ROUTINE DUTY.
During the three days which elapsed after the crew began work on the
wreck Benny found sufficient with which to occupy his time.
From early morning until after dinner he was engaged in the kitchen, or
in setting to rights the different apartments of the station, and the
result of his work was soon apparent. Never before during the active
season had the interior of the building been so cleanly, and the men
were delighted with the agreeable change.
“You’re what might be called an A 1 housekeeper, Benjamin,” Tom Downey
said one day as he returned to the station unexpectedly and found the
lad washing the floor of the sleeping room. “All hands of us turn to
and clean up once a week, according to the rules and regulations,
but somehow we don’t get it as neat as you do, and it’s littered up
in great shape forty-eight hours later. Now, everything is bright
and clean as a new pin, and I reckon we’re gettin’ the best of this
guardianship business.”
“I’m glad if you think I’m paying our board, sir,” Benny replied,
pleased because of the praise bestowed upon him.
“You’re doing more than that, my lad, an’ we must hit upon some plan
of squaring matters. A lad who takes it upon himself to see that our
outside clothing is properly dried after we come in from a day’s work
is worth considerably more than what he and an imitation dog can eat,
to say nothing of the other duties you have assumed.”
“If you’ll be as pleased to have me here as I am to stay, it’ll be a
big thing for Fluff an’ me, sir.”
“I allow matters are about in that shape already, and we’ll see if
something in the way of an allowance can’t be made for the extra work
you’re doing.”
“Do you mean that you’ll pay me money, sir?”
“That’s what the boys are talking about. You see we count on your going
to school next season, and you must have a nest-egg before then, in
order to pay your way.”
“I’d rather it shouldn’t be done, sir,” Benny replied gravely. “It’s
mighty good of you to say I’m helpin’ along; but I’m sure this kind
of work isn’t worth more than our board. If the men would be willing
to teach me the rules of the service, and let me join in the drill
sometimes, I’d be glad.”
“What’s your idea in doing that, Benjamin?”
“If I knew how to handle a boat in the surf, and could go through the
drill, perhaps I might get a job as a surfman.”
Tom Downey laughed loudly, until noting the red flush which crept
over the lad’s face, when he checked his mirth suddenly, as he said
seriously:
“You’re not much bigger than a peanut, Benny, and I’m afraid you
wouldn’t cut any figger in a boat.”
“But I’m bound to grow, sir. Of course I couldn’t do anything of the
kind now, but after a spell perhaps I’ll be big enough.”
“Why do you want to get into the service, lad? Every member of a crew
takes his life in his hand when there’s work to be done, and you’ve
already had a chance to see that the duties are not only dangerous, but
severe.”
“Yes, sir; but whenever you save a man from drowning it must make you
feel mighty good, and that squares up for all the hard work. I’d rather
be a regular member of the crew than anything else.”
“That comes of your having been thrown among us; but once you go out
into the world you’ll have different ideas.”
“I’ve seen quite a bit of it already, sir, and never thought so much of
what I might be able to do,” Benny replied meekly.
“I’ll admit, lad, that you’ve knocked around considerable for one of
your age--seen more of the world than any of us; but--I’ll tell you
what it is, Benny, you shall learn the drill, and when spring comes
we’ll show you how to handle a boat, although I’m not certain any of
the crew would agree to your entering this branch of the service.”
The conversation came to an end at this point for the time being, so
far as Benny was concerned; but when Tom Downey had an opportunity of
speaking privately with the crew, he repeated all that had been said,
treating the matter as if it gave him no slight degree of pleasure
because the lad was inclined to enter the service.
“I’ll answer for it he shall know how to handle a surf-boat ’twixt now
and next summer,” Sam Hardy said decidedly. “That boy has got sand, an’
a good deal of it, else he’d never worked in as he has here.”
“If his mind is set on such a life, I’m another as will help the little
whifflet along,” Joe Cushing added with a laugh, and although no
lengthy discussion was indulged in at the time, all the crew appeared
to consider it as settled that Benny should be instructed in the duties
of life-saving.
It is not to be supposed that the boy worked every moment of daylight.
After the dishes used at dinner had been washed, the cook insisted that
he go out of doors with Fluff, and the pine grove was his favorite
playground. Here, despite the cold weather, he roamed to and fro while
the dog chased imaginary squirrels and his own shadow, until the frosty
air drove both inside the station again.
