Robert in his exultation had never permitted his fire to die down an
inch. Rather he had made it grow higher and higher until it was a vast
core of light, throwing a red glare over the beach and the adjacent
waves, and sending off vast showers of sparks. But when the ship cast
anchor in her port he stood still before it, a dark figure, a perfect
silhouette outlined against a blazing background, and watched, while a
boat was launched from the sloop.

He saw five figures descend into the boat. Four were sailors and one an
officer in uniform, and he knew well that they were coming to see him,
the human being by the fire who had saved them. Pride was mingled with
his joy. If he had not been there the sloop and probably all on board of
her would have perished. It was touch and go, only a brief opportunity
to save had been allowed him, but he had used it. So he raised himself
to his full height, straightened his clothes, for which he always had
respect despite the storm, and waited on. He had a full sense of drama,
and he felt that this was one of the most dramatic moments of his life.

The boat came up the beach on a wave, the men sprang out, held it as the
wave retreated, and then dragged it after them until it was beyond the
reach of invading water. Robert meanwhile never stirred, and the great
fire behind him enlarged his figure to heroic proportions.

The officer, young, handsome, in the British naval uniform, walked
forward, with the four sailors following in a close group behind, but he
stopped again, and looked at the strange figure before him. Evidently
something in its pose, in its whole appearance, in truth, made an
extraordinary impression upon him. He passed his hands before his eyes
as if to make sure that it was no blur of the vision, and then he went