"Of course you can't do anythin' of that kind. Cap'n Eph, no matter if Sonny's boat _is_ worth five or six times as much as the dory; but what about haulin' her up between the boat-house an' the tower? She'd be more sheltered there." "We couldn't do the job without callin' all hands, an' I don't feel as if I'd be doin' right to take any chances jest to save property. The sea is breakin' over the ledge already, an' the rocks remainin' out of water must be covered with snow an' ice. Go back to bed, Sammy, for, as you know full well, we've got no right to stick our noses outside this night. After daybreak, if she's still sound, we may be able to work somethin' for her safety." Mr. Peters disappeared without further remark, evidently realizing that the keeper was fully justified in refusing him permission to leave the tower at such a time, and Sidney said half to himself as he gazed through the window, trying to prevent the tremor of fear from being apparent: "It must be uncomfortable in a light-ship when the storm is so severe." "Uncomfortable, Sonny? There's where you get danger! We're snug as mice in here; but the poor fellows who keep a light-ship must have their hearts in their mouths at sich a time. In this 'ere report I found a little somethin' regardin' lights of that kind, which seemed to strike the spot. Here it is," and the keeper handed Sidney an open book, from which he read the following: "The purpose of a light-ship is to do the work of a light-house in a place where one is necessary, but where it has not been erected because of the great difficulty, not to say expense, of such a structure. To insure permanency of position is a matter of great difficulty. When moorings have been made too heavy to drag, chains have broken; when they have held, mooring-bitts have been torn out; when they have held, the ship has foundered at her anchors, or the cable has been slipped, and the ship has sought a harbor or gone to sea for safety." "Is there a light-ship near here, sir?" Sidney asked as he finished the reading. "One lays off to the east'ard about twenty miles. I've never seen her, because she hasn't been on the station more'n two years. I don't claim to be anything of a coward in seafarin' matters; but I never wanted any part of a light-ship in weather like this. Let's have a look around the lantern, lad. If a body don't feel jest right in mind, it's a good idee to move about a bit, instead of stayin' in one place listenin', for the wind does contrive to make some mighty queer noises." After assuring themselves the light was burning as it should, the two went down to the kitchen, at Captain Eph's suggestion, and there ate quite a hearty breakfast from that which remained of Uncle Zenas' feast. Then it was Sidney understood, even better than while they were in the watch-room, the danger which threatened the motor boat.