That dinner was one of the best the lads had ever eaten, it seemed to them. Indeed, Jack forgot about the howling of the wind and the spattering of the rain outside, and Ray even ceased talking of his precious model, so intent were they both on satisfying their ravenous appetites. There were sizzling hot flounders, the finest flapjacks that ever were cooked, cold boiled lobster, fine homemade bread, steaming coffee and a generous apple pie, which Jack assured the lobsterman was quite the best of its kind he had ever tasted.

“The finest flapjacks that ever were cooked.”

The old seaman took as much pride in his cooking as any housewife and it pleased him to watch the lads “git a full cargo,” as he expressed it. In fact, he urged them to eat more, even after they had announced that they could not possibly hold another morsel, and finally[215] the boys simply had to push back their chairs and cry “enough.”

It was fully half-past three when the dishes were cleared away and washed, and by that time the storm outside had worked up to a furious pitch. The wind whistled about the little cottage and down the chimney, blowing great quantities of smoke into the room from the wood fire that Mitchell kept burning to heat his dish water. The rain was coming down harder now, and spattering against the window panes so furiously that Jack had difficulty in seeing out across the cove in which the Betsy Anne and Mitchell’s dories were moored.

“Say, Ray, this is a real storm,” he said to his young chum. “How on earth are we to get back to the lighthouse? We can’t go by way of the Betsy Anne. I’d never take a chance in any boat to-day no matter how seaworthy she is.”

“Right an’ so, right an’ so, lad,” said the old lobsterman as he took a squint at the weather through the front window. “An’ ’e needn’t be a fearin’ as I’d ask ’e to. Hit ud take a ’ull lot of coaxin’ for t’ git me t’ take t’ Betsy Hanne hout hin weather like this ’ere even[216] though she’s t’ safest boat fer ’er size as ever was. But must ’e go back t’day? Can’t ’e stiy ’ere for t’ night, mebby?”

“Goodness, no. You remember how we got a scolding for staying away over night at Austin’s Pool, don’t you, Ray? Poor Mr. Warner and Big O’Brien were worried to death. Thought we’d been drowned, sure enough. And he saw us go out in a sailboat this morning too. Jiminy, I’ll bet they think we were caught in this storm. They will sure decide we are goners, if we don’t show up to-night. We must get to the lighthouse, Ray. Don’t you agree with me?”

“Yes,” said Ray firmly, “Mr. Warner has been mighty good to both of us and I don’t think we should cause him any more worry than necessary. I was sorry that we made it so unpleasant by staying at Frenchman’s Point last time. We must get back to the lighthouse. We can walk across the island. I don’t mind getting wet, do you? That’s about the worst that can happen to us.”

“Jest so, jest so,” said Mitchell with a pleased smile. “I think as ’ow yer two boys ’as got common sense and a bit o’ feelin’ fer t’ other[217] feller. Glad t’ ’ear ye speak es ye do. Go, by hall means, an’ hif ye’ll take my advice ye’ll start mighty soon fer there’s no tellin’ as t’ ’ow long hit’ll tike ’e. An’ hif ye’re hout there when night comes on—well hin t’ dark ye might stumble over a cliff peraps er—er—. Say, look ’ere, lads, I’ll go along wi’ ye. I don’t mind gettin’ wet an’ besides I got ’ilers an’ a so’wester. I’ll go long wi’ ye t’ show ’e t’ wi, seein’ as ’ow ye never walked crost t’ hisland yit.”

“Great,” cried Jack.

“Finest ever,” said Ray, and the old seaman looked delighted at their manifestations of pleasure.

“Hall right, me ’arties, we’ll start right awiy. You lads, just wait till I git on me ilers an’ I’ll go out hin t’ boat ’ouse an’ look hup some old duds as I got stowed awi there agin jist sech an adwersity.” And presently the lobsterman donned his oilskins and plunged out into the storm.

A few moments later he stumped into the room again, puffing like a grampus and dripping wet. In his arms he clutched a bundle of weatherworn oilskins.

[218]

“Phew, blime ’e hif hit ain’t rainin’,” said he as he deposited the bundle of clothing on the floor. “’Ere’s a lot o’ cast-hoffs as I’ve ’ad a ’angin’ hin t’ boat ’ouse fer this long time. Some o’ ’em is putty much worn, but they’ll shed water in spots henywi’. Sort ’em hout, lads.”

