"The poor wretches who are firin' that 'ere gun with the idee that there may be some one near who can give 'em a hand." "Do you mean that there is a wreck?" the lad asked, speaking in a tone so low that none save the old keeper heard him. "Ay, Sonny. This ledge makes off to the east'ard near half a mile, an' the craft, whatever she may be, has struck there." "How can you tell without seeing her, sir?" Sidney asked, as if hoping to convince the keeper that he had made a mistake. "In the first place, she must be there because the wind brings to us the sound of her signal gun; she might be only half as far away on the other side, an' we couldn't hear anything, owin' to the gale." "She must be a large craft, else she wouldn't have a gun aboard," Mr. Peters suggested, and Uncle Zenas nodded in token that he was of the same opinion. "I can't make out why any craft should be hereabouts in an easterly blow," Captain Eph said with nervous impatience. "It seems to me that any half-careful skipper would have clawed off shore at sunset, unless he knew his way as I do this 'ere ledge!" "Don't you count on trying to do anything?" Sidney asked as the men moved nervously about the small room. "That's what makes it so tough, Sonny," Captain Eph said in a tearful tone. "There's nothin' we can do, but stay here an' think of the poor wretches who are facin' death." "Couldn't you go out in one of the boats, sir?" "Bless your dear heart, Sonny, it ain't possible! The dory is the better sea-boat of the two, an' we couldn't even launch her, to say nothin' of pullin' up into the teeth of the gale." "My boat doesn't need any pulling." "She wouldn't be more'n an eggshell in this sea. There's nothin' but a life-boat that could do the trick, an' the nearest station is a good fifteen miles away." Again the wind brought to them the boom of the gun, and Sidney covered his eyes with his hands as if to shut out the picture his fears had painted. Mr. Peters went swiftly from window to window, although knowing full well that nothing could be seen from either. Uncle Zenas walked from the door to the stove, and then back to the door as if questioning whether he should not open it, despite the fact that every now and then a wave would dash against it, while Captain Eph paced swiftly to and fro, stopping now and then to listen. "There ought'er be a fog signal with this 'ere light!" he cried angrily, and Uncle Zenas asked helplessly: "S'posen there was? It wouldn't help them poor fellows out any, an' I'm doubtin' if the best whistle that was ever made could have been heard a mile away to the east'ard." "There'd be some little comfort in blowin' it to tell the poor creeters we're here an' willin' to help 'em. If she's a square-rigged vessel, as I count she is, there's a chance of her holdin' together till mornin', an' we're got to sit with our hands folded, listenin' to their calls for help!"