Christmas on Shark Shoal

by Henry C. Rowland

CHRISTMAS ON SHARK SHOAL

A Story of a Girl, a Motor Boat and a Lightship

By Henry C. Rowland

 

THEN I am to understand," said Mr. Carling sadly, "that you decline to marry me because I am a Bostonian?"

“No," replied Miss Chester, resting her large, gray eyes upon him with an expression of polite regret. "It is because you can never for for one second forget than you are a Bostonian."

"It is precisely the same thing," sighed Mr. Carling.

"Also," pursued Miss Chester remorselessly, "you seem to feel it a pleasant duty to keep reminding the rest of us that we are not Bostonians."

"Quite superfluous, I admit," said Mr. Carling.

"Then you are such a soft pedal to the enthusiasm of youth. Although we have taken this clubhouse for a fortnight for a Christmas house-party, and filled it up with a jolly crowd of young people, one would think that you were attending a synod! You can ride and golf and shoot ducks and play bridge all night, and lots of things,—and yet you stalk around like a family spook—"

"That's because I am in love," explained Mr. Carling calmly.

"It's because you are lazy," retorted Miss Chester indignantly. "Besides," she continued with feminine irrelevance, "I don't like your methods. The idea of going to papa and asking his consent to 'pay your addresses' to his daughter before you had scarcely spoken to me alone! It gives me the creeps!"

"A tribute to your charms—" began Mr. Carling.

"A tribute to your own powers of fascination!" retorted Miss Chester. "It's so absolutely un-American!"

A faint color crept into Mr. Carling's lean, aristocratic cheek, but his manner lost none of its gentleness.

"It struck me as being rather decent, Doris," he protested. "You see, if I had your parent's consent and then failed to secure yours I would be the only one to be unhappy, whereas if I was to secured yours and then find your parents opposed, you would be unhappy also."

Miss Chester threw out her pretty hands with a gesture of despair.

"That is just it! Your reasons are always so infallibly and wearisomely excellent! Are you never angry, nor excited, nor foolish—"

There was a modest rap at the door, and at Miss Chester's reply the steward of the Poccamaw Fishing Club entered, Carling arose.

"I presume that you and Chapin must discuss ways and means," he remarked and, excusing himself, passed into the main hall, which a group of men and girls were busily engaged in decorating with holly and mistletoe. While Carling was cautioning them against a fall from the step-ladders. Miss Chester entered.

"The plans for tomorrow are these," she announced to her chattering guests: "The men are going out at four o'clock tomorrow morning to shoot ducks—"

"Handy hour,—we can go right out after bridge; saves the trouble of going to bed at all," murmured one of the gentlemen.

"Please don't interrupt. The automobile launch will tow them to their stations. In the afternoon papa is going to take the girls out in the steam-launch and, if the water is still, they will sail around and break up the duck rafts so that the men will get some shooting. After luncheon I must go over to town after our supplies, or we will have a very incomplete Christmas dinner."

"But who's going to run the bubble-boat if the captain is away on the launch?"

The ruddy hue of the fire was reflected from Miss Chester's pretty face.

"I had counted on Jones, but Jones has insisted on spending Christmas Day at home, so I am afraid that I will have to call upon Mr. Carling, as I believe he is the only one in the party who can run the machine."

"Lucky dog!" said one of the duck shooters. "Why didn't I take an elective course in gas engines senior year instead of psychology?"

"Probably because psychology was easier," suggested Mr. Carling.

"Have the bubble-boat ready for us at four o'clock sharp, Carling," ordered another of the men who had looked more deeply into the matter.

"Eh,—what?" exclaimed Mr. Carling with a startled look at Miss Chester.

"Oh, I forgot to speak of that!" cried Miss Chester demurely. "You don't mind taking the men out, do you, Mr. Carling? There is every indication of a fine day,—and don't you adore a winter sunrise?"

 

Christmas morning broke bright and clear, but with a suspicious banking of heavy clouds to the northward. Daylight found the duck hunters upon their allotted stands, and as Carling turned his speed launch toward the clubhouse the sun was creeping out of the sea, a great, lurid, disk of fire. There was something feverish and congested about its appearance which aroused the sympathy of the young man.

