Uncle Zenas had come to the window by the side of Sidney, and the two could see the keepers as they shoved the dory out into the sea where it was comparatively calm because of being to the leeward of the ledge. Then both the men, heeding not the biting cold and the sleety snow, stripped off first their oil-skins, and afterward all superfluous clothing, until they stood in their shirtsleeves.
"What's that for?" Sidney asked excitedly. "They'll freeze to death!
"There'll be some little chance of their swimmin' ashore if they haven't got too many clothes on," Uncle Zenas replied mournfully, and then he raised his head quickly as the muffled report of the gun could be heard. "I'm proud of 'em, Sonny, proud of 'em! Talk about men being brave! I've wintered an' summered with them two, an' you can't find more courage in the same weight of human bein's than they've got!"
"But you believe they'll be drowned!" Sidney cried, striving to prevent his voice from trembling.
"There's nothin' we could say or do, Sonny, to prevent 'em from goin' an' we'll hope the good God will send 'em back to us, for I'd be a terrible lonesome, useless old man if them two were taken from me."
Uncle Zenas wiped the tears from his eyes as he strove to peer through the falling snow while the brave keepers leaped into the dory, after shoving her bow from the shore, and Sidney literally held his breath in suspense as the frail boat was tossed high up on the crest of a wave, only to be seemingly engulfed by the next.
"She'll be swamped before they can get around the ledge!" the lad cried in an agony of terror. "Oh, why did they go?"
"I ain't afraid but they'll keep her right side up for a spell, Sonny; but it's when they get anywhere near the wreck that the most dangerous part of the business will come in. Wouldn't you feel better if we went into the lantern? I don't reckon we can see any more there; but it'll seem as if we could."
For reply Sidney ran up the narrow staircase, Uncle Zenas following more rapidly than one would have supposed he could have moved, and when the two were in the lantern the shadowy forms of the keepers could be seen as they toiled at the oars in what seemed like a vain effort.
In a very few seconds the snow hid them completely from view, but yet the watchers stood with their faces pressed against the glass, picturing in their minds the dory and her brave crew as they saw them last.