Nearly twenty years before, Lucky Tom's father, Jack Bolden, had gone off in his schooner, the Petrel, to catch cod, and from that day neither the Petrel nor her crew were ever seen. After months had gone by, poor Mrs. Bolden fell into a fever, and when she was able to move about, she sat all day by the window, looking out upon the waves, and the neighbors gazed at her sorrowfully, for they said she had lost her reason; but in Meg's eyes, to whom she had always been the same, she was a very wise and mysterious person, and the tales she repeated to the little girl, woven from her deranged fancy, were full of strange sea-monsters, talking fish, and birds that whispered secrets to those who watched for long-absent friends. All these were listened to and believed with the full confidence of childish innocence.
Meg tied on her old and faded bonnet, picked up her basket, and walked away with a light step to the blueberry pasture.
She soon became so busy picking the clusters of round little fruit, as they peeped from beneath the dark and glossy leaves, that she did not see how dark the eastern sky had become, until a cool gust of wind caught her sun-bonnet, and sent it half across the field. Then she noticed that the sun was already hidden by the advancing clouds, and away out across the black fretted sea a long line of foam revealed the white-caps leaping in great haste over each other, just like a flock of sheep, in their race to reach the sands.
The only near refuge for poor Meg was the Life-saving Station—one of those lonely buildings that the government has placed along the coast, with boats and crews, whose duty keeps them on the watch all winter for shipwrecks. It was midsummer now, and the station was locked up tight; but Meg knew how to get the better of locks and bars. She reached the building just in time to escape a wetting from the thick rain that now shut out the sea and land alike, beating fiercely against the stout structure, and running in many little rivulets down the sand, to be swallowed up, as all water is at last, by the great ocean.
At one corner the winds had blown away the sand, so Meg found room to crawl with her basket beneath the floor, and a loose board she had long ago discovered admitted her to the interior. What a gloomy, close place in contrast with the wildness of the scene outside! Have you ever visited a station of the Life-saving Service? No? Well, then, I'll try, with the aid of the picture, to explain what it is like.
INTERIOR OF THE LIFE-SAVING STATION.
First, there is the life-boat, light but very strong, and shaped so it will rise over the tops of the waves rather than go through them. This one is handled by about six men; one, the captain, to steer, four men to row, and one with a pike-staff and lines in the bow. You notice that the wheels of the truck holding the boat are very wide; that allows them to roll over the sand without sinking into it. Under the boat is a leathern bucket, a coil of rope, and a grapnel or hook, and in front an ingenious device, consisting of a board with a row of pegs about the edge, upon which a line many hundreds of feet in length is placed, with the end tied to a projectile in the queer-looking cannon above. This is intended to be shot over the rigging of ships ashore, and used to haul out the larger rope upon the cart to the left of the picture, and to which the canvas bags hanging from the ceiling are fastened, to bring people from the wreck. Back of the cart you see rockets and signal torches, with a long tin trumpet, all neatly kept in a rack. There are lanterns too, and against the partition a mortar and some balls, two axes, and many other tools. With all of these and their uses Meg was well acquainted. Sometimes she had seen the crew run with the boat down to the water, and go through with their drill, when the Superintendent came there; and once the men hauled it out in the night, everybody greatly excited, and put out into the waves to pick up the crew of a sinking steamer; but a schooner was there first, and they only brought back a woman and little girl. How scared they did look, the poor things! and how thankful the child was for the use of Meg's only spare frock!
There seemed no prospect of the rain ceasing, and so Meg sat down in the back room upon a bench; and as it was not in the nature of such an active little girl to sit still long and keep awake, she very soon fell asleep.
When she started up from a dream full of strange sea-goblins, it was to find that everything was dark. The rain had ceased, and Meg, after rubbing her eyes, concluded to go home. When she lifted the board she discovered, to her terror, that the rain had washed her burrow full of sand, and she was a prisoner. The strong doors and windows resisted her puny efforts, so she sat down upon a coil of rope to consider the situation.