Rilla of the Lighthouse

  CHAPTER VII. THE HEART OF CAP'N EZRA.

  Meanwhile the three men in the dory had pushed away from the small wharfon Windy Island and had started rowing into the thick, almostimpenetrable blanket of fog, which, having swept in from the sea, hadsettled down over the inner harbor.

  They could hear the melancholy drawn-out wail of the foghorn which wasbeyond the Outer Ledge. The two longshoremen who were with the doctorrowed toward the faint glimmer of red light, which could hardly bedistinguished. In fact, there were times when the lights on the townwharf could not be seen at all, and once, when the roaring of the surfseemed nearer than it should be, they realized with sinking hearts thatthey had lost their bearings. Then it was that one of them uttered anexclamation of astonishment and alarm. "The big light!" he cried. "What'dye s'pose has happened to it? Look ye! 'Tisn't swingin' like it shouldbe. It's hittin' a course straight toward town."

  Doctor Winslow, at the rudder, turned and looked over his shoulder at thelooming black mass that was Windy Island. "Ezra is doing it to guide us,"he said, "but he's taking a big chance." Then a sudden cry of warning:"Starboard, hard! We almost ran head-on into that old buoy that hasn'tanchored a fishing smack since Jerry Mullet's boat went to the bottom."

  "The big light came jest in the nick o' time, I swan if it didn't," Lute,in the bow, declared, as with a powerful stroke, he turned the dory sothat it slipped past the buoy, barely scraping it.

  "Straight ahead now. Give the fleet a wide berth," the doctor called. Themen were pulling hard when one of them stopped rowing and listened. "DocWinslow," he said, "tarnation take it, if I didn't hear a ghost rightthen a-moanin' in that old hulk of Sam Peters'. Like's not it's a warningfor us of some kind."

  Being superstitious, the longshoreman was about to pull away harder thanbefore, when the doctor commanded: "Belay there! Hold your oars! That'snot a ghost. There's someone in that boat. More than likely it's old Samhimself having one of his periodical spells. He won't need help if it is,but I can't pass by without finding out what is wrong. Thank heaven thelight is steady, if all's well on the outer shoals."

  It took but a moment, the fog being illumined, for the dory to draw upalongside of the boat that belonged to the frequently intoxicatedfisherman Sam Peters. Not a sound did they hear as they made fast.

  "I reckon 'twa'n't nothin', arter all." Hank Walley was eager to returnto shore. "Like as not 'twa'n't."

  Doctor Winslow listened intently. He, too, was anxious to reach the homeport, knowing that, not until then, would his friend Captain Ezra startthe big light swinging on its seaward course; but he lingered one moment."What ho! Sam there?" he called. But there was no reply. The good doctorwas about to give the command "Shove off. Get under way," when the sharpeyes of the youngest man, Lute, noted a movement of some dark object hehad supposed was furled sail. Instantly he had leaped aboard the smack.Holding his lantern high, he uttered a cry that brought the doctor to hisside. "By time!" Lute shouted. "It's the boy himself, but if he ain'tdead, he's durn close to it."

  It was indeed Gene Beavers, who, after resting a while on the cask-likebuoy, had managed, with almost superhuman effort, to climb aboard the oldfishing boat. Then he had lost consciousness; in fact, his breathing wasso slight that the words of the longshoreman seemed about to befulfilled.

  The doctor did what he could to revive the lad; then wrapped him in anold sail cloth.

  Ten minutes later, Rilla, standing by the side of Captain Ezra at awindow in the tower, uttered a glad cry. "They're swingin' 'em,Grand-dad. They're swinging the two red lights! They've found him.They've found Gene Beavers."

  "God be thanked!" the old man said, as he started the big lamp turning onits usual course. The fog had lifted out at sea and he scanned the darkwaters anxiously, eagerly. It had been a tremendous chance that he hadtaken, and none but his Creator knew how constantly he had been prayingto the One who rules the sea that all might be well. It was a strangething for Captain Ezra to pray, but it seemed easier since hate had beenbanished from his heart. Muriel noticed a new expression in the face ofthe old man when, the next morning after breakfast, he said to her,beaming over his spectacles: "Put on yer Sunday riggin's, Rilly gal.You'n me air goin' to cruise over to Tunkett an' find out if that cityfellar is shipshape an' sailin' on even keel."

  The girl went around the table, and stooping, she pressed her warm youngcheek against the wrinkled, leathery forehead.

  The old man reached for her hand and held it in a firm clasp. Neitherspoke, but both knew that, at last, the hatred of many years had left theheart of Captain Ezra.