The Pillar of Light. Tracy Louis

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СКАЧАТЬ will the tug reach here, Ben?" he asked.

      The fisherman told him the opinion he had formed.

      "Then you girls must come and help me. Jackson scalded his hands and arms in the kitchen, and Bates was hurrying to the store-room for oil and whitening when he slipped on the stairs and broke his leg. We must get them both ashore. Ben, you can take them?"

      "Ay, ay, sir."

      "Now, Constance, you first. Hold tight and stand in the skip. Your boat cannot come near the rock."

      He swung the derrick into place and began to work the windlass. Constance, cool as her father, whispered to the excited Enid:

      "Let us divide the parcels and take half each."

      "Oh, I should have forgotten all about them," said Enid, stooping to empty the lockers.

      Constance, without flickering an eyelid, stepped into the strong basket with its iron hoops, and, having arranged some of the plethoric paper bags at her feet, told her father to "hoist away."

      She arrived safely. Enid followed her, with equal sang froid, though a lift of forty odd feet whilst standing in a skip and clinging to a rope is not an every-day experience.

      "Dang me," said Ben, as Enid, too, was swung into the lighthouse, "but they're two plucked 'uns."

      The great bell tolled away, though the snow had changed to sleet, and the heights beyond the Land's End were dimly visible, so its warning note was no longer needed. The sky above was clearing. A luminous haze spreading over the waters heralded the return of the sun. But the wind was bitterly cold; the fisherman watching the open door, with one eye on the sea lest an adventurous wave should sweep the Daisy against the rock, murmured to himself:

      "'Tes a good job the wind 's i' the norrard. This sort o' thing's a weather-breeder, or my name ain't Ben Pollard."

      And that was how Enid came back to the Gulf Rock to enter upon the second great epoch of her life.

      Once before had the reef taken her to its rough heart and fended her from peril. Would it shield her again – rescue her from the graver danger whose shadow even now loomed out of the deep. What was the bell saying in its wistful monotony?

      Enid neither knew nor cared. Just then she had other things to think about.

      CHAPTER IV

      THE VOICE OF THE REEF

      There comes a time in the life of every thinking man or woman when the argosy of existence, floating placidly on a smooth and lazy stream, gathers unto itself speed, rushes swiftly onward past familiar landmarks of custom and convention, boils furiously over resisting rocks, and ultimately, if not submerged in an unknown sea, finds itself again meandering through new plains of wider horizon.

      Such a perilous passage can never be foreseen. The rapids may begin where the trees are highest and the meadows most luxuriant. No warning is given. The increased pace of events is pleasant and exhilarating. Even the last wild plunge over the cascade is neither resented nor feared. Some frail craft are shattered in transit, some wholly sunken, some emerge with riven sails and tarnished embellishments. A few not only survive the ordeal, but thereby fit themselves for more daring exploits, more soul-stirring adventures.

      When the two girls stood with Stephen Brand in the narrow entrance to the lighthouse, the gravity of their bright young faces was due solely to the fact that their father had announced the serious accidents which had befallen his assistants. No secret monitor whispered that fate, in her bold and merciless dramatic action, had roughly removed two characters from the stage to clear it for more striking events.

      Not once in twenty years has it happened that two out of the three keepers maintained on a rock station within signaling distance of the shore have become incapacitated for duty on the same day. The thing was so bewilderingly sudden, the arrival of Constance and Enid on the scene so timely and unexpected, that Brand, a philosopher of ready decision in most affairs of life, was at a loss what to do for the best now that help, of a sort undreamed of, was at hand.

      The case of Jackson, who was scalded, was simple enough. The Board of Trade medicine chest supplied to each lighthouse is a facsimile of that carried by every sea-going steamship. It contained the ordinary remedies for such an injury, and there would be little difficulty or danger in lowering the sufferer to the boat.

      But Bates's affair was different. He lay almost where he had fallen. Brand had only lifted him into the store-room from the foot of the stairs, placing a pillow beneath his head, and appealing both to him and to Jackson to endure their torture unmoved whilst he went to signal for assistance.

      The problem that confronted him now was one of judgment. Was is better to await the coming of the doctor or endeavor to transfer Bates to the boat?

      He consulted Ben Pollard again; the girls were already climbing the steep stairs to sympathize with and tend to the injured men.

      "Do you think it will blow harder, Ben, when the tide turns?" he asked.

      The old fellow seemed to regard the question as most interesting and novel. Indeed, to him, some such query and its consideration provided the chief problem of each day. Therefore he surveyed land, sea and sky most carefully before he replied:

      "It may be a'most anything afore night, Misser Brand."

      At another time Brand would have smiled. Today he was nervous, distraught, wrenched out of the worn rut of things.

      "I fancy there is some chance of the doctor being unable to land when he reaches the rock. Do you agree with me?"

      His voice rang sharply. Ben caught its note and dropped his weather-wise ambiguity.

      "It'll blow harder, an' mebbe snaw agin," he said.

      "I shall need some help here in that case, so I will retain the young ladies. Of course you can manage the boat easily enough without them?"

      Pollard grinned reassuringly.

      "We'm run straight in wi' thiccy wind," he said.

      So they settled it that way, all so simply.

      A man sets up two slim masts a thousand miles apart and flashes comprehensible messages across the void. The multitude gapes at first, but soon accepts the thing as reasonable. "Wireless telegraphy" is the term, as one says "by mail."

      A whole drama was flowing over a curve of the earth at that moment but the Marconi station was invisible. There was no expert in telepathic sensation present to tell Brand and the fisherman that their commonplace words covered a magic code.

      Jackson, white and mute, was lowered first. The brave fellow would not content himself with nursing his agony amidst the cushions aft. When Bates, given some slight strength by a stiff dose of brandy, was carried, with infinite care, down three flights of steep and narrow stairs, and slung to the crane in an iron cot to be lowered in his turn, Jackson stood up. Heedless of remonstrances, he helped to steady the cot and adjust it amidships clear of the sail.

      "Well done, Artie," said Brand's clear voice.

      "Oh, brave!" murmured Enid.

      "We will visit you every day at the hospital," sang out Constance.

      Jackson smiled, yes, smiled, though his bandaged arms quivered and the seared nerves of his hands throbbed СКАЧАТЬ