THE FURY OF THE STORM
The next day the boys went off again in spite of Mrs. Danvers' entreaties
to stay another night or two until the weather showed definite signs of
clearing up.
But the boys were decided--saying that since the mist had lifted they had
really no excuse for staying longer, and as Paul was evidently very
anxious to get to his father, Mrs. Danvers had nothing else to do but to
give in.
"It's true, the fog has lifted," she admitted, gazing up anxiously at an
overcast sky, "but after a calm like this we are sure to have a
storm--how much of one it's hard to tell. Well, go on. But promise me to
stay close to the mainland and to put in to shore if the weather man
looks too threatening."
The boys promised and the girls waved to them until _The Shelling_ was
only a tiny speck on the water. Then they turned rather sadly back toward
the Danvers' home.
"I feel as if somebody were dead or something," complained Vi, as they
neared the bungalow. "I don't know what's the matter with me."
"It's the weather, I guess," said Billie, feeling low in spirits
herself--a very unusual state for merry Billie. "We shall all feel better
when the sun comes out."
"If it ever does," said Laura, gloomily.
"It's got to," said Vi.
Half way home they saw Uncle Tom hurrying toward them with Robert Bruce
at his heels, and they wondered what the matter was.
"Hello!" he cried when he came within earshot. "I was just going to see
your dad, Connie. The boys haven't gone yet, have they?"
And when Connie said that they had he looked so grave that the girls were
frightened.
"Why, Uncle Tom, what's the matter?" asked Connie fearfully.
"Matter enough," said Uncle Tom, turning to scowl up at the overcast sky.
"It's as much as those youngsters' lives are worth for them to set out
to-day. Why, there's a storm on the way," and he fixed his eyes gravely
on the girls, "such as this old Maine coast hasn't seen for years. Why,
every captain who can read the signs is going to make straight for the
nearest port, or if he is too far away to make port before the storm
breaks, he's going to get down on his knees and pray the good Lord to
make his old ship staunch enough to stand the test. It will be upon us by
night." His eyes sought the wild dreary waste of water and he spoke as
though to himself. "Lord, how I dread to-night!"
"But, Uncle Tom, what can we do about the boys?" Connie shook his arm
fiercely. "Why, if we have the kind of storm you say they may be drowned!
Oh, can't we do something?"
Uncle Tom's eyes came back from the horizon and he shook his head slowly.
"I don't know that there's much we can do--now," he said. "If they have
any sense they'll put in to port before the storm breaks. That is if they
stick close in to shore."
"They said they would," Billie put in eagerly. "Oh, I hope they do!"
Uncle Tom nodded absently, for his mind seemed to be upon other things.
"Then they ought to be all right," he said, adding, while the lines
deepened about his mouth: "But Heaven help the ships that can't put into
shore to-night."
He turned slowly and strode away from them toward the lighthouse with
Bruce still following worshipfully after him. He had forgotten they were
there.
"Poor Uncle Tom!" said Connie, as they went slowly on toward the
bungalow. "He always gets so queer when there's a storm along the coast.
I guess it makes him think of--her."
* * * * *
It was night, and the storm had burst in all its fury. The four girls and
Connie's mother had gathered in the little front sitting room on the
second floor.
Mr. Danvers had started a few minutes before to press the button that
would flood the room with light, but Billie had begged him not to.
"I want to see the light in the tower," she had pleaded, adding softly:
"Somehow I'm not quite so afraid for the ships out there when I see the
light. Oh, listen to that wind!"
"I don't see how we can very well help it," said Vi, with a little shiver
and cuddling up close to Billie on the window seat and slipping a hand
into hers. "Oh--h!" and she clapped her hand to her ears as the wind rose
to a wailing scream and the windows all over the house shook and rattled
with the impact.
"I guess Uncle Tom was right," said Connie, from somewhere out of the
darkness. "Dad says, too, that this is the worst summer storm we have had
around these parts for years. Oh, I do hope the boys are safe somewhere
on shore."
