The story told by the stranger did not differ materially from that which the cook had imagined after seeing the overturned gunning-skiff.
The young gentleman, Francis P. Bradford by name, had been paddling around the shore, keeping well within the shadow of the rocks in the hope of getting a good bag of wild ducks when they settled upon the water at sunset. He had begun the voyagefrom a point two miles or more distant, and approached in such manner that the men who were on watch could not have seen him.
The shallow skiff, which Sam Hardy declared very emphatically “was little better than an egg-shell,” had run upon a submerged rock, and, the swell arising at that instant, overset her, throwing the sportsman into the water.
Encumbered as he was by heavy clothing, and being by no means a skilful swimmer, the sportsman could do no more than keep himself afloat, while the boat was driven by the wind farther and farther from the shore.
Knowing that a life-saving station was near at hand, he shouted for help; but, as has been said, it was impossible to make any very loud outcry, and, rapidly becoming exhausted, he believed death was inevitable until there suddenly appeared on the bluff, to use his own words, “what looked to be a ball of white cotton blown along by the wind.”
“I had no idea it was a dog,” he said continuing the story, “until the fluffy object straightened itself out and began barking shrilly. I am certain the little fellow understood my plight, for when some person called him he ran back a few paces, and then returned yelping and howling until one would have said there was danger the volume of sound would cause him to explode like an overcharged boiler.”
Benny’s eyes sparkled with delight as young Bradford continued to praise Fluff; but an expression of dissatisfaction came over his face when the sportsman declared his intention of leaving with Keeper Downey a sum of money to be expended in purchasing food and dainties for the animal that had been the means of saving his life.
“What’s the matter, Benny?” Sam asked, noting the look on the boy’s face.
“It won’t do at all, sir,” and Benny spoke very decidedly. “Fluff wouldn’t like to be paid for such a thing as that, I’m certain, and besides, if, as Mr. Cushing says, he is a member of the crew, then it’s his business to save life if he can, without thinking of taking money for it.”
“I’ll guarantee that the idea of money never came into Fluff C. Foster’s head!” Sam Hardy cried, laughing heartily. “You see, lad, what Mr. Bradford proposes is to give the dog a reward, and that any life-saver is entitled to if it be offered voluntarily.”
“It would please me if the gentleman wouldn’t leave money for Fluff,” Benny insisted. “It don’t seem right to take it for doing anything of the kind.”
From that moment Mr. Bradford ceased to press the matter; but later in the evening he had a long conversation with Tom Downey, and those whoaccidentally overheard scraps of the conversation understood that the keeper was telling Benny’s pitiful story.
Fluff was not interested in anything which was taking place around him. The feast of sugar which Joe Cushing had set out was so tempting and so delicious that he gave heed to nothing else.
When the sweet repast had come to an end, however, the dog was petted by first one and then another of the crew as he had never been before, and Benny said laughingly, as he took the little fellow in his arms fully half an hour before the usual time for retiring.
“Fluff will grow so proud that he’ll be spoiled if all hands praise him in this fashion. He’d better go to bed, and I’ll make him understand that it was no more than his duty to bark when he saw Mr. Bradford in the water.”
Then the boy and the dog disappeared for the night, and after he had left the room the life savers and their guest held a long consultation of a business nature, which was to be kept a profound secret from Benny and Fluff until all the details had been carried into effect.
On the following morning immediately after breakfast, Mr. Bradford left the station for the purpose of hiring some one of the farmers nearby to carry him into the city.
Very gravely he thanked Benny for the great service which had been rendered him by Fluff, urging the boy to promise that he would apply to him if at any time in the future he should need assistance.
To this the lad agreed, and when the gentleman had taken his departure said confidentially to Sam Hardy:
“If Fluff and I are to be surfmen we shan’t be obliged to beg from anyone, and I’d a good deal rather earn what we need than have it given us.”
“Well, lad, it shall go your way, and I like the idea you’ve got in mind. Whether you and Fluff will be able to cut much of a figure as surfmen is a matter which needn’t trouble us just now, for I’ll guarantee you don’t come to want while this crew holds together.”
Benny went about his regular duties as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and Fluff, believing himself safe from any attack by Maje, ran to and fro over the snow-covered rocks until his pink feet were chilled by the frost, when he returned and, standing before his master, held up first one and then the other with a low whine which told of his discomfort.
The cook placed a chair near the stove, and, despite Benny’s protestations, insisted that Fluff should occupy it whenever he had been so foolish as to stay out of doors until thoroughly chilled.
