The Light Keepers Part 31

NURSES AND LIGHT KEEPERS.

At that moment Sidney was thinking of what had just taken place, rather than of what they might or might not be able to do in the future, and the most perplexing part of it was the sudden and complete recovery of Mr. Peters.

He could understand that the first a.s.sistant might have been so excited by the disasters in the kitchen as to be able to do what, under almost any other circ.u.mstances, would have been absolutely impossible; but in such case a reaction should have set in after the danger had pa.s.sed, when the patient would be in a far worse bodily condition than before.

If Mr. Peters had collapsed immediately Captain Eph's needs were supplied, Sidney would not have been surprised; in fact, he would have looked upon it as the most natural thing possible. But the first a.s.sistant showed no signs of weakening even now when they were absent from the scene of the accident; he appeared to be in as good bodily condition as ever, and the lad was so very curious regarding the situation that he asked abruptly:

"How did it happen, Mr. Peters, that you got well so quickly? We all thought there was danger you might die."

"It does seem kind'er queer, don't it?" and the first a.s.sistant rubbed the tip of his nose reflectively with the buff-skin. "Wa'al now, Sonny, I'd like mighty well to tell you jest how it happened; but I don't rightly know all the pertic'lars myself, although I can let in a little light if you'll promise never to tell a livin' soul."

"Of course I wouldn't tell anything which you wanted kept secret,"

Sidney replied.

"That's a promise, is it?" Mr. Peters asked sharply.

"Of course it is; but if it's so very much of a secret, there's no reason why you should tell me. I was only wondering how you got well so quickly, and it won't do any harm if I don't know."

"But I'd rather tell you, Sonny, though I'd feel mortally bad if Cap'n Eph or Uncle Zenas heard about it, because I'm ashamed of a part," Mr.

Peters said seriously, and Sidney looked at him in surprise, failing to understand why so much of an introduction was necessary to the answering of a simple question.

"It isn't any of my business, you know, and perhaps you'd better not say any more," Sidney began, but Mr. Peters interrupted him as he softly closed the door in the floor of the lantern.

"I'm goin' to tell you the whole story, Sonny, an' it shall be a secret 'twixt you an' me. In the first place I was chafin' under the collar a good bit when I left here to go to the wreck, after Uncle Zenas had declared I shouldn't have a bite to eat till breakfast was ready. It didn't seem jest the thing for him to make me go hungry because he was set against my savin' what I could from the _Nautilus_, an' I'll leave it to you if I wasn't right?"

"He might have let you have some of the food that was already cooked,"

Sidney replied guardedly, not disposed to find serious fault with the cook while he was in such distress.

"Wa'al, he declared I shouldn't have the least little crumb, an' off I started on work that was as much for his benefit as my own. When I got aboard the wreck I found it was goin' to be possible to get away with a good deal more'n could be loaded into the dory, so I built a raft, an'

Sonny dear, I had timber an' ropes there that would have done your heart good to see! Of course it wasn't a great while before I found out that we was likely to have a storm, an' I jest threw the stuff together in the hope of gettin' back to the ledge before the wind got too high."

"Then you did start with the raft just as Captain Eph believed?"

"Yes, I started, Sonny, but hadn't got very far before I saw that I was likely to lose some of my load unless it was looked after, so I ran the bow of the dory up on the lumber, an' got out to make the heaviest timbers fast. I reckon that in movin' 'round I tilted the side of the raft down so the boat slipped off; but she was twenty yards away before I knew what had happened. Of course I didn't suppose that the man would come after the motor so soon, an' allowed that my only chance of ever seein' Carys' Ledge agin was to catch the dory.

"Over I went without stoppin' to think that the wind would shove her along faster'n I could swim; but it wasn't a great while before I found that much out. Then I started back for the raft, an' mighty hard work I had to reach her. When, after bein' a good half-hour in the cold water, I climbed up on the timbers, you'd better believe I was in bad shape, an' jest about as near crazy as I ever shall be till they lug me off to some asylum."

"I wonder that you wasn't frozen," Sidney said sympathetically, as Mr.

Peters ceased speaking for a moment.

"Frozen? I was so cold, Sonny, that I couldn't tell you what my name was, an' layin' there on the timbers with the wind blowin' half a gale didn't tend to make me any warmer. After a while, though, I got to understand that I'd die for sure if somethin' wasn't done, because I counted help couldn't come till I'd drifted ash.o.r.e, an' that mightn't be much before mornin'. Wa'al, as I figgered it, thinkin' you folks on the ledge couldn't come out to help me owin' to your not havin' a boat, my only chance was to work the raft in toward the sh.o.r.e faster'n the wind was carryin' her."

"But how could you do that without oars, sir?" and Sidney was literally trembling with suppressed excitement, as he imagined himself in Mr.

Peters' position.

"I had lumber enough to make a hundred oars, but no tools with which to put 'em in shape. I got out a piece of plankin', usin' my foot as a thole-pin, an' in that way got the raft workin' more favorably in the wind; but I couldn't raise the plank high enough out of the water. A big wave caught the outer end, an' then I got sich a clip on the stomach as knocked me silly. It looked as if I was pretty nigh my last gasp, an'

jest then a sea swept me clean off the timbers. It's a solemn fact, Sonny, that I don't have any idee how I got back to the raft. The next thing I realized, was when Cap'n Eph an' Uncle Zenas brought me inter the tower. But now comes the mean part of it."

