CHAPTER V.

A VISIT OF INSPECTION.

Red Key, on which the Life Saving Station stood, was virtually an island, half sand, half coral reef. It was about one-quarter of a mile in length, very irregular in its general formation, and commanded an extensive sweep of shore,—being one of a group of Keys which are so small that they rarely appear on ordinary maps. Yet it was a fairly important post, one which required the presence of a regular crew on duty at certain seasons of the year.

In addition to the building which housed two surfboats, a big chest full of signal flags, another of rockets, a Lyle gun,—used for shooting coils of rope out to a floundering ship,—and a heavy cart on which the gun could be mounted like a piece of artillery when it was necessary to drag it to another part of the shore,—in addition to this building, there was a small cabin occupied by Peter Anderson, his wife, their son Mark, and their young daughter Ruth, who, however, spent most of the time with her aunt at Santario. The men of the crew were quartered in the loft of the main building, above the beach apparatus, and they took their meals at Anderson’s cabin.

From this loft a steep and narrow staircase led up into a little tower which served as a lookout, and, in case of emergency, as a lighthouse. A big lamp, seldom lighted, hung on chains fastened to the roof of the tower.

All these details the boys learned on their first visit at the station, two days after Hugh’s arrival. Anderson himself took them over the boathouse and explained everything to them, much to their satisfaction. Hugh was impressed with the practical efficiency of such equipment, as well as with the orderly readiness for instant service which marked both the apparatus and the men in charge. Chester admired the boats which were built for contending with the roughest surf, yet capable of being easily managed by the brawny men who wielded the heavy oars. Alec and Billy, glancing at the surf guns or carronades and then at the rows of life-preservers hung upon the walls, expressed a wish that they might some time have a chance to go out in those boats to the rescue of a ship in distress, or, at least, to see the crew in action, even if they should not be permitted to join in the work.

“So you’d like to, eh?” said Anderson, chuckling grimly. “Well, I’ll remember you said so. You may have a chance one of these days,—if there’s not too much danger. Anyway, since you know all about signaling, you might be able to work the flags and communicate with a vessel in distress. Here’s a chart showing the complete flag signal code. Just run your eye over that.”

They did so, and their interest in his explanations made them indifferent to the passing of time. All the while the tide was rising steadily and, before they realized it, they found themselves cut off from the mainland by several feet of rough water which covered the connecting sandbar.

“Here’s a nice fix we’re in!” exclaimed Alec. “What can we do now? Swim ashore?”

“It’s not much of a distance,” observed Chester, measuring it with level gaze. “But the water’s pretty rough, and there’s a strong set toward the ocean. Better not risk it, I say.”

It was quite unusual for Chester to be so cautious. His companions looked at him in surprise.

“I second Chester’s motion,” remarked Billy, who had had quite enough strenuous swimming for the present.

“You certainly are not going to try any fool stunt like that, boys!” declared Anderson. “I know what a current there is through that inlet, and you couldn’t hire me to let you try to swim it! Why, out there,”—he pointed to the nearest extremity of the island,—“is what is called a sea puss, a place where cross currents meet and form a whirlpool at mid-tide. It would swallow you up before you could guess what had happened to you! No, sirree! Here you’ll stay until low tide again. Do your folks know you came over here to-day?”

“Oh, yes; I told them,” Alec answered.

“All right, then; they won’t be worried. If you hadn’t told them, I’d get out a boat and take you over, but——”

“We’d hate to give you that trouble,” said Hugh. “Besides, we’re not a bit sorry to stay here in this interesting place; that is, if you don’t mind. We’re not in the way?”

“Not a bit of it! The boys’ll be glad of your company. Sorry that Mark and Ruth are away, though. You’ll be marooned here twelve hours. That means all night, as it’s four o’clock now. Well, never mind. I guess we can put you up for the night, if you’re not too particular, and the missus can rustle enough grub for us all.”

