The Mystery on Cobbett's Island

1890,” Cap told them as they clambered up the rocks to the front entrance. “In those days, they got the light from oil lanterns with huge reflectors back of them. The keeper had to stay the year around to keep them going.”
    “I suppose electricity is more practical, but it sure takes the romance away from places like this,” said Diana dreamily. “I’d love to live way out here, with a dog and cat for company.”
    “Oh, you know you’d get bored stiff after the first week without your friends,” said Trixie. “You’d be inviting us all out to keep you company. But getting back to the light, Peter, why don’t they use the lighthouse now?”
    “The sandbar gradually shifted, so the Coast Guard put up the flashing light buoy to mark the channel.” Trixie had found time, while Cap was tying up his boat, to tell the others that, although the chart looked awfully dubious, they were all to keep their eyes open for any clues. They went through all the rooms of the two-storied house and up into the tower. All that remained of the building were the four stone walls and the partitions. Vandals had broken the windows and pulled down much of the stairway, but it was easy to imagine the ghosts of past keepers still haunting the place as the wind whistled through the vacant rooms. But if the house held any secrets, it steadfastly refused to give them up to the Bob-Whites.
    After they had explored every nook and cranny, they lay outside on the flat rocks in the sun until Peter suggested they had better be starting back. “The tide certainly hasn’t been much help today,” he said ruefully. “We came out when it was going in, and here we are going home with it dead against us. If we take the eddy, we’ll be back in plenty of time for supper, though.”
    “Hey, Pete,” said Cap, “what say we each take a different course home? You hug the island shore, and I’ll go over near Greenpoint, and we’ll see if there’s any difference in the strength of the back eddy on the two shores.”
    “I’m game,” Peter answered with enthusiasm. “I’ve always had trouble deciding which was the fastest.”
    “What’s all this talk about eddies?” inquired Mart.
    “Well, let’s see, how can I explain it?” Peter mused. “It’s like shoving your hand in a jar full of water,” he went on. “The water has to go somewhere, so it pours out from all sides. It’s the same when the tide comes racing into the bay. You get a current along the shores in the opposite direction from the tide. Eddies help you to make better time when the tide is against you.”
    It was a perfect afternoon. The wind held, and as it grew later, the air cooled, bringing pleasant relief from the heat of the sun. They had been sailing for about an hour, keeping quite close to shore, when the Star Fire jammed into something, and there was the sound of breaking wood underneath.
    Peter gritted his teeth as he pulled the tiller in an effort to maneuver the boat into deeper water, but Star Fire did not respond. “Here, take the tiller!” he cried to Trixie, who was sitting next to him. “Let all the lines go slack and pull up the centerboard,” he yelled as he stripped off his T-shirt and dove over the side of the boat.
    “What happened, Peter?” cried Trixie, voicing the distress they all felt.
    “Do you want me to come in, too?” Mart shouted at the same time, but Peter was already in the water and could not hear them.
    In a few minutes, which seemed like hours to the three in the boat, Peter grabbed hold of the side, and, pulling himself halfway up onto the deck, he said, “We’ve hit a big hunk of waterlogged driftwood, and our rudder’s hroken. It’s lucky we didn’t tear a hole in the boat!”
    “Oh, no!” cried Diana. “I simply can’t bear to think of anything happening to Star Fire. ”
    Peter shook the water out of his hair and climbed aboard. “Well, I can always get a new rudder,” he said disconsolately. “It would have been awful to get a hole stove in her side.”
    Mart helped him lift the rudder off the rudder post and lay it on the seat. It was split right through the middle and, quite obviously, was useless.
    Trixie looked to see if she could see Blitzen , but by now Cap was completely out of sight around the point. “Well, that’s that,” she said, half to herself. “What do we do, Peter?”
    Peter noticed how Trixie had said “we” instead of “you” and exclaimed, “By Jove, you’re really