It was while he was enjoying his “outing” that the bodies lately
recovered from the _Amazonia_ were removed by the coroner, and Benny
asked no questions concerning them. There was in his mind the fear that
by speaking of the wreck, when it would be impossible to control his
sorrow, he might displease those who were so kind, and all this he kept
a secret from every one save Fluff.
When he was alone with the dog, however, and the moaning and roaring of
the surf told of what had been done on that forbidding coast, he poured
out all his heart to Fluff, and those who had gone into the Unknown
from the decks of the _Amazonia_ had at least one sincere mourner.
Each evening Benny accompanied one or the other of the men on patrol
duty, and appeared to take the liveliest interest at all times in
watching for signs of some craft in distress. At every convenient
opportunity during the day he visited the lookout on the bluff, and
when not otherwise engaged pored over the regulations of the service
until, as Joe Cushing said, he believed the lad “could come near to
repeating every word in the book.”
During three days of pleasant weather the crew brought on shore the
little which could be saved from what remained of the _Amazonia_, and
the men had settled down to a round of routine duty.
It was Sam Hardy’s turn to begin the patrol work of the night, and,
much to Benny’s satisfaction, he called upon the lad to accompany him.
“I’m thinkin’ it will be your last chance for some time, according to
the indications, and I’ll set myself down as a Dutchman if we don’t
have a blow ’twixt now and mornin’ that will go ahead of anything you
ever saw on this coast.”
Now that Fluff C. Foster was well acquainted with the members of the
crew, Benny did not consider it necessary to carry his pet whenever he
went out, therefore the dog was left behind, and, well wrapped in thick
clothing, Benny set off, having received the assurance from Sam that he
would be allowed to share in the entire four hours of duty.
The wind had increased in force until it was difficult to make one’s
way over the bold headlands through the snow, and more than once did
Sam Hardy find it necessary to seek a shelter while he rested from the
severe labor.
An unusually vigilant watch was kept over the broad expanse of waters,
for this was a time when the life savers along the coast knew their
services would most likely be needed. There would probably be some
vessels, through carelessness, ignorance, or mishap, in distress, and
whatever of peril might await them, the men of the service must be
prepared to put off in their boats for a battle with the raging waters.
“This wind is gettin’ into shape for a regular tearer,” Sam said when
the two, partially sheltered by the rocks, stood peering out over the
heaving waters. “Them as are outside to-morrow morning will do well to
see that they have plenty of sea-room.”
Already had the first particles of snow begun to fall, and the air was
rapidly growing colder.
“It ain’t often we have two big storms so near together; but it’s
coming this time, an’ I’m mistaken if we don’t have plenty of work
before the sun sets to-morrow.”
“It doesn’t seem possible you could see very far after it begins to
snow.”
“We can’t, lad, an’ that’s a fact; but I allow our eyes do better
service than those that haven’t been trained to the work. There’s Dick
Sawyer, for instance, he’s by far the best man among us in this kind of
work. I’ve been with him when it seemed as if he smelled a vessel, for
he’s struck his signal when I couldn’t see six inches before my nose,
an’ I never knew him to go wrong. But we can’t loaf here much longer if
we count on covering our beat in the regulation time.”
It was as if the storm had begun without warning. The first particles
had no more than fallen when the air seemed thick with swirling wreaths
that struck the skin like needle-points, and were forced by the
increasing wind through every aperture in one’s clothing.
Benny found it necessary to shield his eyes, because of the pain caused
by the icy particles, and could give little heed to his footsteps, but
followed directly behind his companion.
Sam, on the contrary, appeared to suffer no especial inconvenience; he
kept constant watch over the sea, although at times it was necessary
to cover his eyes, and breasted his way against the wind as if finding
real pleasure in the struggle.
“I’m sorry you came to-night, lad,” he said when they paused for
an instant. “My idea was that this flurry would hold off till past
midnight, or you wouldn’t have had a chance to show your nose outside
the station.”
“I’d been sorry if you hadn’t let me come, ’cause I’ll never make any
fist at being a surfman by staying under cover all the time.”
“It ain’t my plan to coddle you up, Benjamin; but at the same time
there’s no good reason why you should get it quite so tough at the
start. You won’t learn much----”
Sam paused as, sheltering his eyes, he gazed steadily seaward, and
Benny tried in vain to discover what had thus attracted his companion’s
attention.
During fully a minute the surfman stood immovable as a statue,
regardless of the howling wind and stinging snow, and then muttered
half to himself, as he drew from his pocket one of the Coston signals:
“The work has begun sooner than I counted on.”
