He shouted in his joy, and threw on more wood.

If he could only build that pyramid high enough they would see the opening too and make for it.
He worked frantically, throwing on driftwood, the accumulation of many years, and the flames biting into every fresh log, roared and leaped higher.

The ship ceased to fire her signal guns, and now he saw, with a great surge of joy, that she was beating up in the storm and trying for the opening in the reef, her only chance, the chance that he had given her.

He had done his part and he could do no more but feed the fire.
As he threw on wood he watched.

His pyramid of flame roared and threw out sparks in myriads.