"Now, if she continues to beat up this way and can claw off the Twin Rocks here, she might make the mouth of the bay in safety. Yep, I cal’late that is what Bob Pritchett is figgerin’ on doing. "He couldn’t make the breach at Lower Trillion. It’s too narrow. But if he can win past these reefs here and get into Clinkerport Bay, the _Nelly G._ will be as snug as a bug in a rug. That’s whatever!" The surges coming in over the reefs raised such a clamor now that Tobias knew his fears for a high sea would be realized. He touched off the lamp, early as was the hour, waited only to see that the wick burned evenly, and then started below again. As he went downstairs where the wind sounded less boisterously, the rush of the boiling surf up the strand and the sound of its retreat grew louder. He got into his slicker, buckled the throat-latch of his tarpaulin hat, and ventured out of doors once more. But he went no farther than the broad stone that lay before the door. Up past the lighthouse raced a waist-high roller, to lap over the road and drain away into the cattail swamp on the other side. Its retreat tore away a full line of Miss Heppy’s cockleshells that bordered the yard. Again the sea rolled in, and like a ravenous beast it tore and bit at the road’s edge, guttering and washing away the sand and hard-packed shell in great mouthfuls. "Dad fetch it!" ejaculated the worried lightkeeper. "I give it as my opinion that we’re going to be purt’ nigh surrounded by water afore this is over." The waves were rolling in across the sands between the Light and the Clay Head. The road to Clinkerport would soon be shut off completely. Tobias was aware that the door had been opened behind him. "Oh, Mr. Bassett! That wave! Look at it! Why—why, I can’t get home!" "Cal’late you’ll have to stay and throw in your lot with me and Heppy," he cheerfully rejoined. "But, sugar, Lorny! I guess the Twin Rocks Light will stand for a spell yet. We don’t need to worry." As he turned, smiling broadly, he saw that her face was haggard. Her eyelids were inflamed, and there were dark wales beneath the eyes. She looked at him pitifully. "No, no, Lorny," he repeated, "we don’t need to worry." She gestured seaward. Her voice shook with emotion. "But how about those out there, Tobias?" she whispered. "The schooner! What about her?" CHAPTER XXVII WHAT THE NIGHT BROUGHT Hour after hour the billows rolled in over the barrier of the Twin Rocks reefs and guttered the sands and the highway beyond until the sea finally breached through the shell road and spread, waist high, upon the lowlands. No such unseasonable tide had ever before been marked by the natives of the Cape. Even the "great tide of ninety-eight" had not reached this high mark.