“You have no business to play on the rocks while it is so cold,” Benny said reprovingly, addressing himself to the dog.
“It’s the nature of dogs and boys to be foolish at times, Benny, and since they can’t be expected to have better sense we must do whatever we can to repair the mischief. Therefore Fluff C. Foster sits right there until he’s comfortable once more. There’s nothing to be done around the kitchen for the next two or three hours, and seein’ how you and the dog are bent on being surfmen, now is the chance to learn the duties of a crew when there’s a wreck off shore, as in the case of theThree Brothers. Every man needs have in his head the manœuvres to be performed at such a time, and it’s all set down here in the regulations under the head of ‘Station Bill.’”
“What do you mean by that, sir?” Benny asked as he took the book from the cook’s outstretched hand.
“It shows the station of each man after the beach-wagon is on the shore ready for business. You know that every member of the crew has a number. Sam Hardy is 1; Joe Cushing, 2; Robbins, 3; Sawyer, 4, and so on. Here, under the same numbers that the men answer to, is set down exactly what must be done, with a few remarks to follow. Now, since all that must be repeated at drill, itwould be a good idea if you stowed it away in your head.”
Benny began to read eagerly, understanding that if he had been familiar with all this information when theThree Brotherswent ashore he possibly might have been of more assistance, and until the cook called him to assist in the work of preparing dinner he read and re-read the following lines:
“No. 1. Place gun in position; provide and load with shot; train the gun; bend the shot-line around the whip inside block; tend the left part of the whip; hold the hawser for No. 2 to bend on the whip; overhaul back of the whip, and, if to leeward, unbend ends and bend outer end into traveller-block; if to windward, snap traveller-block onto hawser, and bend outer end of whip into traveller-block; man fall and left leg of crotch.
“No. 2. Place shot-line box in position; bend shot-line into shot; train the gun; take a half-hitch with shot-line over tail of whip-block; tend right part of whip; bend the lee part of whip onto hawser; overhaul back whip, and, if to leeward, unbend ends and bend inner end into traveller-block; if to windward, snap traveller-block onto hawser and bend inner end of whip into travelling-block; man fall and right leg of crotch.
“No. 3. Place shot-line box in position; stretch tackle (outer block); haul left part of whip fromreel; if to windward, reeve end of whip through sand-anchor block; otherwise, bend ends of whip together; man weather part of whip when sending off the hawser; haul in slack of hawser; put on strap for outer block of tackle; man fall, left leg of crotch, and am shifting man on the whip.
“No. 4. Unload buoy from cart; place crotch, hawser, and buoy in position; stretch tackle (inner block); haul right part of whip from reel; if to windward, reeve end of whip through sand-anchor block; otherwise, bend ends of whip together; man weather part of whip when sending off the hawser; haul in slack of hawser; hook on outer block of tackle; man fall, right leg of crotch, and am shifting man on the whip.
“No. 5. Unload and bury sand-anchor; man the weather part of whip when overhauling off the reel and sending off the hawser; haul in the slack of the hawser and make a cat’s-paw in the end; man fall; belay fall, and am shifting man on the whip.
“No. 6. Unload and bury sand-anchor; man the weather part of the whip when overhauling off the reel; lighten the hawser to captain; snatch bight of hawser into sand-anchor block; haul in slack of hawser; hook inner block of tackle into cat’s-paw; man fall, centre of crotch, and am shifting man on the whip.
“No. 7. Unload shovel and pick; assist to burysand-anchor; man the weather part of whip when overhauling off the reel and sending off the hawser; haul in slack of hawser; man fall, centre of crotch, and am shifting man on the whip.
“The exercise must be considered as a whole, and when a man has performed one duty he will proceed to execute the next assigned him. All must work together. While the captain, 1, and 2 are opening communication with the gun and shot-line, 3, 4, 5, and 6 will have the hawser and its connections ready for sending off and hauling taut.
“When practising, as soon as the gun is discharged, 6 will go to the pole representing the wreck and haul off and make fast the whip and hawser; unless some other person willing to perform that duty is present, 4 throws the buoy off the cart that it may not interfere with removing the gun from the cart.
“If through carelessness the shot-line has been faked too tightly upon the pins, instead of forcing it off the pins by the bottom board, which is liable to split, raise the frame and remove a few of the bottom fakes with the hand, when the remainder will fall off into its place in the box.
