A SINGLE CHANCE.
The sea grew rougher as the wind freshened, just as Jack had feared it
would. The little boat fairly flew along now, at times almost burying
her lee gunwale. It was at such moments that Jack showed his skill as
a sailor. One fraction of a mistake in his handling of the small craft
and she would have keeled over a particle of an inch too far and filled
up.
But with a closer view of the island a disconcerting fact was
discovered. There appeared to be no place to land. The surf could be
seen in great white clouds rising from the white beach, on which the
big rollers crashed with a noise like thunder.
“How in the world are we going to land there?” Tom asked in dismay,
gazing at the surf as it was tossed ten feet into the air. The thunder
and roar of it could be plainly heard.
“We’d be smashed up in a second in those rollers,” declared Jack. “We
must find some other landing place, that’s all.”
At the risk of swamping the boat, he headed her on a course that would
carry them around the lighthouse end of the island. Flying along, half
buried in foam, the little craft made good weather of it. But they now
had a beam sea, and she was more difficult to manage.
Suddenly, from a small tin-roofed house that nestled under the tall
lighthouse, a man came running at top speed. He had seen the boat and
now shouted something, pointing to the other side of the island. Jack
rightly guessed that he meant that there was a harbor on that side.
Hurling spray high over her, the little boat dashed around the end
of the islet. On the other side the sea was just as high, but a sort
of reef ran out at one point, behind which natural breakwater lay the
harbor of which the lighthouse keeper had tried to tell them.
The waves broke on the reef with terrific violence, and at first Jack
looked in vain for an opening. At last, however, he saw one. But it
looked terribly narrow. To get through it he would have to run his boat
almost in the shadow of the big breakers, any one of which would have
smashed boys and boat like eggshells. Yet he knew that he must make
that opening to reach the smooth water beyond.
Luffing up, he went about on another tack. In his eagerness he stood
half upright in the stern, crouching forward above his steering oar,
guiding the plunging boat as a skilled horseman controls a restive
animal. Tom, who was huddled in the bottom of the boat so as to give
her more stability, saw the opening. He glanced back at Jack with a
look that said:
“Dare we chance it?”
Jack’s lips were set in a grim line. His muscles stood out like
whipcords on his arms. The wind blew back his curls above his high
forehead. He was a picture of strong, confident, American youth. But in
reality there was in his heart anything but confidence that he could
make that opening. It could not have been more than twelve feet or so
across, and on either side the cruel fangs of the reef showed when the
rollers broke over them.
On flew the boat like a runaway horse with the bit in its teeth. But
Jack had her under perfect control. Twice he tacked; once, in executing
the maneuver, he almost swamped his small craft. But she recovered and
once more headed up for that pitifully small opening between the teeth
of the reef.
This time Jack did not tack. Gripping his steering oar with one hand,
and the sheet rope of the sail with the other, he made straight for the
opening. Grimly he told himself that he must force the boat through. It
was that or the alternative of being pounded to death on the reef.
And now the opening was quite close. With fascinated eyes and beating
heart Tom gazed at it and then stole a backward look at Jack. The
figure he saw gave him confidence that, come what might, Jack would not
lose his nerve in a situation where the slightest hesitancy might mean
death for both of them.
Almost at the same instant the reef was on them. Tom almost uttered a
cry as he saw the boat headed for what appeared to mean annihilation.
But with a quick, skillful twist of his oar, Jack headed her off, and
like an arrow she shot for the opening.
As she flew through it, Tom could have reached out and touched the
reef with his left hand, by so close a margin of safety did they gain
entrance. But the daring trip was made in surety, and the next instant
the reefs were thundering behind them and they were skimming over calm
water inside the natural breakwater, formed by the outer rim of rocks.
“I never thought you could do it, Jack,” exclaimed Tom, fixing admiring
eyes on his chum. “It was the cleverest bit of boat handling I’ve ever
seen.”
“Oh, it wasn’t so very hard,” rejoined Jack modestly; “it was getting
on a tack that would bring me flying through, that was the hard part.”
“I was scared stiff, I can tell you. I thought sure we’d be battered to
a pulp on those rocks.”
“All the more credit to you for not making a holler. Luckily I had too
much to do to think of getting scared. But it’s all over now, and I’m
not a bit sorry, I can tell you. All the skin is off my hands. But——
Hullo! there comes the lightkeeper down to meet us.”
The same man whom they had seen run out on the beach was now coming
down to a sort of rough wharf which stretched out into the lagoon. He
was a tall chap, thin and lanky, with an unhealthy-looking complexion.
As they drew closer they saw that his face was streaked with shadows
and drawn in tense lines. His eyes were sunken and blurred. Apparently
he was not far off from a breakdown.
“Oh, but I’m glad you’ve come!” he exclaimed in a voice that was half
hysterical. “My partner has been gone for more than two days! I guess
that fog delayed him getting back, and the light’s gone bad—she’s
gone bad. Last night she wouldn’t shine, and there are big reefs that
stretch out for miles that her light warns of.”
The boys tied the boat and climbed up a flight of rough steps to reach
the surface of the wharf. The man greeted them with open hands.
“I should have gone crazy if you had not come!” he exclaimed. “I should
have gone crazy!”
“What’s the matter with the light?” asked Jack.
“I don’t know. The boss is the mechanic. He could have fixed it, but he
went away on the supply ship. He should have been back last night, but
he didn’t come. Oh, I have had a terrible night!”
“Surely something can be done,” said Tom, really distressed by the
man’s excitement.
“I don’t know. I can’t tell what is the matter,” was the rejoinder.
“Well, I have some little mechanical skill,” replied Jack. “Suppose we
go up to your house and have some breakfast, of which you seem to be in
need and we certainly are, and then I and my cousin, Tom Jesson here,
will go to work on your light.”