"Know just how you feel, old chap," he observed. "Must be an awful bore to have to break out at this unrighteous hour every day!" He glanced about with the interest of one enjoying a natural phenomenon. A faint breeze was stirring, which the high speed of the launch converted into an icy blast as he drove straight into it. Glancing astern, Carling looked out through the inlet and across the flat, gray water to where on the horizon twinkled the twin lights of the Shark Shoal lightship. Far to the southward flickered the intermittent flash of the Dog's Tooth, and on the eastern point of the entrance the red sector of the Tide-Trap Shoals glowed a warning that paled as the lower rim of the sun rested on the sea line. Suddenly, as he watched, all three lights expired, and almost at the same moment the swift sunlight touched with color all that had been but monotones of gray.

"Really, it's not half bad," said Mr. Carling to himself, rather surprised at his enjoyment of the bleak surroundings; nevertheless, he was glad when his launch slipped up to the landing, for there was a raw chill in the air which made the prospect of coffee and an egg most attractive.

When he accompanied Miss Chester to the landing after luncheon the character of the day had undergone a change. The cloud-bank in the northwest had covered half of the sky, and the air was several degrees colder,

"It will snow before night," observed Carling.

"I think not," she replied; "it is too far south. A snowstorm is rare down here."

"It is rare for me to see the sunrise," he answered, "but it has been known to occur."

Miss Chester seated herself without deigning to reply; then, as Carling was about to shove off, she sprang to her feet.

"I meant to bring my rifle!" she exclaimed.

"It's not worth while," he replied discouragingly. "You could never hit a duck from a boat like this; also a loaded gun in a boat is a dangerous combination. Nine-tenths of the accidents—"

"You may lie down behind the engine when I shoot?" replied Miss Chester sharply. "I wish to take my rifle, and I will ask you to wait until I get it."

She stepped out of the launch and walked toward the club-house while Carling, a flush on his high cheek-bones, rolled a cigarette and waited in silence. A few minutes later Miss Chester returned carrying a small thirty-two repeating rifle.

"I will tell you when I am going to shoot so that you may hold your ears," she remarked as she laid the little weapon under a thwart.

"I would feel much safer holding the gun," he replied satirically.

As the swift launch tore out of the little cove the exhilaration of the motion banished the girl's resentment and she glanced more kindly at her silent cavalier.

"They are wonderful machines, are they not?" she exclaimed to Carling who with one elbow resting on the rail was looking listlessly across the stretch of open water.

"Oh, yes," he drawled, "but like automobiles and race horses and stag dinners and other fast things, not quite reliable. Suppose your twelve horse-power engine gets balky,—then where are you? I think they're downright dangerous," he added languidly.

"I am sorry to be the cause of exposing you to so many dangers," replied Miss Chester coldly. "I am afraid that with the early rising, the possibility of a snow-storm, the presence of a fire-arm in the boat and above all the prospect of the dangers of a break-down, you will be quite prostrated after your Christmas holiday. I am sorry that I omitted to bring my salts; also that none of the men understand this engine so that you could have gone on the steam launch with papa and the girls.

"I am much happier with you," he replied with unruffled calm, "even despite the perils and privations of this sea-going automobile. If I was aboard the Silver King I would probably become unpopular by begging the girls not to eat so many bon-bons or to stand too near the rail. You see I am cursed with a spirit of caution and an inclination to follow the line of least resistance, and by the way, you had better not sit quite so near the fly-wheel as your skirt might get caught and throw you into the machinery. I once heard of a girl who—"

"Spare me!" cried Miss Chester, throwing out both hands imploringly.

Before long they were half-way across he mouth of the inlet. The tide was ebbing like a mill race and Carling found it necessary to head well above their destination to avoid being carried out to sea. Far in the offing they could see the Shark Shoal Light-ship; the only break in the bleak horizon.