“The sand-anchor must be opened, its sides at right angles to each other, and buried upon its flat in a narrow trench of sufficient depth, say two feet, and the trench filled in solidly about the anchor.
“In many instances, after communication is made with the wreck, as many as two or three hundred yards of shot-line will be left in the box. The captain must be governed by circumstances as to the best method of handling the surplus line. If there is no danger of the wreck going to pieces, spare line may be hauled on board the wreck, the shore end being bent around the whip; but where great haste is necessary it must be cut.
“Bending the bight of the shot-line around the whip is not recommended, as the portion inshore is liable to foul the whip.
“Cases may occur when, instead of unreeling the whole whip from the reel, both parts of the whip must be cut as soon as the whip-block is fast on board the wreck. Keepers must act with promptness in such cases, remembering that everything must be sacrificed to save life.
“The point where the hawser is bent into the ship must be as far as possible outside of where the ends of the whip are bent together, in order that when the hawser reaches the wreck the whip bend will be well inshore, out of the reach of the shipwrecked people, for should they, through excitement or ignorance, cast that off instead of the hawser, communication would be broken and much delay result.
“The whip should be worked moderately slack,unless extreme cold or drifting ice makes it necessary that it should be kept out of the water.
“Instances may occur when the wreck is breaking up rapidly, and there is not sufficient time to send off the whip and hawser, or the crew are too much exhausted to haul the gear off. In such cases, after communication is made by means of the shot-line, cut the shot-line, and bend the shore end onto a single part of the whip; when the end of the whip has reached the wreck, bend the bight of the whip into the slings of the buoy (block removed), and let the buoy be pulled off through the surf to the wreck.”
Benny was an apt pupil, and before nightfall could repeat word for word more than one-half of the Station Bill. It was his purpose to commit it all to memory, but he was interrupted in the task late in the afternoon by the return of Joe Cushing from the post-office, and it was such a noisy home-coming that every member of the crew knew what he brought.
All save the lookout were in the building engaged upon various trifling duties, when a series of yells from the outside brought the men to their feet, and Sam Hardy cried:
“That’s Joe Cushing! He’s brought the mail, and you can count for a certainty that in it is the answer from headquarters in regard to Benny.”
Even Keeper Downey found it difficult to remain calm, for that Sam had guessed correctly could be told by the Indian yells to which Joe was giving vent, and it is little wonder that the crew, instead of waiting for his entrance, went to the door to meet him, realizing as they did that in a few moments would be known the views of the Superintendent regarding the taking on of this new member.
Joe was coming at full speed, holding high above his head the official-looking envelope, and, as if believing his comrades had not been warned regarding the importance of what he brought, he shouted:
“Here’s the answer from the Department! It has been about as much as I could do to keep myself from opening it.”
Tom Downey stretched out his hand, and there was just a shadow of anxiety to be seen on his face as he took the missive.
The crew gathered around him; but Benny, trembling with apprehension, stood a short distance away holding Fluff in his arms.
“If it should be that we’ve got to go away now when things are fixed so nice, we’d be awful sorry, Fluffy; but we’ll try not to let the crew know we’re feeling bad,” he whispered to the dog while keeping his eyes fixed upon Sam Hardy.
Tom Downey was too impatient to permit of his reading carefully the communication from the Chiefof the Service. He first glanced quickly over the letter, catching a word here and there, until understanding the proposition, when he cried joyously:
“It’s all right, boys! Benny’s entitled to stay here so long as we pay his bills!”
“I knew the Superintendent wasn’t the kind of a man that would turn a cold shoulder on a lad like him,” Sam Hardy said approvingly; and patting Benny on the head, he added, “Now, lad, you’re regularly one of us, seein’ how you’re here by authority, an’ I’ll venture to say that before spring comes you’ll have the drill at your tongue and fingers’ ends with the best of us.”
Benny, burying his face in Fluff’s silken hair, whispered to the dog:
“We’re awful lucky, Fluff, and we’ll make sure the crew won’t feel sorry because of helping us.”
“Ain’t crying when good news has come, are you, lad?” Sam asked, raising the boy’s chin until he could look into his face.
“Indeed, I’m not, Mr. Hardy. I just wanted to remind Fluff so he’d never forget it, that we was bound to work mighty hard to pay all hands of you for being so good.”
“I reckon that part of it will be all right, my son. We’re gettin’ full value for all we give.”
That which added to Benny’s pleasure was thefact that from the keeper to the cook, every member of the crew exhibited the liveliest joy because he was allowed to remain at the station, and an evening never to be forgotten by the lad was this which followed the receipt of the letter from headquarters.