“What do you mean?” Benny asked anxiously.
“There’s a three-masted schooner less than a mile away, I should say,
and doing her best to crawl off from the land.”
Benny strained his eyes to pierce the fleecy cloud which enveloped him;
but nothing save the swirling wreaths could be distinguished.
“I can’t make out anything,” he exclaimed in a tone of regret.
“And it ain’t to be wondered at, lad. Wait until you’ve been on patrol
duty a dozen nights like this, and you’ll find it a different matter. I
can see the schooner now an’ then, an’ allow she’s got a fore-staysail,
reefed foresail, and spanker set; but don’t seem to be crawling off
very fast. We’ll let her know that the crew at this station ain’t
asleep.”
While speaking he had inserted the signal in its wooden handle, and as
he concluded, struck it sharply against a rock.
There was a crackling and spitting of fire for an instant, after which
the light burned out with apparently almost as much brilliancy as that
displayed from the lighthouse a short distance away, and the glare
literally blinded Benny.
When it died away the night seemed yet darker than before, and the lad
peered straight ahead in the direction pointed out by Sam until he
fancied he saw a tiny flare appear and disappear at brief intervals.
“They have seen us,” Sam said in a tone of satisfaction. “That wisp
of flame was their answer, and I allow by its having been given so
quickly that all hands understand they’d better have headed for deep
water sooner. Word must be taken to the station, and I’m doubtful about
leavin’ here. I wonder could you find your way back, Benny?”
“Of course I could, and I’ll be mighty glad of the chance to try. What
shall I tell the keeper?”
“I am not so certain that I’ve got any right to let you take the
chances, for in this storm a lad who is green at the business can
easily get bewildered.”
“_I_ shan’t,” Benny replied quickly. “Please let me go, Mr. Hardy, for
it’ll show that I can be of some little help in the work, and perhaps
the men will think I may be a surfman in time, even if I am small.”
“You shall make the venture, my boy. Do you hear that whistle now and
then?”
“I have been hearing it for some time, sir. There must be a steamer
near by.”
“Why, bless your soul, Benny, haven’t you found out by this time that
there’s a steam fog-horn near the lighthouse. I counted on their
setting it going when this smother first gave signs of coming.”
Benny remembered now that the cook had pointed out to him a small
brick building painted white, which had at one side a curiously shaped
funnel, and told him this last was the fog-horn; but other matters
were occupying his mind at the time, and he gave little heed to the
information.
“Keep straight on after that sound,” Sam said as he saw to it that
Benny’s coat was closely buttoned. “Don’t try to travel too fast, for
there’s plenty of time. Even if that craft comes to grief, she won’t
strike inside of an hour. When you get to the station there’s nothing
to be done save tell the keeper what we’ve seen, and that the schooner
lays off Skinner’s Point.”
“Shall I come back, sir?”
“Come back through this storm, Benny? Why, you’re crazy! There’s such
a thing as learning a surfman’s duties; but attempting to find me out
here in this swirl ain’t one of ’em. Even if I was fool enough to say
you might try it, the rest of the crew would take good care you didn’t
get outside the station again. Now be off, lad, and keep your wits well
about you. Remember that you’ll bring up nearabout the building if you
follow the sound of the whistle.”
[Illustration]
Benny was proud indeed as he began what unquestionably was, for a
person unfamiliar with the locality, a perilous journey.
There was in his mind the knowledge that he was taking some slight
part in the work of life-saving, and that by his making this venture
Sam Hardy could remain on duty where he might possibly be of great
assistance to those who were in danger.
To push on alone over the rocks, through drifts of snow, beaten and
buffeted by the wind, and half blinded by the icy particles, was
entirely different from following behind Sam. Previously he had been
partially sheltered by the surfman’s body; but now it was necessary
to breast the storm alone, and there were many times when he found it
literally impossible to proceed, for the wind came in spiteful gusts
that nearly threw him from his feet.
Many times did he unconsciously turn aside from the direct course, and
when the whistle sounded again he was forced to make a detour in this
direction or that, at the cost of many additional steps. Then again it
was as if the heavy booming came from all sides, and save for the fact
that he remained motionless until the force of the wind lessened, he
might have lost his way completely.
Although the air was bitterly cold Benny was hardly aware of the fact;
the severe labor of making his way through the drifts and against the
blasts warmed his body until he perspired even at the same time that
his hands and face were chilled by the frost.