"Think of the poor fellows spending their Christmas out on that desolate water!" exclaimed Miss Chester. "How forlorn and sad it seems,—and how selfish it makes one feel. I wish that we could go out there and take them some of the good things which we expect to bring back with us,—don't you?"

"I should like to send them something," agreed Mr. Carling conditionally, "but—" he glanced at the sky to windward, "I think I could forego the pleasure of taking them in person this afternoon."

A few minutes later they reached the landing and with the expenditure of a little time and some northern gold, succeeded in inducing the express agent to send the supplies down to the launch. As they started back Mr. Carling observed that the breeze had freshened and that there was a suspicious rawness in the air.

They were crossing the mouth of the inlet when suddenly Miss Chester, whose eyes had been resting on the expanse of cold gray water, sprang to her feet.

"There goes a flock of geese!" she cried excitedly, "—see,—straight out,—close to the water—there, they have lit! Let us run down and get a shot at them!"

Carling turned the wheel and headed the launch sea-ward,

"Look at her go!" he cried with a certain awe in his voice as they shot past a black and white mid-channel buoy. "The tide must run four knots! Do you think it well to start on this wild-goose chase with this tide to buck on the way back?"

"I'm going to get a shot if I have to chase them outside the Capes," she answered stubbornly. They dashed on until almost abreast of the outer entrance and could soon distinguish the big birds quite plainly.

"Now stop and let her drift!" whispered Miss Chester. Carling obediently turned the switch and the drive in the cylinders ceased. Onward sped the launch, propelled by its high momentum, while the geese, undisturbed by its swift and silent approach, swam back and forth, turning their heads inquiringly.

All at once Miss Chester raised her weapon, but before she had time to aim there came a sharp report. The flock arose, and although she fired several times in quick succession she was unable to score a hit. She turned to Carling.

"The wretched thing went off before I was ready!" she almost sobbed,

"Never mind," he 'answered comfortingly, "there's one more happy goose in the world and we really did not need him." He started the engine and turning the launch they began to stem the racing tide. Though flying through the water they could see from the distant shore that their progress was far less rapid than before.

"Rather chilly, facing this wind, is it not—hello,—what's struck the engine!" cried Carling suddenly.

An odd, choking rattle was proceeding from the laboring machinery. A series of quick gasps followed by a loud report ensued and the next instant the wheels had ceased to revolve.

"What has happened?" cried Miss Chester nervously as the bow of the launch began to swing off to the current.

"I can't quite make out," replied Carling in a puzzled voice as he rapidly went over different parts of the engine. "Sparker's all right—seems to be in the feeder,—and did you ever smell such a reek of gasoline! Well upon my word,—feeder must be choked,—there's not a drop of—no, pump's all right. I'd think she'd run out of gasoline if I hadn't filled the tank myself this morning. By Jove—" He started rapidly forward and as Miss Chester saw the expression on his fine features the blood left her cheeks.

"What is it?" she asked sharply. He did not at once reply, but continued his swift examination of the tank, which was in fact quite superfluous, as the first glance had shown him a bullet-hole through the wood work in which it was encased.

He turned to her slowly and with an air of calm regret. His brief examination had shown him that the stray bullet from the girl's rifle had cut through the side and bottom of the tank allowing the last drop of fuel to escape.

"I'm awfully sorry," he began humbly, "but the tank's sprung a leak and there's not a drop of gasoline left. I'm afraid we'll have to anchor,—if we can," he added under his breath.

"No gasoline!" she cried in horror, "Why how will we get back?"

"Oh, we'll drift back with the turn of the tide," he answered carelessly, and began to clear the anchor line. Miss Chester watched him dumbly, marveling at his calm, for to her their situation seemed desperate, they were so utterly helpless, drifting swiftly to sea in this dead fabric which but a few moments before had seemed so full of life and power. Carling began to talk reassuringly.

"Even if we can't hang on here," he said, "the water shoals farther out and we're bound to bring up there." He did not add that with the wind off shore and freshening, the turn of the tide would make bad weather across the shoal for broken down speed launches. It seemed to him that their only salvation was to hold on where they were, inside the rip.

