A FLASH IN THE DARK
An hour later darkness lay like a black blanket over the waters of
Superior. Every moment of that hour saw the gale increase and the waves
mount higher, yet the strong arms of Katie never wavered. Heading
straight away from the storm, she held their boat to a course.
Florence was obliged to admit that for once her steady nerves that had
stood so much had now all but deserted her. What was the end to be? Would
they drift on and on in the path of the storm until waves were strong
enough to swamp their boat? As she listened she caught the low hiss of
each wave and shuddered in spite of her courage.
Then, with a suddenness that was startling, a light that was fairly
blinding flashed over their heads. Florence was thrown into
consternation.
“Ka-Katie!” she cried. “What is it? Are we in the path of a steamer?”
Through her mind there flashed a vision of some black bulk looming out of
the night.
As for Katie, so overcome by emotion was she that for a space of seconds
she could not speak. When at last she found her voice, she exclaimed
joyously, “It is the Passage Island light. I forgot it. We are almost at
the island. Listen—”
As they both listened there came the roar of waters beating on rocks.
“It—it’s terrible,” Florence said in a low, awed tone. “We couldn’t land
there. Our boat would be smashed to splinters.”
“No, not there,” Katie agreed. “But on this side there is an entrance.
There is a snug little harbor. If only we can find that—”
“Yes, if only we can. We—”
Suddenly Florence’s voice was drowned by a hoarse hoot that filled all
the night.
“Oh!” she all but jumped out of the boat. Then she laughed. “The Passage
fog horn! I have heard it at a distance.”
“Yes,” Katie agreed, “the light and the horn. They should have been there
before.”
“Perhaps something was wrong with their power.”
After that, for some time neither girl spoke. Katie was busy with the
oars and Florence with her thoughts. Long thoughts they were, you may be
sure.
It was a relief to know their position. And yet, how much danger lurked
before them? Ships going north pass between Isle Royale and Passage
Island. Should they find themselves in the path of a freighter the black
waters of the night might swallow up their smashed boat. Their fate would
never be known. They were headed for Passage Island. But could they find
the entrance to that harbor?
“Katie,” Florence said, “how wide is it?”
“Is what?” Katie demanded.
“The entrance to that harbor.”
“Twenty feet, I think,” Katie replied.
“Twenty feet!” Florence thought this but did not say it. Could they find
such an entrance in the dark and could they, with waves mounting high,
make that entrance? It seemed to her all but impossible.
A sudden feeling of rebellion swept over her. Here she was taking a day
off, trying to have a good time. For weeks she had worked hard with
little or no hope of reward. She had worked for the good of others. And
now—
“It’s not fair!” she whispered. “Not fair at all.” Her fists clenched
tight, she looked out over the black waters where white crests of foam
played.
One moment more and she was in a different mood. What was it, after all,
that she had asked of life? Thrills, adventure, suspense, mystery, that
was it. Happy adventure. Well, she had known all these.
“And this,” she told herself stoutly, “shall be just one more happy
adventure.”
But now Katie was straining eyes and ears. “We are close, perhaps too
close,” she murmured. “Sometimes the waves, they bring you in.”
She veered to the right. Dashes of spray cut sharply at their cheeks. “We
must take it,” she insisted, “or we may crash.”
Florence “took it” in silence.
The whole setting was strange beyond belief. With that bright light
flashing above them they were in darkness. Not one trace could they see
of the cliffs against which the waters dashed madly.
Then, for the first time, as if to light their way, there came a gleam
from the clouds.
“Lightning!” said Florence.
“Rocks! Close—too close!” exclaimed Katie. They were both right.
The moments that followed will remain long in Florence’s memory. No more
flashes came. The roar of surf on rocks was deafening. They were close.
But how close? Were there low, jutting rocks ahead? Would there come a
grinding crash and after that the end? Somewhere in that wall was a gap.
Where? How were they to find it?
It seemed the darkness and suspense would become unbearable. Then came
again that flash across the sky. Three flashes, close together. These
served only to mock them. The first flash gave them hope. The rocky wall
was still there. Perhaps the gap was only a little way ahead.
Now came a second flash. What was this? The wall was low now. It seemed
that here were only jagged rocks. The girl’s heart sank.
One more moment passed into eternity, then another flash and she knew.
About them was only black water flecked with foam. They had drifted past
the mile-long island without finding the gap. They could not go back.
They must go on. Where to?
Florence buried her face in her hands and tried to think, but her
thoughts, like the sky and sea, were one mad whirl.