When he came upon the light of the station, suddenly, as it were, it
appeared to him as if a full hour must have been spent in the journey,
and now that the task was accomplished it seemed impossible he could
have continued on five minutes longer.
There was no need for him to explain why he had returned alone. The
waiting crew, fearing news of disaster, understood at once that Sam
Hardy would not have sent the boy back unless he had grave reasons for
doing so, and before Benny could speak Dick Sawyer cried:
“What have you seen, lad?”
Benny understood that his report should be made to the keeper, and,
therefore, instead of answering Sawyer’s question, he turned to Mr.
Downey, describing what Hardy had seen.
“Off Skinner’s Point, eh?” Downey said as he took from the pegs where
it was hanging, his suit of oiled clothing. “How far away?”
“Mr. Hardy said about a mile; but I didn’t see any sign of a vessel,
except when the little light showed itself.”
“You’ll need to go on patrol more than once, lad,” Joe Cushing said
with a laugh, “before you’ll make much of a fist at seeing a craft a
mile away on such a night as this.”
“I’ll get so I can in time, if you allow me to go out on patrol,” Benny
replied confidently, and then, turning to the keeper, he added, “Mr.
Hardy said I wasn’t to come back; but if there’s any message you’d
like sent him, sir, I’m certain I can carry it.”
“Would you be willing to go through this storm from here to Skinner’s
Point when there was no real need of it?”
“If there was a chance I might be of service, I’d be glad to, sir, and,
besides, such work as that would be helping me along in learning a
surfman’s duties.”
“It seems a cruel thing to do,” Downey said half to himself; “but I’ve
a mind to let you go with us.”
“If you only would, sir!”
“What about leavin’ Fluff C. Foster alone? All hands of us, except the
cook, must go.”
“Fluff will behave himself, I’m certain, for he doesn’t make any
trouble when I tell him he must stay alone.”
“Thaw yourself a bit by the fire while we’re getting the beach-wagon
out, and then you shall do your share of the work, unless it so chances
we’re forced to launch the boat.”
During this time every member of the crew had been preparing for the
arduous labor before him, and the men were in readiness when Keeper
Downey led the way toward the door.
Benny had no idea of spending valuable time in front of the fire. He
delayed only an instant to pet Fluff, and whisper in the dog’s ear
that it was necessary he remain inside the building quietly.
“You see I’m going to take my first lesson as a surfman, Fluffy, and
it’s as much to your interest as mine that I do it, because we’ve got
to pay our way somehow, and it can’t always be done by washing dishes
and clearing up the house. Now be a good dog, and don’t go outside, for
you’d surely get lost in the snow.”
Then Benny replenished the fire, throwing on sufficient coal to keep it
glowing several hours at least, and, closing the door behind him lest
Fluff should be tempted to disobey his command, joined the men at the
door of the boat-room.
Four of the crew were putting the drag-ropes over their shoulders; Joe
Cushing and Keeper Downey were at the handles, although had the full
crew been present Sam would have occupied the position which was now
filled by the keeper, and the latter’s station would have been at the
rear of the cart.
“You shall take my place, Benny, which is behind. Don’t exert yourself
to push too strongly; but you may pull back the best you know how when
we are going downhill.”
“There’ll be little holding back needed through this snow,” Joe said
with a cheery laugh, such as he might have indulged in had they been
setting out on some pleasure excursion.
Benny had studied a diagram in the _Revised Regulations_, showing
how the beach-wagon should be manned, as given below, therefore knew
exactly what were his duties.
[Illustration]
He heeded not the excessive labor which was before them in dragging the
cart more than half a mile over the rocks and through the snow-drifts,
because of the proud satisfaction which was his in thus being allowed
to share the duties of the men.
The crew set off at a slow pace. It was reasonable to suppose,
however imminent the danger which threatened the schooner, that some
considerable time must elapse before they could begin the work of
life-saving, and it was necessary to husband their strength because of
the difficult and protracted task before them.
Benny asked himself, even as they started, how it would be possible to
drag the heavy wagon over the course traversed by the patrol, for he
knew that in many places they would be forced to clamber up cliff-like
masses of rocks, and again drag the wagon through the drifts of snow
that under other circumstances would seem impassable.
The crew, however, appeared to give no heed to the difficulties in the
way; but set out on this journey which, fatiguing as it must be, was
but the beginning of their night of work.