"A vessel is sure to come up before dark," he told her reassuringly. "You know they are constantly going in and out—" He had dropped the anchor over the bow and was cautiously slacking the line, When he had paid out about five fathoms he felt the vibration caused by the sliding of the anchor along the hard, sandy bottom.

"It is not as deep as I had feared—" he began, when there came a sudden tug at the line that almost hauled him overboard. He barely saved himself by gripping the painter, at the same time dropping the anchor line which ran out over the side like a snake. Recovering himself, Carling threw it into the chock on the bow, and picking up what slack was left, caught a quick turn on the bitts. He had scarcely done so when the line sprang taut, the trend being astern and under the boat. He tried to slack out gradually in order to give the launch time to swing head-up, but he had not sufficient line left. The full force of the ebb tide caught the long boat broadside on, heeling her until the gunwale was awash; the next instant the cable parted under the terrific strain, the launch righted quickly, and went sweeping out to sea.

Mr. Carling turned to his companion with an air of profound though calm regret. His arms felt as though stretched on the rack and the palms of both hands were raw.

"What happened?" asked Miss Chester wildly.

"I'm awfully sorry, but we've lost our anchor. It suddenly held on something and wouldn't give an inch; must have fouled a piece of wreckage, as there are no rocks hereabouts."

"But what can we do now?" She gazed back in hopeless horror at the dwindling shore.

"We'll soon be picked up,—don't worry," he answered comfortingly. "I think that the joke is on the rest of the people"—he waved his hand at the pile of provisions—"here we are sailing out to sea with all of the eatables and drinkables that make a Christmas dinner worth the effort Are you warm enough?"

"I am more frightened than cold," she admitted faintly, her self-assertion all swept away by surrounding dangers. She found herself looking to him childishly for reassurance, and gained the greatest comfort in his quiet smile.

Carling stood up and searched the bleak horizon. The cold, gray sky was cut sharply by the rim of the cold, gray sea, the line of contact unmarred by any break; then all at once his eyes rested on a distant, uncouth object on their port bow. He turned joyfully to Miss Chester.

"The lightship!" he cried. "I had forgotten all about her!"

Something in his tone sent a quick thrill through the girl. In spite of her agitation she realized that it was the first time she had ever heard his voice raised from its usual unruffled calm.

"Where?" she asked eagerly—"oh, yes,—I see her, but isn't she a very long way off?"

"Not over four miles,—but the tide is setting us to the southward of her. I will have to rig some sort of sail" His voice still carried the quick, eager tone that made the girl's heart beat faster. He leaped down and began to haul the tarpaulins from under the cushions of the launch, and the next moment had spread them open and was lacing them together by running the twine from the parcels through the eyelets.

"The big sweep will do for a mast," he explained eagerly, "and that boat hook is long enough to use as a yard"—he cut away one of the small pulleys leading the tiller line to the wheel and lashed it deftly to the end of the sweep. "You see, I can stay the mast with what's left of the anchor line and reeve a halliard through this block." He worked quickly and skilfully as he talked, and Miss Chester, watching him, wondered if this could be the same man whom she had so condemned for lack of animation. Voice, manner, actions, even appearance, all seemed new to her and as she watched his purposeful efforts she forgot the dangers about them, and a new sentiment, strangely sweet and one which seemed to bid defiance to the chill of the darkening December day, gradually possessed her.

"Take the wheel, Doris," he said presently, "and keep her before the wind while I get up this sail."

She obeyed with a sense of pleasure at doing his will, especially as uttered in a terse command. Carling was working at his improvised sail, and as she sat with the little wheel in her hands Doris' eyes rested idly on the bulkhead enclosing the tank. A blotch on the light woodwork attracted her attention, and the next instant she had discovered the fatal bullet hole which was the cause of their mishap,

"Dick!" she called sharply, and leaving his sail unhoisted Carling sprang to her side.

"What is it, Doris?" he asked concernedly. She pointed at the bullet hole.

"Did you know it, Dick?"

