can. Oh, I don’t imagine there will be any trouble.”