Ashore, in the house, Mary Vanton’s foresight and careful preparation
were being vindicated, and the facilities that she had at her disposal
were being taxed to the limit.
Four men had been brought ashore in the buoy. All four of them had to
be stripped of their clothing and partially reclothed in dry apparel.
All four needed brandy, coffee, food, none of them was in a condition
to receive. Of these and of the Coast Guardsmen some were frostbitten
and had to be rubbed with snow, others had cuts and bruises that
required attention. Two were delirious, and for these she found some
sedative; no one, herself included, ever could remember afterward what
it was. One long living room did really resemble a hospital ward. The
other living room resembled a free-lunch counter in unusual disarray.
Food was beginning to play out, but of hot coffee there remained a
plenty for all.
Keturah and the servant tended to the food and drink, except that Mary
herself kept charge of the brandy. The governess was busy with bandages
and liniments; John stood watch over the patients and ministered to
them as best he could, helping his mother. Young Guy, exhausted from
the excitement, had been carried at last, half asleep, to his bed and
simply dropped upon it with his clothes on. Through all the excitement
the youngest child, Mermaid, had slept without waking. It was now two
o’clock in the morning.
The door opened, for the one hundred and thirty-first time, perhaps,
that night, and two Coast Guardsmen stumbled in carrying the lifeless
body of Guy Vanton. Mary Vanton looked upon it without a tremor, kept
control of herself absolutely until it was certain that he was dead.
Then she had him carried into her room upstairs and herself covered his
face. She came out quietly and turned the key in the door, slipped it
into her pocket, and started downstairs.
Something in her expression sent terror striking right through the
heart of her first-born. John was beside her, had kept beside her from
the moment when his father’s body was brought in. His arm went about
her.
“Mother!”
She stopped uncertainly on the staircase and looked at him. Her lips
moved a little but she did not say anything. Her foot slipped on the
step, but she caught herself by the handrail and then stood there in
absolute quiet. The boy looked at her steadily. Their eyes met. She
reached out her hand, with a weary effort, and drew him close to her.