There had been an extra Mass at the little church at Beach Cliff on the morning of the storm. Father Tom Rayburn, an old classmate of the pastor's, had arrived, and been welcomed most cordially.
"I'm off to an old camping ground of mine--Killykinick," he had explained to his host as they sat together at breakfast. "One of our Brothers is there with some of St. Andrew's boys, and my own little nephew is among them."
"Ah, yes, I know!" was the reply. "They come every Sunday to the late Mass. And, by the way, if you are going out into those ocean 'wilds,' you could save a busy man some trouble by stopping at the Life-Saving Station (it's not far out of the way, as I suppose you'll take a sail or a motor boat); and I promised two of those sturdy fellows who are groping for the Truth some reading matter. I thought a friendly talk at the same time would not be amiss. They have little chance for such things in their lonely lives. But my duties are quadrupled at this season, as you know."
"And the 'wilderness1' is in my line," said Father Tom. "Of course I'll be glad to stop. I used to haunt the Life-Saving Station when I was a boy; and I should like to see it again, especially when I can do a little missionary2 work on the side," he laughed cheerily.
And so it had happened that while Dan and Freddy were hauling in their lines and delivering breakfasts along the shore, one of the trig motors from the Boat Club was bearing a tall, broad-shouldered passenger, bronzed by sun and storm, to the Life-Saving Station, whose long, low buildings stood on a desolate3 spit of sand that jutted4 out into the sea beyond Shelter Cove5. It was Uncle Sam's farthest outpost. The Stars and Stripes floating from its flagstaff told of his watchful6 care of this perilous7 stretch of shore that his sturdy sons paced by day and night, alert to any cry for help, any sign of danger.
Father Tom, whose own life work lay in some such lines, met the Life-Savers with a warm, cordial sympathy that made his visit a most pleasant one. He was ready to listen as well as talk. But Blake and Ford8, whom he had come especially to see, were on duty up the shore, and would not be back for more than two hours.
"I'll wait for them," said Father Tom, who never let a wandering sheep, that hook or crook9 could hold, escape his shepherd's care; and he settled down for a longer chat of his own wild and woolly West, which his hearers watching with trained eyes the black line in the horizon, were too polite in their own simple way to interrupt. Their guest was in the midst of a description of the Mohave Desert, where he had nearly left his bones to bleach11 two years ago, when his boatman came hurriedly up with a request of speedy shelter for his little craft.
"There's a storm coming up I daren't face, sir," he said. "We can't make Killykinick until it blows over. You'll have to stay another hour or two here."
"All right, if our good friends will keep us," was the cheery response. "We are not travelling on schedule time."
And then Father Tom looked on with keen interest as the sturdy life-savers made ready for the swift-coming tempest that was very soon upon them, bringing Blake and Ford back, breathless and drenched12, to report their observations along the beach,--that there was nothing in sight: everything had scudded13 to shelter. So all gathered in the lookout14, whose heavy leaded glass, set in a stone frame, defied the fury of the elements. And, thus sheltered, the group in Uncle Sam's outpost watched the sweep of the storm.
"It's a ripper!" said Blake, translating the more professional opinion of his mates to Father Tom. "But we ain't getting the worst of it here. These West Indianers travel narrow gauge15 tracks, and we're out of line. Killykinick is catching16 it bad. Shouldn't wonder if that stranded17 tub of the old Captain's would keel over altogether."
"You think they are in danger there?" asked Father Tom, anxiously.
"Oh, no! Thar's plenty of other shelter. Killykinick is rock-ribbed to stand till the day of doom18. George! I believe Last Island is going clean under!"
"Let her go!" came the keeper's bluff19 response. "Been nothing but a bramble bed these twenty years."
"Bramble bed or not, some fools are camping there," said Blake. "I've seen their dogs on the beach for the last three days; and there was a boat moored20 to the rocks this morning, and boys scrambling21 along the shore. The folks that are boxed up in town all winter run wild when they break loose here, and don't care where they go--"
"Hush22!" broke in the keeper, suddenly. "Push open the glass there, men, and listen! I think I heard a gun!"
They flung open the window at his word. Borne upon the wild sweep of the wind that rushed in upon them, there came again a sound they all knew,--the signal of distress23, the sharp call for help. It was their business to hear and heed24.
"A gun sure, and from Last Island!" said the keeper, briefly25. "There are fools there, as you say, Blake. Run out the lifeboat, my men! We must get them off. Both boats, for we don't know how many we have to care for."
