“Jiminy, some storm”, growled Ray as he forced his so’wester down over his eyes.
“Hit’s blowin’ some ’at,” assured the lobsterman as he pulled his collar up higher and stumped forward in the lead of the little party.
Jack was on the point of making an appropriate remark also, but the wind snatched the words from between his teeth, it seemed, and he decided after that to conserve his energies for the fight against the storm.
Mitchell apparently followed some sort of a path through the forest that clad the top of the island, for he wound his way in and out among the trees in a peculiar manner. But if there was a path, the boys could not detect it. All they did was follow the one-legged old man who silently fought his way against the wind. Although the pine trees were many and their foliage thick, the wind seemed just as strong in the woods as out in the little opening around the lobsterman’s cottage. It blew a veritable hurricane, it seemed to Jack, and the tall trees bent and swayed in a most awe-inspiring manner. In truth, branches were literally torn from some of them and here and there the lads found a big timber that had been uprooted and flung aside by the elements exactly as if it had been no heavier than a clump of bay berry bushes.
On through this wind-lashed forest they plodded, watching constantly to keep out of harm’s way for they realized that to be in the path of one of the falling trees would be the end of them. On and on they forced their way, backs bent and faces shielded as much as possible against the stinging rain. Minutes seemed like hours and hours eternal, so slow was their progress. How long they fought the elements the boys could not guess, but gradually as they worked their way across the island a new note was added to the terrible growl of the storm and it gave the lads a better idea of their location. It was the boom of the breakers upon Cobra Reef.
They were nearing the ocean side of the island now. Jack began to detect familiar sections of the woods, in spite of the storm. He also knew that they were approaching the top of the promontory upon which the lighthouse was located, for they had begun to climb a rather steep slope. On they toiled, their way growing harder as they advanced, until suddenly they were struck by a gust of wind that almost hurled them off their feet. Then Jack knew that they had left the forest and entered the clearing about the construction camp.
Past the blacksmith shop and the bunk-house they trudged, until they came to the long mess-hall. Along the lee wall of this building they made their way until they came to the path that led to the lighthouse. Here they paused and before leaving the shelter of the building, took a survey of the situation.
And as Jack looked toward the beacon he caught sight of a big group of men huddled in the shelter of the pile of granite blocks near the steel tower of the cable-way. There must have been fifty or more in the crowd and all were dressed in oilskins or overcoats.
“Look, there’s the whole camp. What’s wrong? What’s going on out there? Something’s happened on the rock, I’ll bet. They are looking out to sea!”
“Sure enough. What do you suppose is the matter?” exclaimed Ray, as he too caught sight of the men.