The Iola Register

CAUGHT BY THE ICE
By Charles H. Heustis.

It was the coldest kind of weather. The shores of Long Island and Connecticut were covered with snow. The bays and inlets were filled with ice. Broken by the rise and fall of the tide, it made great windrows along the beach and choked the mouths of the streams. Even Long Island sound was filled with immense cakes of floating ice, until navigation was seriously impeded.

Rarely had the captains of coasters, who were familiar with the sound, experienced such a continued cold snap. They rubbed their tingling ears and blew upon their frost-bitten fingers as they kept a lookout for the icy obstructions.

The freezing weather played fantastic tricks upon the vessels. Wherever a drop of water struck it congealed. Cordage and standing rigging, were covered with a coating of crystal, very beautiful to look at but dangerous to the mariners. Even the great passenger steamers that ran between New York and Stonington, Fall River and Newport plowed along looking like huge icebergs. Their pilots kept a sharper watch than usual upon the lights along shore and kept their ears open for danger signals.

One of the most dangerous points along the entire sound was a reef of rocks making out from the Connecticut coast. At the very end stood a lighthouse, built upon iron piles driven into the hard ledge. At low water the reef was exposed, but at high tide it was completely covered. Like a giant sentry the tower stood out of the water, appearing for all the world as if it rested on nothing more substantial than the waves which washed its base.

The tall pile of granite was a dismal sight from sea or shore, but in reality it was cozy and comfortable within. There were rooms in it just as there are in an ordinary house, and Keeper David Rollins and his wife lived there contentedly all the year round, with an assistant to help tend the lenses.

Another member of the family was Raymond Rollins, their son, a sturdy boy, who took to the queer habitation naturally enough and thought it rare fun to live practically on an island.

In summer life in the tall tower was not so bad. There was a cool sea breeze continually blowing, and if fish were wanted all that was necessary was to throw a line off the ledge and a fresh breakfast was awaiting them. Then there was a boat always at command, and half an hour's sturdy pulling would take the oarsmen into the little harbor inclosed by the reef and to the town at the end of the bay. Whenever possible Raymond would row ashore and attend school. There was a novelty about this that pleased him. Besides, he was looked upon with a certain awe by the children, and when the great storms shook their own comfortable houses they would think of the boy in the granite tower and wonder if he were frightened.

It was seldom that Raymond missed going ashore in summer or during the mild months of the spring and fall, but in winter it was quite a different thing. Then the fierce gales that occasionally swept the coast blew up a heavy sea and made the attempt dangerous. Then life in the confined limits of the lighthouse became monotonous, for there was nothing to do but clean the lamps, see that they were lighted at sundown and extinguished at sunrise and carefully cover the lenses from the rays of the sun by day.

For three days now Ray had been confined to the tower. He watched the vessels in the distance, and was so expert that he could pick out all the regular coasters as far as his eyes could reach. The excessive cold snap fortunately was not accompanied by a gale, so the sea was comparatively smooth, but the ice was thicker than he had ever seen it.

It was towards the end of the third day and the boy was getting restless. He longed to get ashore to "stretch his legs," as he termed it.

"What is the matter, father, are you ill?" he asked, noticing at length that the keeper's face was paler than usual.

"I am afraid your father is going to have another one of his bad spells," said his mother, anxiously. "The doctor told him to take a dose of that medicine," she added, nodding towards a bottle that stood on a mantle, "if there were symptoms of another attack, but it is all gone and there is no prospect of getting any more just at present, I fear."

"Well, I don't know," said Ray, thoughtfully. He walked over to a window and looked out. On all sides was a field of ice.

"Job wanted to try to reach shore, but I wouldn't let him," remarked the keeper.

"I was willing to make the attempt, though," added the assistant.

"Yes, I know you were, but it is too late now. It is almost night."

"I don't believe that ice is solid, and if anyone could get through it I could," said Ray. "Suppose I try it."

"No, no; the ice is packed-too tightly. I wouldn't hear to it," declared his father, emphatically.

"There goes a tug into the harbor. Look! she is making a channel," cried Ray. "I can go ashore easy enough."

The keeper turned pale and sunk into a chair. He pressed his hand to his head as if in pain.

"There! you have got to have that medicine, and that's all there is about it," exclaimed Ray.

"I do feel as if it would save me from a fit of sickness," groaned the sufferer, "but-"

"Oh! never mind the buts. I am going. Job, you mind the lamps till I get back. Come and help me get the boat into the water."

The keeper protested feebly, but Ray was so confident that he could reach shore in safety that he gave in at last.

The boat hung from davits out of the reach of the waves, but it was easily lowered into the water and Ray, descending the iron ladder cautiously, let himself into the light craft. Without much difficulty he forced his way through the cakes of ice until the channel was reached, and then, following in the wake of the tug, succeeded in reaching the wharf.

It was a hard pull and the boy was tired, when he made the boat fast, but he would have time to rest while getting the medicine, and he had no doubt that the return trip could be made without any more difficulty than he had experienced in coming ashore.

But in this he was mistaken, as he soon discovered.