"I don't think we need worry about them," said Mr. Danvers. Or rather he
started to say it, but at that moment the wind rose with insane fury,
bringing the rain with it in driving torrents that beat swishingly upon
the sand and drove viciously against the windows.
He waited for a moment until the wind died down. Then he began again.
"The storm was a long time in coming," he said. "The boys had plenty of
warning. Paul is very cautious, and I know he wouldn't go on in the face
of such danger. But," and he turned toward the window again, "heaven help
the ship that can't make port to-night."
"That's almost exactly what Uncle Tom said," remarked Connie, and then
there was silence in the little room again while outside the storm raged
and the light from the lighthouse tower sent its warning far out over the
foam-crested waves.
The girls went to bed at last. Not because they expected to sleep, but
because Connie's mother insisted.
"Poor Uncle Tom!" murmured Billie to herself as, in her little white
nightie, she stood at the window looking out toward the lighthouse tower.
"All alone out there. What was it he said? 'You think of the men and the
women and the little children out there on the sinking ships, and you
curse the storm that's bringing disaster along with it.' Poor, poor Uncle
Tom! I wonder if he _is_ thinking of--her."
And with a sigh she turned from the window and crept into bed beside
Connie.
Toward morning the girls were awakened from an uneasy sleep by a strange
white light flashed suddenly in their eyes. They stumbled out of bed,
dazed by the suddenness with which they had been awakened and stared out
into the black night.
"What was it?" gasped Billie. "Oh my, there it is again!"
"The searchlight," cried Connie, running over to the window, her eyes
wide with horror. "Billie, that's the signal to the life-savers. And
there goes the siren," she groaned, clapping her hands over her ears as
the moan of the siren rose wailingly into the night. "It's a wreck!
Billie--oh--oh!"
"A wreck!" cried a voice behind them, and they turned to see Laura in the
doorway with Vi peering fearfully over her shoulder. "Oh, girls, I was
just dreaming----"
"Never mind what you were dreaming," cried Billie, beginning to pull on
her clothes with trembling hands. "If it is a wreck, girls, we may be
able to do something to help. Oh, where is my other stocking? Did any one
see it? Never mind, here it is. Oh, hurry, girls; please, hurry."
Twice more while they were dressing the searchlight flashed round upon
the island, filling their rooms with that weird white light, and the
siren wailed incessantly its wild plea for help.
The girls were just pulling on their waterproof coats when Connie's
mother, white and trembling, appeared in the doorway and stared with
amazement at sight of them.
"I heard you talking, girls," she said, "and knew you were awake. I hoped
you would sleep through it."
"Sleep through _that_?" asked Connie, as the siren rose to a shriek and
then died off into a despairing moan. "Oh, Mother----"
"But what are you going to do, kiddies?" asked Mrs. Danvers, taking a
step toward them. "The life-savers will be coming soon--perhaps they are
at work now--and they will do all that can be done. Why are you putting
on your coats?"
"Oh, please, please don't make us stay at home," begged Billie, turning
an earnest, troubled face to Connie's mother. "We may not be able to do
anything to help, but we shall at least be there if we should be needed."
"Muddie, dear, we couldn't stay here, we just couldn't," added Connie,
and with a little choked cry Mrs. Danvers turned away.
"You darling, darling kiddies," she cried. "Run along then if you must.
Only," she stopped at the doorway to look earnestly back at them, "don't
go any farther than the lighthouse until Dad and I come. We'll be along
right away."
The girls ran down the stairs, and Connie opened the front door with
hands that fumbled nervously at the lock. As the door swung open the wind
sprang at them like a living thing, taking their breath, making them
stagger back into the hall.
"Th--that wind!" cried Laura, clenching her hands angrily. "I'd like to
kill it! Come on, girls."
Laura rushed out into the storm while the other girls followed, pulling
the door shut behind them.