"I've been left in charge, and if it hadn't been for my being here Uncle Zenas couldn't have gone to help Captain Eph pull the boat. I'm not a baby; but if I don't mind my eye the keepers will have good reason for thinking I am one."
Suddenly the thought came into his mind that he had missed the chance of watching the dory as it sped before the wind on its errand of mercy, and, running up-stairs at full speed, he threw open that window in the watch-room which gave toward the south.
The rescuers had made such good speed that he could barely distinguish the boat with the naked eye, but by the aid of the glasses he saw that both men were rowing strongly and steadily, as if knowing exactly at what point the missing man could be found.
Search as he might, it was impossible to see anything floating on the sea. If Mr. Peters had been carried away by the raft, it must have been at an early hour in the forenoon, otherwise it should have been possible to see him.
Sidney watched the rapidly retreating dory as long as it was possible to distinguish the forms of her crew, and then, with a lump in his throat which threatened to choke him, he went into the kitchen.
Here he cared for the food, replenished the fire, swept the floor, and worked at whatsoever he could find for his hands to do until the room was seemingly as neat and tidy as ever it had been under Uncle Zenas' supervision.
It seemed to him that he must have been at work a full hour, and yet when he looked at the clock the hands were but ten minutes farther on their journey around the dial than when he began.
Again he went into the watch-room; but now it was impossible to see even the dory, and he felt more forsaken than before.
Uncle Zenas was too good a housekeeper to leave very much work undone at that time in the day, and, search as he might, Sidney could find nothing with which to keep his hands busy.
With such a weight of sorrow in his heart he could not read, and he went to and fro between the lantern and the kitchen, hardly conscious of what he did. Again and again he searched the surface of the heaving waters with the glasses, but without seeing the smallest object which his fancy could shape into a raft or a boat.
When the clock in the kitchen struck the hour of four, it was as if his heart ceased beating, for he understood that even if the dory should come in sight immediately, it would be impossible for the keepers to reach the ledge before sunset, and he felt positive they would never return. He would be the sole occupant of that lonely tower until the inspector found an opportunity of visiting Carys' Ledge.