"I reckon you're right, Sammy," Uncle Zenas said with a sigh, "an' yet if yonder vessel is of any size, I can't make out why she should be near this ledge, unless it was a case of huntin' for something." And as the crew of the light-house thus discussed the possibility that the signals of distress might have a terrible meaning for the lad whom they had learned to love so well, the new day came slowly, revealing a wind-lashed sea which rolled angrily over the ledge as if striving to compass the destruction of the tower, while a dense veil of fleecy particles, blown into wreaths and clouds by the gale, enveloped the light-house as by a fog. Captain Eph extinguished the beacon light, and as he did so it seemed to Sidney that in some way the light keepers had deserted those who were battling for life amid the icy waters. "The light can do the poor creatures no good, Sonny," the old keeper said as if he read the thought in the boy's mind, "for since daybreak they couldn't even see the reflection of it on the snow." "And you haven't been able to so much as think how we might help them?" Sidney asked in tremulous tones. "Look down on the ledge, Sonny, an' say whether, even if it was possible to lend a hand, we could get outside?" Captain Eph replied as he pointed to the window, and after the lad obeyed he drew back with a faint cry of terror. The sea so entirely covered the rocks that nothing could be seen save the huge waves which broke into foam as they rolled over the ledge, or beat against the tower with a thunderous roar. "I can't even see the boat-house!" he said at length, and the old keeper replied: "No, Sonny, there's little chance of that at this time of the tide while the wind comes with sich force from the east'ard." "And my boat?" "I reckon you may as well count that gone, for she wasn't built to stand sich poundin' as she's been gettin' this last hour. Don't feel bad, Sonny, for the best craft that was ever launched ain't of much account as compared with a single human life. When the tide goes down we may be able to get outside, if so be there's anything to be done; but I've known of our bein' shut in here by the sea a full week, with only now an' then a glimpse of the ledge." Then it was that the boom of the gun could be heard, for the first time since the day broke, and Captain Eph said in a voice tremulous with emotion: "They're still alive, Sonny, an' their vessel is holdin' together, else it wouldn't have been possible for 'em to fire the gun; but I ain't certain as we should be thankful for it, 'cause it only means that they'll be the longer comin' to the end." "And you don't think there is any hope for them?" "I can't see where it'll come from, Sonny. Only the One who 'holds the waters in the hollow of His hand' can help 'em now," and, flinging his arm around the boy's shoulder, the old keeper prayed fervently that those who were in such sore distress might be comforted and upheld in their time of trouble.