"Both boats, sir?" hesitated Blake. "We're short-handed to-day, for Ford has a crippled arm that would be no good in this surf."
"I'll take his place," said Father Tom, eagerly. "I've shot the rapids with my Indian guides many a time. I'll take Ford's place."
"Think twice of it, sir," was Blake's warning. "You are risking your life."
"I know," was the brief answer. "That's my business as well as yours, my friends; so I'll take my chance."
"There talks a man!" said the keeper, heartily26. "Give him a sou'wester, and let him take his chances, as he asks, in Ford's place."
And, in briefer time than we can picture, the two lifeboats were swung out of their shelter in the very teeth of the driving gale27, and manned by their fearless crews, including Father Tom Rayburn, who, muffled28 in a huge sou'wester, took his place with the rest; and all pushed into the storm.
* * * * *
At Last Island all hope seemed gone.
"One last shot, my boy!" daddy had said, as the gun dropped from his shaking hand. "And no one has heard,--no one could hear in the roar of the storm."
"Oh, they could,--they could!" murmured Freddy. "God could make them hear, daddy,--make them hear and come to help us. And I think He will. I have prayed so hard that we might not be drowned here all alone in the storm. You pray, too, daddy,--oh, please pray!"
"I can not,--I dare not," was the hoarse30 answer.
"O daddy, yes you can,--you must! The waters are coming on us so fast, daddy,--so fast! Please try to pray with me. Our Lord made the winds and waves go down when He lived here on earth; He walked on the waters and they did not hurt Him. Oh, they are coming higher and higher on us, daddy! What shall we do?"
"Die," was the hoarse, fierce answer; "die here together, my boy,--my little boy! For me it is justice, judgment31; but, O my God, why should Thy curse fall on my boy,--my innocent boy?"
"O daddy, no! That isn't the way to pray. You mustn't say 'curse,' daddy. You must say: 'Have mercy, dear Lord; have mercy! Save me and my little boy. Send some one to help us.' Oh, I am trying not to be afraid, but I can't help it, daddy!"
"My boy,--my poor little boy! Climb, Freddy! Try to climb up on the roof--the broken shaft32! Leave me here, and try to climb, my boy! You may be safe for a while."
"O daddy, no, I can't climb and leave you," and Freddy clung piteously to his father's breast. "I'd rather die here with you, and God will take us both to heaven together. I haven't been a very good boy, I know; and maybe you haven't either; but if we are sorry He will let us come to Him in heaven--O dad, what is that?" Freddy's low tone changed to one of wild alarm. "What is it now,--what is it now?"
For the dogs, that had been crouching33 and cowering34 beside their master, suddenly started up, barking wildly, and dashed out into the rising waters; new sounds blended with the roar of the storm,--shouts, cries, voices.
"Here,--here!" daddy feebly essayed to answer. "Call to them, Freddy! It is help. God has heard your prayers. Call--call--call--loud as you can, my boy!"
But there was no need. Rex and Roy had already done the calling, the guiding. On they came, the sturdy rescuers, plunging35 waist-deep through the waters that were already breaking high on the beach and bramble growth, surging and swelling36 across the broken wall that had once guarded the Old Light, and lapping the low cabin floor. On the brave life-savers came, while Rex and Roy barked in mad welcome; and Freddy's clear, boyish cry, "Here,--here! Daddy and I are here!" pierced through the darkness and turmoil37 of the storm. On they came, strong and fearless,--God's angels surely, thought Freddy, though in strange mortal guise38. And one, whose muffling39 sou'wester had been flung loose in his eager haste, led all the rest.
"Here, my men,--here!" he cried, bursting into the ruined hut, where a little figure stood, white-faced, breathless, bewildered with the joy of his answered prayer. "They are here! God have mercy!" broke in reverent40 awe41 from his lips. "Freddy, Freddy,--my own little Freddy here!"
"Uncle Tom,--Uncle Tom!" And Freddy sobbed42 outright43 as he was clasped in those dear, strong arms, held tight to the loving heart. "How did God tell you where to come for me, dear Uncle Tom?--Daddy, daddy look up,--look up! It's Uncle Tom!"
And what daddy felt as he looked up into that old friend's face, what Uncle Tom felt as he looked down on the "derelict" that had drifted so far from him, no one can say; for there was no time for words or wonderment. Life-savers can not stop to think, much less to talk. Daddy was caught up by two or three big fellows, without any question, while Uncle Tom looked out for Freddy.
