AS the night closed in, the wind rose steadily, still blowing from the
southwest. In Brenton’s kitchen they found a group round a great fire of
driftwood; some of these were fishermen who had with difficulty made a
landing on the beach, and who confirmed the accounts already given.
The boat had been seen sailing for the Narragansett shore, and when the
squall came, the boatman had lowered and reefed the sail, and stood for
the light-ship. They must be on board of her, if anywhere.
“There are safe there?” asked Philip, eagerly.
“Only place where they would be safe, then,” said the spokesman.
“Unless the light-ship parts,” said an old fellow.
“Parts!” said the other. “Sixty fathom of two-inch chain, and old Joe
talks about parting.”
“Foolish, of course,” said Philip; “but it’s a dangerous shore.”
“That’s so,” was the answer. “Never saw so many lines of reef show
outside, neither.”
“There’s an old saying on this shore,” said Joe:--
“When Price’s Neck goes to Brenton’s Reef,
Body and soul will come to grief.
But when Brenton’s Reef comes to Price’s Neck,
Soul and body are both a wreck.”
“What does it mean?” asked Harry.
“It only means,” said somebody, “that when you see it white all the way
out from the Neck to the Reef, you can’t take the inside passage.”
“But what does the last half mean?” persisted Harry.
“Don’t know as I know,” said the veteran, and relapsed into silence, in
which all joined him, while the wind howled and whistled outside, and
the barred windows shook.
Weary and restless with vain waiting, they looked from the doorway at
the weather. The door went back with a slam, and the gust swooped down
on them with that special blast that always seems to linger just outside
on such nights, ready for the first head that shows itself. They closed
the door upon the flickering fire and the uncouth shadows within, and
went forth into the night. At first the solid blackness seemed to lay a
weight on their foreheads. There was absolutely nothing to be seen
but the two lights of the light-ship, glaring from the dark sea like
a wolf’s eyes from a cavern. They looked nearer and brighter than in
ordinary nights, and appeared to the excited senses of the young men to
dance strangely on the waves, and to be always opposite to them, as they
moved along the shore with the wind almost at their backs.
“What did that old fellow mean?” said Malbone in Harry’s ear, as they
came to a protected place and could hear each other, “by talking of
Brenton’s Reef coming to Price’s Neck.”
“Some sailor’s doggerel,” said Harry, indifferently. “Here is Price’s
Neck before us, and yonder is Brenton’s Reef.”
“Where?” said Philip, looking round bewildered.
The lights had gone, as if the wolf, weary of watching, had suddenly
closed his eyes, and slumbered in his cave.
Harry trembled and shivered. In Heaven’s name, what could this
disappearance mean?
Suddenly a sheet of lightning came, so white and intense, it sent its
light all the way out to the horizon and exhibited far-off vessels, that
reeled and tossed and looked as if wandering without a guide. But this
was not so startling as what it showed in the foreground.
There drifted heavily upon the waves, within full view from the shore,
moving parallel to it, yet gradually approaching, an uncouth shape that
seemed a vessel and yet not a vessel; two stunted masts projected above,
and below there could be read, in dark letters that apparently swayed
and trembled in the wan lightning, as the thing moved on,