Mr. Peters paused, and Sidney would have spoken, but that the first a.s.sistant checked him with a gesture, as he said sharply:

"Don't say a word, Sonny, or my courage won't hold out to tell the whole of the story. Until about midnight I wasn't more'n half sensible of what was goin' on; but after then I could have got up an' gone to work jest as well as I can now, though I felt a bit lazy, an' considerable tired.

I was jest mean enough to lay there in bed an' let you three stay on watch all night, when there was nothin' to prevent my doin' a full share of the duty."

"But why didn't you get up?" Sidney asked in surprise.

"Because I was so all-fired mean, Sonny, that is the reason. I saw that Uncle Zenas was worryin' a good deal about me, an' made up my mind to give him a good dose, so the next time I wanted to start away early he wouldn't dare to say I shouldn't have breakfast till it was ready for all hands. I fixed it with myself that I'd get up sometime this mornin', an' had jest begun to come 'round gradual-like, when the trouble happened, an' 'twixt you an' me, Sonny, I'm to blame for the whole thing. All I ask now is, that I may live long enough to kind'er square up with Cap'n Eph an' Uncle Zenas for my meanness."

Sidney was at a loss for words when the first a.s.sistant paused as if expecting him to make some comment, and during five minutes or more the two worked in silence. Then Mr. Peters said, as he gave the finis.h.i.+ng touches to the lens:

"I reckon it would take a mighty smart man to say that there'd been any smoke in this 'ere lantern, an' now we'd better go down to see what the poor fellows are needin'. I don't expect, Sonny, that you'll ever think of me as anything except the meanest critter that ever walked the face of the earth; but I'm askin' that you won't show it before the others.

Life wouldn't be worth the livin', if they should know what I'd done."

"Of course you couldn't have an idea that any accident would happen because of your staying in bed as you did, and so I don't think you're as much to blame as you make out," Sidney said earnestly. "You needn't worry that I'll ever tell Captain Eph or Uncle Zenas what you've said; but if they knew the whole story, I'm certain neither of them would look at it as you do."

"Is that the truth, Sonny, or are you sayin' it to make me feel a little better?" Mr. Peters asked eagerly, and Sidney a.s.sured him again and again that he had said no more than he really believed.

"I'll hope you're right, Sonny; but at the same time I shall never be able to see my face in a lookin' gla.s.s agin without callin' myself hard names," Mr. Peters said with a sigh, and then he led the way down-stairs.

When they reached the kitchen it was to find Uncle Zenas in greater pain than when they went into the lantern, and Captain Eph explained that it was to be expected he would suffer more each hour until the heat had been drawn from the burns by the potato poultice.

"He'll have a mighty hard time of it for two or three days, an' then, unless he's been burned worse'n we think, there'll be a change for the better," Captain Eph said in conclusion, and Sidney asked how he was feeling.

The keeper drew aside the bandages to show the swollen and rapidly-discoloring flesh, after which he said:

"Knowin' that it's nothin' worse'n a bad sprain, an' will come 'round all right after a spell, I wouldn't allow that I'd got it so awful hard if we hadn't the light to look after, an' how's that to be done?"

"Now don't fret over that a little bit, Cap'n Eph," Mr. Peters cried imploringly. "It wouldn't hurt me any if I stood watch every night till you an' Uncle Zenas got 'round agin; but Sonny has shown that he can look after the light as well as either of us, an' he an' I will run things slick as grease. He can go on watch till midnight, an' I'll take the rest of the time, doin' all the cleanin' alone."

"I shall do my full share of the work," Sidney cried decidedly, "and be right glad of the chance to pay you off for having been so good to me!"

"But what about the cookin'?" Uncle Zenas groaned. "Somebody must get the meals an' keep the kitchen cleared up."

"I can make coffee, and boil potatoes," Sidney replied promptly.

"Perhaps, if you'd tell me how, I could do a good deal more. Any way, it would be a pretty poor kind of a boy who couldn't wash dishes and sweep the floor, and it seems as if we ought to get along in great shape."

"You're countin' on doin' too much, Sonny; but perhaps, if Sammy takes all the care of the light, with you to stand watch the first part of the night, you might make quite a fist at runnin' things down here, 'specially since Uncle Zenas an' me will have to stay right where we can show you how to do this or that," Captain Eph replied, and Sidney cried in surprise:

"Are you thinking of staying here in the kitchen all the time, sir?"

"What else can we do, Sonny?" the keeper asked grimly. "Even if Uncle Zenas was in condition to be moved, which he ain't, do you think you an'

Sammy could get him up-stairs? You might as well try to lug an elephant, as him. An' the same holds good in my case. I wouldn't put my foot down on the floor, to step any part of my weight on it, for the best hundred dollars I ever heard tell about, an' you two couldn't carry me half-way to my room. I've been thinkin' it all out, an' can't see any other course than for Uncle Zenas an' me to stay where we are."

"If you've got to turn the kitchen inter a hospital, why wouldn't it be a good idee for me to bring the beds down here?" Mr. Peters asked eagerly. "It won't be any hard job, an' I'll get at it right away."

"You sha'n't do anything of the kind, Sammy," and Captain Eph spoke in a decisive tone. "You ought'er be in bed yourself this very minute, an'

you'd never been able to leave it if you hadn't got all worked up over our gettin' hurt. You've got a kind heart, Sammy, an' mustn't be allowed to trifle with your poor, weak body."

A deep flush of shame overspread Mr. Peters' face, and Sidney really pitied him. Such was the punishment to which he must submit in silence because of the deception he had practiced.