It was a fierce struggle, through surging waves and battering44 wind and beating rain, to the waiting lifeboats; but, held tight in those strong arms, pressed close to the true heart whose every pulse was a prayer, Freddy felt no fear. Even when the stout45 boat, fighting its way back to the other shore, tossed like a cork46 in the breakers, when the oar29 snapped in Blake's hand, when all around was foam47 and spray, in which earth and heaven seemed lost, Freddy, nestling in Uncle Tom's sou'wester, felt as if its rough, tarry folds were angel wings.
And so safety and shelter were reached at last. Father Tom gave his little drenched, shivering, white-faced boy into Ford's friendly care.
"Put him to bed somewhere, to get dry and warm."
"But daddy,--my own dear, lost daddy?"
"Leave him to me, my boy," said Uncle Tom, softly. "I'll take care of daddy. Leave him to me."
And then Ford, who, somewhere back of Cape10 Cod48, had a small boy of his own, proceeded to do his rough best for the little stranger. Freddy was dried, rubbed, and put into a flannel49 shirt some ten sizes too big for him, and given something hot and spicy50 to drink, and finally tumbled into a bunk51 with coarse but spotless sheets, and very rough but comfortable blankets, where in less than four minutes he was sound asleep, worn out, as even the pluckiest eleven-year-old boy would be, with the strain on his small body and brave young soul.
How long he slept, Freddy did not know; but it was long enough for the wind to lull52, the skies to brighten, the black clouds to break and scatter53 before the golden glory of the summer sun. The wide lookout window had been thrown open, and showed a glorious rainbow spanning the western sky. And there, on a pallet thrown hastily on the floor, lay daddy, very still and pale, with Uncle Tom kneeling beside him, holding his hand. An icy fear now clutched Freddy's heart at the sight. Reckless of the ten-sizes-too-big shirt trailing around him, he was out of his bunk with a jump to his father's side.
"Daddy, daddy!--O Uncle Tom, is daddy dead?"
And daddy's eyes opened at the words,--eyes that were no longer burning, but soft and dim with tears.
"Not dead, little Boy Blue! Daddy is alive again,--alive as he has not been for long, long years.--Tell him all, Tom. I am too weak. Tell him all. He'll be glad to hear it, I know."
But Father Tom only put his arm around the boy and drew him close to his side.
"Why should I?" he said, smiling into the upturned face. "We know quite enough for a little boy; don't we, Freddy,--that, like another wanderer from his Father's house, daddy was dead and is alive again, was lost and is found. And now get into some short clothes, if you can find them, and we'll go over to Killykinick in my little motor boat; for poor Brother Bart is in sad terror about you, I am sure."
Ah, in sad terror, indeed! It was a pale, shaken old man that stood on the beach at Killykinick, looking over the sea, and listening to the Captain, who was striving to find hope where he felt there was none.
"Looks as if the old cabin on Last Island might be holding together still. Dan and Neb are knocking a raft together, and if they can make it float they'll go over there and get the little lad off. And if they don't Padre" (the rough old voice trembled),--"if they don't, wal, you are sky pilot enough to know that the little chap has reached a better shore than this."
"Aye, aye, I know, Jeroboam!" was the hoarse, shaken answer. "God knows what is best for His little lamb. His holy will be done. But, O my laddie, my little laddie, why did I let you go from me into the darkness and storm, my little boy, my little boy?"
"Hooray! Hooray!" Wild shouts broke in upon the broken-hearted prayer, as Jim and Dud and Dan burst round the bend of the rocks. "Brother Bart, Brother Bart! Look what's coming, Brother Bart!"
And, turning his dim eyes where the boys pointed54, Brother Bart saw a little motor boat making its swift way over the still swelling waves. On it came, dancing in the sunlight arched by the rainbow, tossing and swaying to the pulse of the sea; and in the stern, enthusiastically waving the little signal flag that Ford had put into his hand to remember the life-savers, sat--
"Laddie!" burst from Brother Bart's lips, and he fell upon his knees in thanksgiving. "O God be praised and blessed for the sight! My laddie,--my own little laddie safe, safe,--my laddie coming back to me again!"
收听单词发音 |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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jutted
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| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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bleach
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| vt.使漂白；vi.变白；n.漂白剂 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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scudded
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| v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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distress
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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muffling
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| v.压抑，捂住( muffle的现在分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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reverent
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| adj.恭敬的，虔诚的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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cod
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| n.鳕鱼；v.愚弄；哄骗 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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