hese outlying fringes of the
Bahamas, that the native wrecker--the one who lives by robbery and
loot--can still be found. In the old days, a decoy light was a regular
thing. There were organizations that had offices in the cities, who used
to make a business of this wrecking. Barnegat, New Jersey, was a famous
point in the first part of last century. All the inhabitants were in
league with the wreckers, there. Many and many a good vessel, in the
early days of American shipping, was lured directly on to the
treacherous beach, while the wreckers looted everything they could get,
and plundered the passengers and crew. That's all done away with now.
The United States coast is too thoroughly patrolled by the Coast Guard
for any such business as that to flourish.

"I think the Wolf Rock story is perhaps the best example of the idea of
deliberately wrecking vessels. You've heard of Wolf Rock?"

"Yes, sir," said the boy, "it's in the English Channel, off the coast of
Devonshire."

"Did you ever hear why that particular rock was called Wolf Rock?"

"No, sir," answered Eric, "I don't think I ever did. Is it because of
the shape of it, or because the sea breaking over it is like the fangs
of a wolf or something like that? There generally isn't an awful lot of
reason for the names of rocks and reefs."

"There is for this one," said his friend. "It isn't because it looks
like a wolf, but because it howls like a wolf."

"You mean the fog-horn does?"

"No, I mean the rock does, or did," was the reply.

"How?"

"You've heard of blow-holes?"

"Yes, sir," said Eric, "there's one at the Farallones Islands. You mean
those holes that make a noise when the tide comes in and out?"

"That's the idea. The Wolf Rock was a most famous case of that. It had a
large cavern inside and a very small hole through the rock at the
ceiling of the cavern. Then there was a cleft or fissure through the
rock right down to this little hole. You can see for yourself that when
the tide started to come in, it closed the sea entrance to the cavern,
imprisoning a lot of air. Then, as the tide rose steadily, the pressure
of the water drove the air out of the cavern through this little hole,
continually making an intermittent blowing sound. The great cleft in the
rock acted like the horn of an immense megaphone. This gave rise to a
roar, high-pitched--owing to the smallness of the hole--like a wolf's
howl. Night and day, but more especially when the tide