Jack and Ray began rummaging through the bundle of yellowish gray garments and in no time they were decked out in weatherproof clothes. Of course they wore their regular clothing underneath, as did Old Mitchell, but even at that the lobsterman’s cast-offs were far too large for them.

“Some fit,” said Jack as he waved a far too long sleeve in the air.

“Huh, two of us could get into this jacket, but just the same I’m glad to have ’em. I’m ready to start—how about you?” said Ray, as he gathered his precious model up under his arms and started for the door. Jack followed him and the lobsterman, after a glance about the cottage and a last poke at the dying fire in the stove, followed the two boys.

The moment they emerged, the lads had to brace themselves to keep from being blown[219] down. The wind swooped around the corner of the little cottage and tore at their garments madly, while the big raindrops beat into their faces.

“Jiminy, some storm”, growled Ray as he forced his so’wester down over his eyes.

“Hit’s blowin’ some ’at,” assured the lobsterman as he pulled his collar up higher and stumped forward in the lead of the little party.

Jack was on the point of making an appropriate remark also, but the wind snatched the words from between his teeth, it seemed, and he decided after that to conserve his energies for the fight against the storm.

Mitchell apparently followed some sort of a path through the forest that clad the top of the island, for he wound his way in and out among the trees in a peculiar manner. But if there was a path, the boys could not detect it. All they did was follow the one-legged old man who silently fought his way against the wind. Although the pine trees were many and their foliage thick, the wind seemed just as strong in the woods as out in the little opening around the lobsterman’s cottage. It blew a veritable[220] hurricane, it seemed to Jack, and the tall trees bent and swayed in a most awe-inspiring manner. In truth, branches were literally torn from some of them and here and there the lads found a big timber that had been uprooted and flung aside by the elements exactly as if it had been no heavier than a clump of bay berry bushes.

On through this wind-lashed forest they plodded, watching constantly to keep out of harm’s way for they realized that to be in the path of one of the falling trees would be the end of them. On and on they forced their way, backs bent and faces shielded as much as possible against the stinging rain. Minutes seemed like hours and hours eternal, so slow was their progress. How long they fought the elements the boys could not guess, but gradually as they worked their way across the island a new note was added to the terrible growl of the storm and it gave the lads a better idea of their location. It was the boom of the breakers upon Cobra Reef.

They were nearing the ocean side of the island now. Jack began to detect familiar sections of the woods, in spite of the storm. He[221] also knew that they were approaching the top of the promontory upon which the lighthouse was located, for they had begun to climb a rather steep slope. On they toiled, their way growing harder as they advanced, until suddenly they were struck by a gust of wind that almost hurled them off their feet. Then Jack knew that they had left the forest and entered the clearing about the construction camp.

Past the blacksmith shop and the bunk-house they trudged, until they came to the long mess-hall. Along the lee wall of this building they made their way until they came to the path that led to the lighthouse. Here they paused and before leaving the shelter of the building, took a survey of the situation.

And as Jack looked toward the beacon he caught sight of a big group of men huddled in the shelter of the pile of granite blocks near the steel tower of the cable-way. There must have been fifty or more in the crowd and all were dressed in oilskins or overcoats.

“Look, there’s the whole camp. What’s wrong? What’s going on out there? Something’s happened on the rock, I’ll bet. They are looking out to sea!”

[222]

“Sure enough. What do you suppose is the matter?” exclaimed Ray, as he too caught sight of the men.

“Matter! matter! Why noo, lad, hit could be something wrong on Cobra ’Ead, but t’ my judgment hits like as not a wessel what’s comin’ ashore, like es ’ow t’ schooner Jessie Joy did two years back. She came ashore down t’ sow’east hend o’ t’ hisland an’ was lifted ower t’ reef an’ thirty feet hup onto t’ rocks an’ smashed t’ kindlin’ afore ’e could say scat. Yes-siree, not a man ner a stick as was saved an’—”

“Jiminy, do you suppose it’s a wreck?” shouted Jack. Then pulling his hat down over his eyes he shouted:

“Come on!”

And in a moment all three were fighting their way up the slope toward the men in th............