CHAPTER VII.

THE STRANDED SCHOONER.

“It’s lucky we went across to the mainland last week for a fresh supply o’ provisions,” remarked Larry Flynn at breakfast that morning. “I’m as hungry as a tinker’s goat, and them lads can stow away enough fodder for a whole regiment of——”

His jocularity was interrupted by a laugh from the men, and then by a strange and sinister sound. Beneath the howl of the wind could be heard a dull booming, so foreign to anything the gale brought to their ears that even Captain Anderson sprang from his seat at table and ran to the window in alarm.

It was useless. The fog was so thick he could not see further than twenty feet. The gray light of day had dispelled the darkness, but the vapor rolling in from the ocean obscured even the crests of the surf. Culver and Ed Strong joined him at the window, and all three remained silent and motionless.

“Never dreamed she’d run aground this morning,” Bowers muttered, rising from his chair. “Everybody thought she’d slip past the bar.”

“There was only a slim chance, after all,” said Downs.

“Has the ship struck?” asked Hugh, tense with excitement.

Keeper Anderson nodded.

“Seems so,” he replied gravely. “Get to work, boys!”

All hurried out of the cabin.

Then came that which they feared to hear: another dull report brought on the wings of the wind and fog. All doubt now vanished from the minds of the crew.

“Saints help ’em!” Larry exclaimed fervently, when they entered the boathouse. He began to pace the floor impatiently as he worked like a hound in leash.

“Help who, sir?” asked Chester, following him.

“The poor divils who are firin’ that ’ere gun, knowin’ there’s some one near who can lind ’em a helpin’ hand.”

“Do you mean that there’s a wreck?” Alec queried in a tone so low that none save Captain Anderson heard him.

“Ay, son,” he answered. “The craft, whatever she may be, has run aground on the bar.”

“How can you tell without seeing her, sir?” Billy inquired, wishing that he knew enough to lend a hand with the boat.

“In the first place, she must be there because the wind brings us the sound of her signal gun; she might be only half as far away on the other side, and we couldn’t hear it so loud.”

“It seems to me that any half-sober skipper would have been more careful!” declared Culver reproachfully, pulling on his oilskins. “He would have clawed off shore at sunset last night, if he knew his way.”

“What do you count on doing now?” asked Hugh, always ready for action.

“We’re going to launch the boats!” roared Anderson, and even before the words were uttered every man, equipped for the venture, sprang to his appointed task.

The crew ran the ever-ready surf boat through the double doors of its house and down an inclined plane to the beach. Resting in a carriage provided with a pair of broad-tired wheels, the staunch craft was hauled by Powers and Flynn and the four boys through the clinging sand and into the very teeth of the wind to the point nearest the vessel.

“Can we go out with you?” yelled Hugh excitedly.

The surf rolled in with a deafening roar that seemed to shake the ground, drowning the sound of his voice. No one paid the slightest attention to the eager lads; the men were too busy and too deeply concerned with the grave task ahead of them to heed, even had they heard Hugh’s request. It was but natural and right; and Hugh was surprised only at his daring to ask such permission. Nevertheless, he was keen to share the danger; he longed to be one of the rescuers.

Each breaker curved high above the heads of the men, and, receding, the undertow sucked at their feet and tried to drag them down. In such surf it seemed impossible to launch a boat; yet with scarcely a word of command, every man, knowing from long practice his position and duties, took his station beside the boat and, shoving it directly into the surf, launched it, after a severe tussle. Climbing aboard, each man took his place. The captain, grasping a long steering oar in his hands, stood at the stern.

It was then that Anderson, glancing at the crew who were pulling steadily, saw that Alec and Hugh, carried away by their eager excitement, had leaped into the boat with the others and were adding their strength to that of two oarsmen.

A dark frown furrowed his brow, for he could not approve of this intrusion; the next moment, however, he gave a short, grim laugh.

“They’ll have to take their chance with the rest of us,” he said to himself. “And, unless the worst happens, nobody’ll ever know about their doing this. Confound the plucky young chumps, they ought to have stayed on shore; but they’re as venturesome as my Mark!”

With a sweep of his oar, he kept the boat’s head to the seas, skilfully avoiding the most dangerous crests. To do this required strength, coolness, and judgment; but Anderson possessed all three qualities to a remarkable degree. Instinctively, the two boys had placed themselves so that the weight in the boat was evenly balanced, and this fact the steersman was quick to notice.

At last the first watery rampart was crossed. Then, adapting their stroke to heavier swells, the six stalwart rowers propelled their twenty-five-foot, unsinkable boat at good speed, although it seemed dreadfully slow to them, no doubt. Hugh thought of the crew of the stranded vessel, which was now plainly visible, now hidden behind a veil of fog with every gust of wind. Were they helpless and hopeless, he wondered, or were they taking heart at the assurance that help was coming?

All of a sudden, Anderson noticed that the two boys had not donned cork jackets, such as the men had buckled on.

“Here, you crazy scamps!” he shouted. “Put on those lifebelts!” And he pointed to some that were fastened to the inside of the boat.

They obeyed him at once, awed by his furious tone. Perhaps they had done wrong, after all, in coming out in the lifeboat! They began to repent of their rashness; though they felt no fear; it was an opportunity, an adventure such as might never again come into their lives. At any rate, it was too late for repentance! There they were, rowing like mad with all their strength and enthusiasm! If only Captain Anderson would not be too angry with them afterward when it was over!

Over! The adventure had only begun! How would it end?

Once, indeed, a thought of his parents flashed into Alec’s mind. He could imagine his father’s wrath if this perilous escapade should become known! But Hugh would never tell, and as for himself—here a wave dashed up over the thwart, drenching him in a fountain of foam.

And now, when they were actually nearing the vessel, an unforeseen mischance occurred. Before the surfboat could reach her, she lurched over the bar on a mightier wave, veered halfway around, and drove directly toward Turtle Island. The crew in the boat could do nothing, and the few men aboard the schooner were helpless. With straining eyes, the lifesavers saw the vessel drift rapidly past them; they even heard shouts and frantic yells from the deck, and, in return, they shouted encouragement.

Climbing up into the rigging, the sailors, eight in number, waited for their craft to strike the beach. The surfmen, turning their boat, put for shore again to get the apparatus needed for the new situation.