It had just turned two. Suddenly one and all sat up in terror. There was a fearful crash--a rending and splitting, which was heard plainly above the weird howling of the hurricane. The men tumbled out of their bunks panic-stricken, and were about to stampede from their shelter to seek refuge upon a higher ledge. But Ballantyne’s pluck asserted itself. He, too, had been scared by the awful noise, but he collected his scattered wits more quickly than did his comrades. He grasped the situation, and with iron nerve commanded all the men to stick tightly where they were. An ugly rush seemed imminent, but he stood with his back to the door, and in plain English dared the men to leave their cover. Any man who attempted to fight his way to the upper refuge would be swept overboard by the wind and sea. The quarrymen were not cowards, and Ballantyne’s action steadied them. Then the foreman announced his intention to go out to see what had happened. He grabbed a storm-lantern and opened the door. Instantly he was hurled back by the wind and sea, which appeared to be submerging the rock. For two hours he stood waiting an opportunity to slip out against the hurricane. At last he succeeded, and in the intense darkness endeavoured to grope his way over the rock. He had been gone only a few minutes when he staggered back, battered, shaken, and almost exhausted. He could not make headway against the gale. So the men sat down and silently waited the approach of dawn. Then they found that the rushing waves had fallen upon the building in which all their supplies were stored, had smashed it to atoms, and had destroyed and carried away nearly all the provisions, the fresh-water tank, and other articles, although the requisites for work were left untouched. It was the break-up of this storehouse which had woke them from their slumbers and had provoked the panic. For ten days the gale raged, being more furious on some days than others. When it decreased in fury the men were able to settle to their work for an hour or two, but progress was painfully slow; on other days not a tool could be picked up. On the 18th the revenue cutter came out from Astoria to ascertain how the men had weathered the tornado, and the signal for coal and provisions was answered immediately by the lowering of a surf-boat. The sailors had a stiff pull to reach the rock, found that the men still had a scanty supply of hard bread, coffee, and bacon--this was all--and, taking off the letters, promised to send supplies immediately. The construction ship also came up; the captain sent ashore all the provisions he could spare, and undertook to return at once with a full supply. But another ten days passed before the sea went down enough to permit these to be landed, together with five more men. [Illustration: THE RACE ROCK LIGHT. It marks a dangerous reef in Long Island Sound, where, owing to the swift currents, construction of the foundations proved very difficult.]