A NIGHT IN ALLIGATOR LIGHT.
While taking Worth and Quorum out to the light, Assistant Keeper Albury
told them how the canoes had been towed out to sea by a Jew-fish, and
described the difficulty he had had in capturing them. Although Worth
listened to all this with interest, his pleasure in having the mystery
cleared up, and at the prospect of recovering the canoes, was sadly
dampened by his increasing anxiety concerning Sumner's fate. What can
have become of him? was the question that he asked over and over again,
but to which neither of the men could give an answer.
They were cordially welcomed to the light by the keeper, who was always
glad to have visitors to his lonely domain, and Worth easily proved his
ownership of the canoes by describing their contents.
The light-house was a skeleton frame-work of iron, with its lower
platform about twelve feet above water that surrounded it on all sides.
On this platform lay the two canoes, side by side, looking as fresh
and unharmed as when Worth had last seen them at anchor off Lignum
Vitæ. If Sumner had only been there, how he would have rejoiced over
them! As it was, he gave them but a hurried examination to assure
himself that they were all right, and then followed the keeper up the
flight of iron steps leading to the house. The portion of this in which
the men lived was a huge iron cylinder, surrounded by a balcony, and
divided into several rooms. Above it rose a slender iron shaft, in
which was a circular stairway leading to the lantern at its top. Worth
ascended this with the keeper to witness the lighting of the great
lamp, and the movements of the revolving machinery by which the red and
white flashes were produced.
From this elevation a long line of keys was visible, while the one they
had so recently left seemed quite close at hand. While gazing at it,
Worth saw a schooner come down the channel from the direction of Lignum
Vitæ, and lower her sails, as if for the night, under its lee.
"Oh, Mr. Spencer!" he cried, "there's a schooner come to anchor close
to Indian Key. Perhaps her people are looking for us, and perhaps they
have brought news of Sumner. Can't we take the canoes now and sail over
there?"
"Bless you, no, lad! I wouldn't for anything have it on my conscience
that I'd let you go sailing around these waters at night in those
cockle-shells. There's no doubt but what she'll stay there till
morning, and if the weather is good, you can make a start as soon after
daylight as ever you like; but you'll have to content yourself here
till then. I couldn't think of letting you go before."
To this decision Worth was forced to submit, and after the lamp was
lighted he followed the keeper to the living-rooms below. Here he
found Quorum hard at work at his favorite occupation of cooking. He
was preparing a most savory fish chowder, and when they sat down to
supper both the keepers declared that in all their experience they had
never tasted its equal. The second assistant keeper was then absent on
the two-weeks' vacation, to which each of them was entitled after two
months of service in the light. They only regretted that Quorum could
not remain until his return, that he too might learn the possibilities
of a fish chowder.
Worth was so charmed with his novel surroundings, and by the quaint
bits of light-house experience related by the keepers, that until
bed-time, he almost forgot his anxiety. When he had gone to bed in the
scrupulously neat and clean guest-chamber, after charging the keepers
to waken him at the earliest dawn, it returned in full force, and for
a long time drove sleep from his eyes. As he lay listening to the
keeper on watch making his half-hourly trips up to the lantern, and to
the lapping of the waves about the iron piling of the foundation, he
imagined all sorts of dreadful things as having happened to Sumner, and
even after he fell asleep his dreams were of the same character.
From this unhappy dreaming he was awakened while it was still quite
dark, though the keeper, who was standing beside his bed, assured him
that day was breaking. At this, and remembering his cause for haste,
the boy sprang out of bed and quickly dressed himself. In the outer
room he found Quorum already up and waiting for him, and he also found
a steaming pot of coffee. Fortified by a cup of this and a biscuit, he
declared himself ready for the voyage back to Indian Key.
As they stepped outside, the light was sufficiently strong for them to
dimly discern the distant line of keys, and preparations were at once
made to place the canoes in the water. Worth's was the first swung from
the platform davits and lowered, while he, descending a rope-ladder,
one end of which touched the water, was ready to cast off the falls
and step into her. Then Quorum was invited to do the same thing with
the _Psyche_; but the old negro drew back apprehensively, exclaiming:
"No, sah, gen'l'men. De ole niggah am a big fool, but him no sich fool
dat him t'ink hese'f er monkey, an' go climbin' down er rope wha' don'
lead nowhar, 'cep' to er tickly egg-shell wha' done copsize de berry
instink he tetch foot to um. No, sah, gen'l'men; ole Quor'm too smart
fo' dat."
"Well, then, sit in the canoe where she is, and we'll lower you down in
her."
To this plan the old man was finally induced to agree, and with great
trepidation seated himself in the frail craft. The moment the men
began to sway away on the falls, he would have jumped out if he could.
As he was already swinging in mid-air, it was too late to do aught
save remain where he was. Clutching the sides of the cockpit tightly
with both hands, he closed up his eyes and resigned himself to his
fate. His face assumed an ashen tinge, and his lips moved as though
he were praying. He gave a convulsive start as the canoe dropped into
the water, but he did not open his eyes nor relax his clutch of the
coamings.
"Come, Quorum, get out your paddle. I'll show you how to use it,"
shouted Worth, after he had cast off the falls.
But he might as well have addressed the light-house for all the notice
the old man took of him. Finally, realizing that Quorum was utterly
helpless, and incapable of action, from fright, Worth took the _Psyche_
in tow, and paddling out from the light-house, bade the friendly
keepers a cheery good-bye, and started on his laborious trip to Indian
Key.
Although the sea was perfectly smooth, paddling two deeply laden canoes
proved heavy work for one person, and Worth would have doubtless become
exhausted long before reaching his destination had not a light breeze
sprung up at sunrise. Aided by this, he made such good progress that in
less than an hour he was rounding the point of Indian Key, behind which
the _Transit_ lay at anchor.
Sumner, who had just turned out, was gazing wistfully back at Lignum
Vitæ, as though it still held the young comrade whose loss caused him
to feel so depressed, when he started as though he had been shot, at
the sound of his own name, uttered with a joyous shout but a short
distance from him.
[Illustration: QUORUM RESIGNS HIMSELF TO FATE.]
He could hardly credit his senses, or believe that he saw, sailing
merrily towards him, the long-lost canoes, bearing the very friends
on whose account he had been so anxious but a moment before. At the
same time Worth was equally bewildered and overcome with joyful
emotions.
"Hurrah! Glory hallelujah!" shouted Sumner, in the fulness of rejoicing.
At this sound Quorum started as though from a trance, and opened his
eyes for the first time since leaving the light. Whether he tumbled out
of the canoe accidently or on purpose, no one, not even himself, ever
found out; but the next instant he was in the water, puffing like a
porpoise, and swimming towards the land. Fortunately the distance was
short, so that in a few minutes he reached the rocks and pulled himself
out on them. There, scrambling to his feet, and with the water pouring
from him, he shook his fist at the craft he had so unceremoniously
deserted, exclaiming:
"Dat's de fustes an' de lastes time ole Quor'm ebber go sailin' in er
baby cradle! Yes, sah, de fustes an' de lastes!"