"Yes, dear," he answered gently.

"And you never said a word—" Her big, blue eyes were raised to his, and as he looked into them they brimmed over. There was a suspicious quiver to her lips.

He rested his hand upon hers as it held the little wheel

"It was an accident, Doris. Any one might have—"

"But you never told me, and I was—blaming you—for not keeping a better watch—" There came a break in the sweet voice. Carling squeezed the cold, little hand.

"Never mind, dear,—it will soon be all right." He returned to his improvised sail, which was soon set and drawing strongly.

Satisfied that it was ample to furnish the necessary steerage-way to reach the lightship, Carling gathered up an armful of loose wraps and went forward to where Miss Chester was sitting holding the wheel. He enveloped the girl in a warm steamer rug, then took the wheel gently from her hands and, without a word, threw his free arm about her shoulders and drew her to his side. Naturally as a tired child her head found a resting place upon his big shoulder, and so they drifted on, out into the gathering gloom.

A white mist had hidden the low land astern and soon the air was filled with large, white flakes of snow falling silently into the dark water. The lightship, looming through the murk, was almost hidden, when all at once out blazed the two great lights, cleaving the darkened, snow-filled air and seeming to shine a welcome. Higher they loomed, and soon Carling could see the dark hull and heard a gruff-shouted order. He leaned over gently and kissed Doris on the lips. The hand nestling in his gave back an answering pressure.

"We are at the ship, sweetheart," he whispered, then raised his voice to a hail.

"Lightship a-hoy!"

"Hal-lo-o-o!" came back a lusty answer. "Can ye fetch up alongside, 'r shall I lower?"

"I can make it, captain," called Carling, and a moment later laid the launch on the lee side of the vessel, where a sea-ladder had been dropped. Doris glanced overhead and saw several bearded faces looking down curiously.

"Bless my soul—thar's a lady!" exclaimed a hearty voice, and a burly form slipped over the side and descended the ladder half way.

"Can ye make out to get up, ma' am?" asked the captain anxiously. "If I'd known there was a lady aboard I'd ha' rigged out a bos'un's chair. Good,—my, but you're as spry as a mackerel. Jump up, cap,—my boys will drop her astern, and I reckon she'll be all right."

Doris had already reached the deck, and Carling acted on the advice of the captain. They looked about them curiously; the heavy masts, the great lamps half-mast high, the big horn and other massive gear for warning vessels of the dread Shark Shoal, were strangely impressive as seen in that half light and through the flying mist of snow. A group of men were about them, and they noticed that all were clad in clean, new uniforms and regarding them with unobtrusive curiosity.

Suddenly Doris turned to the group.

"Merry Christmas!" she cried, holding out both hands with a charming gesture of good-will.

"Merry Christmas, Ma-am,—Merry Christmas!" came back a delighted chorus.

"Glad to see you aboard!" cried the captain hospitably. "Come below,—it's gettin' right chilly!"

They followed him down to a comfortable cabin, spotlessly clean and nicely furnished. The first things to catch Doris' eye were some pathetic little garlands of holly draped along the bulkheads.

"Make yourselves at home!" said the captain hospitably. "Broke down, I reckon?" he inquired. "We see you workin' down under that jury rig jes' before it got dark and I would have sent a boat after you but I see that you could make the ship all right. Never thought of there bein' a lady aboard." Carling explained the nature of their accident. Presently a shadow crossed the captain's kindly features.

"I'm right sorry I've got so little to offer you," he began regretfully. "Christmas night too! Our light ship tender got aground three days ago and they only got her off yesterday so we didn't get our Christmas stores—"

"And do you mean to say that you poor fellows have not even had a Christmas dinner?" cried Doris pityingly.

"Nary thing but salt horse and lobscouse, ma-am," replied the captain. "I reckon we'll get it some time though,—but it ain't the same when you don't get it on Christmas,—is it!"

