Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1907-09-11

WIN ali his StrenStns the DOat-keep-
err bent to the oars. But his efforts
We're futile. Wind, waves. and tide,
his former allies, were now united in
a hostile coalition that he could not
overcome. He fought gamely, al.
though all the while conscious that
he was losing ground. He knew that
Zenas Horne was anxiously striving
to pick up his lantern glimmer; but
there was absolutely nothing the dory
man could do to make his position
known. He might split his throas
with shouting, but against the gale
his voice would not carry hundred
yards.
The fakes ceased, and the light
from the schooner frightened. She
was now some distance to the north
west. The green CLINT disappeared for
a moment. and was then replaced by
red; she was returning on the other
tack. Swiftly the single eye shot
across the wind.
Ding-dong! Ding.dong! Family
mile. to leeward changed the bell on
Grindstone Ledge. The melancholy
notes gave Eames an unpleasant
thrill. for they told how rapidly he
was drifting out into the Atlantic.
Hitherto he had felt no real doubt
about getting safe aboard at last.
| Now, as he saw how far to windward
the pilot-boat persisted in searching,
a chill not wholly from the January
night stole over him. What II Horne;
after vainly cruising back and forth,
should abandon his quest!
Ding-dong! Ding-dong! A little
nearer and louder. How fast he was
drifting! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ever
louder, ever nearer. pealed the melan-
choly bell. Horne had not given him
up yet. Far in the northeast the pilot
boat had tackled again, and the green
light still to windward!
Longingly following her course,
Eames spied, almost due east, three
glimmering points. like stars hung on
the corners Of an isosceles triangle,
yellow above, red and green below.
Familiar with the movements of coast
craft, the doryman felt sure that this
was the government buoy-tender, Pet
I, rel, returning to port from one of her
trips Of inspection. AS nearly as he
could judge, she was about three miles
of; 1t would be twelve or thirteen
minutes before she passed. There was
not one chance in twenty that she
would come near enough for him to
hail her. How could he attract her
attention?
On Eames's reply to this question
his life probably hung. He reviewed
all his sea-iore, gathered from twenty
years of plotting, and hit upon a
single feasible expedient, bold, novel,
desperate.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong! The boat
keeper swung his dory straight toward
.Grindstone Ledge. course exactly
opposite to that he had SO painfully
striven to hold. Wind and tide re-
enforced his powerful strokes as he
drove down on the changing pell. Soon
the buoy appeared, rocking white with
ice-glaze Beyond 1t the heavy surf
boiled over the black rocks.
Soon only few feet separated the
nose of the dory from the pitching
cylinder. Eames, now alert in the
stern with his steering-oar, held her
course true. Just as 1t seemed as IL
the Prov We're about to splinter on
the steel, splitting his craft from stern
to stern, he cave skilful twist. The
boa. shot by. At the same instant
he sprang forward, painter In hand;
and as the gunwale rubbed the icy
side, no leaped for one Of the bell sup
i ports.
He caught 1T with one hand asnthe
buoy rolled down. His fingers slip
ped. Clutching with his other hand,
he grasped the support. Just then
the dory painter twitched away, and
the boat was swept off into the gloom.
Games cared little that the loss of
his craft fastened him on the rock
ing buoy for better or worse. If his
| plan succeeded, he would not need
the boat. If it failed. nothing else
could save him. Close to his ear
swung the bell, almost deafening him
with its clangor.
| He looked northeast. The steamer
was coming on rapidly. The rushing
lights were due north. He could see
the bone" under her PROV. The mo-
ment had come.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding
The pilot had seized the ice-cold
tongue, and only the breakers doomed
on Grindstone Ledge,
Eames's sole hope was that to the
watch on board the Petrol The sill
ence of the bell would speak louder
than its sound. 1t was her duty to
care for all buoys. Grindstone Ledge
lay right off the channel in the path
of the big liners. 1t had a black rec
ord before the placing of the bell
4 Would not the men on the tender
seek the cause of this sudden silence?
1 Sweat-beads formed and froze on
the boat-keeper's face, as he watched
the steamer passing. He groaned in
despair.
Just then the boat slowed down and
lay painting. Out shot the pale, trem-
ulous beam of her search-light, until
the dazzling electric eye fell squarely
upon him. Soon a white boat came
rowing down the path of light. Ten
minutes later Eames was safe aboard
the Petrel.- Youths Companion.
LITTLE CARPENTERS.
Children Of Five and Six Make Artl-
ejes NJ Value "a Themsetvee