“They are twice the size of your body, Kate,” said Sanford, laughing. “They may look to you like knitting-needles from this distance, but that is because everything around them is on so large a scale. You wouldn’t think that shanty which looks like a coal-bin could accommodate twenty men and their stores.” As Sanford ceased speaking, the major turned quickly, entered the pilot-house, and almost instantly reappeared with the yacht’s spyglass. This he carefully adjusted, resting the end on the ratlines. “Victory is ours,” he said slowly, closing the glass. “I haven’t a doubt about the result.” CHAPTER XXI THE RECORD OF NICKLES, THE COOK The yacht and the lighthouse tender were not the only boats bound for the Ledge. The Screamer, under charge of a tug,—her sails would have been useless in the still air,—was already clear of Keyport Light, and heading for the landing-wharf a mile away. Captain Bob Brandt held the tiller, and Captain Joe and Caleb leaned out of the windows of the pilot-house of the towing tug. They wanted to be there to see if Carleton “played any monkey tricks,” to quote Captain Brandt. None of them had had cause to entertain a friendly spirit toward the superintendent. It had often been difficult for Caleb to keep his hands from Carleton’s throat since his experience with him under the willows. As for Captain Brandt, he still remembered the day the level was set, when Carleton had virtually given him the lie. The Screamer arrived first; she made fast to the now completed dock, and the tug dropped back in the eddy. Then the lighthouse tender came alongside and hooked a line around the Screamer’s deck-cleats. The yacht came last, lying outside the others. This made it necessary for the passengers aboard the yacht to cross the deck of the tender, and for those of both the yacht and the tender to cross the deck of the Screamer, before stepping upon the completed masonry of the lighthouse itself. Nothing could have suited Mrs. Leroy better than this enforced intermingling of guests and visitors. The interchanges of courtesy established at once a cordiality which augured well for the day’s outcome and added another touch of sunshine to its happiness, and so she relaxed none of her efforts to propitiate the gods. It is worthy of note that Carleton played no part in the joyous programme of the day. He sprang ashore as soon as the tender made fast to the Screamer’s side (he had met the party of engineers at the railroad depot, and had gone with them to Little Gull Light,—their first stopping-place), and began at once his work of “superintending” with a vigor and alertness never seen in him before, and, to quote Nickles, the cook, who was watching the whole performance from the shanty window, “with more airs than a Noank goat with a hoop-skirt.”