"Dick," said Miss Chester, "if the captain will let you have a few men to help, go down to that launch and bring up everything aboard!" She turned to the Captain. "I believe that a kind Providence sent us out here on purpose to provide you poor fellows with a Christmas dinner. No—" She held up her hand seeing that he was about to protest. "Wait until you see what we have. You think perhaps that we simply had a few things for ourselves,—just wait until you see!"

Much mystified the Captain permitted himself to be led on deck by Carling. A whip was quickly rigged and soon the contents of the launch were swung aboard to the utter amazement of the vessel's crew.

"Say,—what is this, Matey?" queried one of the men, observing the labels of the various cases and boxes. Sparkling Moselle!—holy fish hooks! Champagne! Veal Loaf!—Sugar-cured Hams! I want t'know! What is this anyway,—a surprise party? Truffles! By the Smoky—!"

"Suppose we take the whole collation below out of the wet," suggested Carling. Ready arms picked up the crates and boxes and bore them to the cabin. The men were about to leave when Doris stopped them.

"This is my party!" she cried, "and you are all invited. Now some of you set the table and the rest open the boxes. Where's the cook? Some of these things must be served hot—"

"Pass the word for the doctor—" called one of the crew, but the grizzled old sea-cook was already inspecting the delicacies with the interest of an artist who sees for the first time masterpieces known to him only by reputation.

"Now somebody get a tub and cool the wine at once!" ordered Miss Chester. "If any of you want to smoke while we are getting things ready, here are some perfectos and Egyptian cigarettes—"

"Perfectos! Egyptian cigarettes! Holy Saints,—but our faces will die of surprise!" cried the old Irish lamp-tender.

"Hey,—Skipper—will ye pipe down the turkey stuffed with maroons!—and s'help me if here ain't a suckin' pig!—and say, Skipper, just turn your lamps on this here basket of fruit!—ain't that a daisy?" cried the delighted cook. "Them grapes was growed under glass,—every one of 'em!" he added in an awed voice.

And so the game went on. The men soon forgot their bashfulness and the air was filled with the rending of splintered pine mingled with hoarse cries of delight. Up in his galley, the cook was vacillating between ecstasy and nervous prostration, while strong arms bore the steaming dishes to the cabin table. Outside the snow swirled about the great lamps and the intermittent blare of the horn penetrated the heavy timbers.

Doris marvelled at the perfect decorum of the company. To them she seemed some Divinity from another world come to do them honor and bring them cheer upon this sacred night.

"If things didn't taste so good, ma-am," confided an elderly member of the crew, "I sure would think I was a-dreamin', but in dreams things never have no taste."

"We will send them a Christmas box each year, will we not, Dick?" said Miss Chester as she nestled by his side the following morning while the launch, once more imbued with life, tore in through the inlet.

"Yes," he answered heartily, and his voice still carried its new-found ring, "a piano box filled with everything that is good to eat and drink and smoke. One can't do enough for men like that!"

"My greatest dread at present," said Doris, "is that of facing my guests; fancy, inviting a lot of people to a fishing club for Christmas and then taking the entire Christmas dinner and going off with one's fiancé to eat it on a lightship!"

"And leaving the poor guests to fill up on wild ducks and cornpone! But then a good dinner doesn't mean much to them and it does to those poor chaps out on the lightship."

"Of course they know by this time that we are safe, as the Captain signalled to the Tide Trap and they must have telephoned to the Club, but just think what frightful anxiety they must have been in!"

"That will rob the loss of the dinner of its sting and they' ll be so glad to see us that they will have only gentle speech. What gentlemen those lightship chaps all were; even after we had finished a case of champagne not one of them once forgot his manners. And did you notice what sad faces they had? It is a pityful service."

They were silent for several moments, each thinking of the meager lives of those whom they had just left; these men who were neither owned by sea nor land, then Carline glanced at a spar-buoy just abeam.

"This is the spot where we lost our anchor," he remarked.

"It is where I found mine!" she whispered, nestling closer. He passed his free arm about her.

"Look ahead, Doris. Here comes the Silver King."

Their eyes met; the color swept into the face of the girl.

"Are you sure,—they—can not see us yet?" she murmured.