When Ray left the lighthouse the tide was at its full and the ice nearly stationary. But now the tide had turned and was running out. The motion of the water had started the great cakes, and the result was that the channel was entirely obliterated.

The boy was not pulled a quarter of a mile before the ice began to settle in all about him, requiring all his strength to move it. This work was fatiguing, and he was wet with perspiration, in spite of the cold air, before he realized it.

To add to the difficulties night was coming on rapidly, and suddenly the great star of light flashed forth from the granite tower, warning all vessels of the dangerous reef. He stopped to look at it for a minute, then picked up the oars again.

"Come, this won't do at all," he said to himself. "I must do better than this, or I shall not get home to-night."

Ahead of him was a little space of what appeared to be clear water. He bent to the oars, and, with a vigorous tug, sent the boat spinning ahead. In another minute he was sprawling in the bottom. The bow had struck a piece of ice with terrible force, and a sharp point had pierced a hole through which the water was beginning to bubble. With his handkerchief he partially stopped the leak, but not entirely, and then tried to row on again.

But this time the boat utterly refused to move. It was fast in the ice. All about him were the ice cakes, driven together by the action of the tide, and there was nowhere a loophole of escape. For the first time he realized his position and sunk back in the boat in despair.

Half a mile away, as near as he could judge, stood the lighthouse. He lifted his voice and shouted until he was hoarse. Then the utter uselessness of it was apparent, for even if his father should hear him he could do nothing. There was no other boat, and a rescue from that quarter was out of the question.

"What shall I do?" The words that his thoughts had formed escaped involuntarily from his lips, and they almost startled him, so lonesome did they seem away out there, amid the floating ice. He was gradually drifting out to sea, and before long would be on the broad sound. But there was no help for him, and he found himself wondering what the end would be.

Up in the great tower he knew that his father was at that moment fretting about him. He gazed at the light in silence, and tried to picture the loved ones and what they were doing. Then he found himself shivering. Oh! how cold he was. Overheated by his exercise, the freezing weather chilled him to the bones. The water, too, was washing about the bottom of the boat, and he felt around in the darkness for a tin dipper to bail. How icy every drop was! His fingers felt as if they must turn into icicles, so numb were they.

Suddenly the fog bell in the tower pealed out. What could it mean? Was it for him?

He smiled grimly, for what good could it possibly do? Still it cheered him, for it showed that he was not forgotten.

Hark! There was a steamer out here in the sound. Ray gave a little cry of joy. Why had he not thought of it? She was bound into the harbor. Yes, it was a steamer, for he could hear the sound of her paddle wheels. Presently they stopped. Was her captain trying to make out the signal from the lighthouse? If so, he did not succeed, for in a minute or two she proceeded on her way. She rounded the reef and headed into the bay. Then it was that Ray discovered that he was far out of the channel, for the steamer was giving him a wide berth. He waited until she got nearly abreast, and then, summoning all his strength, shouted for help.

Again and again he lifted his voice, but all in vain. No one heard him, and half fainting from exhaustion and despair he sunk down into the boat.

The water washing over his feet brought him to his senses. It was terribly cold and he was chilled through and through. His feet were nearly frozen and his hands were almost without feeling. He tried to stagger up, but could hardly stand. He looked about him, and with a cry of surprise and joy found the lighthouse close to him. Almost over his head gleamed its light. He had been carried towards it by the current while half unconscious.

Once more he lifted a cry for help, and this time a cheery voice came down from aloft:

"Aye, aye, I hear you!"

It was the assistant keeper.

"Aye, aye, boy. Are you all right?"

"All right; but hurry, Job, for I'm drifting out to sea."

The boat had struck an eddy which was rapidly hurrying it around the point. Ray quickly saw the new danger. What was to be done? He dared not wait for assistance, for before Job could get to the foot of the ladder he would be beyond reach. He looked about him for help.

At the very foot of the tower the receding tide had left a bit of the jagged reef exposed. If he could grasp that he would be safe. But between him and it were the floating cakes of ice. Could he reach it?

Grasping the painter of the boat in his left hand he stood upon the thwart of the life boat and sprang boldly forward. The ice gave way under him and he fell, the drifting cakes parting and thrusting him under. But his fingers just reached the rock, and, numbed with cold though they were, clutched the jagged stone. But it was only for an instant. Then a huge cake struck him on the back of the head, and all became dark.

When Ray recovered his senses he was lying in his own bed in the lighthouse and wondering how he got there. His mother was bending over him and smiling through her tears.

"There, you mustn't talk, my boy," his father said as he began to ask questions. "You have had a terrible time of it, and it will be a great wonder if you get over this without a serious illness. Try to go to sleep and don't bother yourself to-night."

"Nonsense!" replied Ray. "You don't think I mind a little ducking like that, do you? Tell me how I happened to be fished out."

"Job did it. He caught you just as you were going under. He saved your life."

Ray was silent for a moment, and then he said, solemnly: "I never want another adventure like that as long as I live. But I saved the medicine," he added with a smile. "I told you I could get it, and I kept my word."-Golden Days.