“Thanks, ever so much,” said Alec and Billy, almost in one breath, and Hugh added: “It’s mighty good of you, Captain Anderson.” He was much pleased with the hospitable captain’s “us all.” It seemed to include all four boys in a fellowship with the crew of life-savers, for whom the young scouts had begun to feel a genuine liking and respect.

“I guess you boys can find enough to do to amuse yourselves till supper time,” the keeper continued. “If you want to, you can go out with the beach patrols.”

“Are they going over to the mainland?”

“No, not this afternoon. I guess it won’t be necessary,” said Anderson, gazing up into the leaden sky. “It’s pretty windy, to be sure; but unless this wind shifts to the northeast, all they’ll need to do, until dark, will be to cross from one key to another, and so on down for quite a long way.”

“How will they cross?”

“We keep a dory at each end of Red Key, and there’s a small pontoon bridge connecting that point out yonder with the Key just beyond it. Beyond this end of Red Key”—he turned around and pointed in a new direction—“the Keys are so near together you can wade from one to another, if you wear oilskins and if the tide isn’t full. Run along now, and tell Downs and Baley that you’d like to make the beat with them.”

With a joyous whoop, showing that the captain’s suggestion had met with instant favor, the four scouts dashed away to find the men.

Jim Downs and Fred Baley—Surfman Four and Six, respectively—were more than willing to “tote the youngsters” with them, as Jim said. They would not start out until sunset, so there was an interval of impatient waiting. To while away the time, Surfman Three, a genial young Irishman named Larry Flynn, proposed a series of track games between the crew and their visitors. Larry prided himself on his speed in the quarter-mile, and his mates—all but Baley and Downs, who had to hold themselves fresh for their coming duties—were prompt to respond to the call of play.

In the good-natured competition that followed, Alec captured the hundred-yard dash; Hugh and Larry actually tied in the quarter-mile; while Surfman Five, a tall, lanky, muscular fellow named Culver, won the broad-jump, in which all took part. Billy easily carried off a hurdle race,—the improvised hurdles were chairs with boards laid upon their backs,—and Chester distinguished himself in the high-jump, his chief rivals being Culver and Hugh. When it came to the weights, the boys had very little chance against the larger and brawnier men, and Frank Bowers, Surfman One, threw the hammer several feet farther than anyone. He was as skilful with his left hand as with his right.

“Frank is our best all-round athlete,” said Surfman Two, addressing the captain.

“You’re a fairly husky one, yourself, Ed,” returned Anderson, slapping him on the back. “It isn’t everyone can pull stroke oar in a lifeboat as steady and strong as you.”

The games over, all repaired to the loft, where Mrs. Anderson helped them arrange “a couple o’ shake-downs” for the visitors. Bowers then took his station in the lookout, Hugh and Chester remaining with him to hear his interesting accounts of bygone wrecks and rescues, while Alec and Billy studied maps and charts downstairs. They were full of enthusiasm for the proposed sailing trip down the coast, and they wanted to become familiar with the shore line, the bays, inlets, keys, etc.

About six o’clock the jangling of a metal gong, which hung outside Mrs. Anderson’s kitchen, summoned the crew to supper. True to the scout principle of being helpful and useful whenever they could, the four boys insisted on helping Mrs. Anderson and her aged colored cook serve the wholesome meal, though she would fain have treated them as guests.

“It’s great fun!” they declared. “We’re having the time of our lives!”

After supper they returned to the boathouse.

With the setting of the sun there was a lull in the wind, but when Baley and Downs started out, at seven o’clock, on their four hours’ tour of duty, it had risen again and was blowing with renewed force—but still not from the northeast. Alec and Chester, the two Otters, accompanied Baley; while the Wolves, Hugh and Billy, went with Downs. Thus they set forth in the long twilight, laughing and talking, thrilled with this new adventure, unaware of the danger and disaster that loomed large in the immediate future.