Half a dozen times over was Tom Downey called upon to read the communication from their Chief, and if it be true that a person’s right ear tingles when good is spoken of them, the Superintendent of the Life-Saving Service must have been surprised because of the warmth of that organ.
Even amid the general rejoicing Benny found opportunity to study theRegulationsand observing him at this work Sam Hardy proposed that Keeper Downey write an additional paragraph to the Station Bill.
“Benny must have a regular duty, and we’ll call him No. 8. Set down exactly what part he is to play, an’ let him learn it with the rest.”
That night when Benny, with Fluff in his arms, stood on the threshold to bid his kindly guardians a “good-night,” all hands replied in concert:
“Good-night, No. 8.”
“That means Fluff as well as me,” Benny cried with a laugh, and as he laid down to sleep that night “No. 8” was an exceedingly happy boy.
On the following morning Benny had a seriousproposition to make Sam Hardy, and after his portion of the morning’s work had been done he called the surfman aside.
“I want to ask a favor of you, Mr. Hardy.”
“Well, lad, what is it?”
“All hands call me No. 8, so that proves I’m regularly one of the crew, don’t it?”
“Of course it does, Benny.”
“Then I should have some regular work.”
“So you have, my lad. You’re doin’ as much now as the cook, an’ some of the boys are beginnin’ to think you can take his place next season.”
“My work in the kitchen don’t count. It’s only enough to take up the spare time. What I mean is, I ought to have a share in all that the crew does.”
“What are you drivin’ at, Benny? Suppose you talk it right out plain, an’ then I’ll understand the quicker.”
“It’s this, Mr. Hardy: I want to go on patrol duty with you every night, no matter what time you start out.”
“Now look here, Benny, there are some nights when that’s precious hard work, and almost any time in the winter it’s no joke to turn out, say about midnight, an’ walk this blooming shore four hours.”
“I know that, sir; but yet it will toughen me todo it, and after a spell I won’t mind it any more’n you do.”
“But what’s your idea in doin’ such work?”
“I want to grow into so much of a surfman that I can see at night the same as you do. When theThree Brotherswas sighted I couldn’t make her out at all.”
“It’s trainin’ your eyes you’re after, eh?”
“Yes, sir, perhaps that’s what you could call it.”
“Well, I’ll talk with Downey, and see what he thinks of the scheme, although I’m willing to say right up an’ down now that I don’t just like it. The job is too rough for a little chap like you.”
“I must get hardened to bad weather, and the cold, and all that sort of thing if I’m goin’ to stay in the life-saving service.”
Sam turned away with a laugh, and not until evening did he make any reply to the request.
Then, when the hour was near at hand for him to go on patrol, he said, speaking to all hands, including Fluff’s master:
“Benny claims the right to do patrol duty, if he’s No. 8 in this ’ere crew, an’ the keeper has given permission for him to act as my apprentice, exceptin’ when the weather is too rough. Therefore, Mr. Benjamin H. Foster, you’ll make ready for a four hours’ turn, and the thermometer is standin’ well down to zero. If this night’s work don’t give youa different idea of what it’s fitting a lad should do; then I’ll say there’ll be no use in our tryin’ to keep you out of the Service.”
If Benny suffered from the cold during this four hours’ tramp, Sam Hardy was none the wiser regarding it, for he held the pace regardless of rough ways or banks of snow, plodding sturdily by the surfman’s side throughout the entire time. But it was observed by Sam Hardy that on their return to the station he went immediately to bed, and next morning, in relating the experiences of the previous night to the keeper privately, Sam added:
“He’s all grit, that lad is, an’ when he’s older grown I allow he’ll be an ornament to this ’ere station.”
The cook declared, after dinner had been eaten and the apartments set to rights, that it was necessary for Keeper Downey to issue a positive order preventing No. 8 from doing more than his share of the work, and Benny, his face crimsoning with pleasure, would have turned the conversation into some other channel.
“I mean what I say,” the cook added emphatically. “There’s to be a regular Kitchen Station Bill made out for you, else before many days I’ll find myself idle. So let it be understood, No. 8, that you’re only to do so much of the work as belongs to your part, and in the future you and FluffC. Foster will have longer loafin’ spells. If you study theRegulationsafter dark, I reckon it will be enough.”
Tom Downey had begun questioning the cook as to what share of the work Benny really did, when the noise of bells was heard outside, and a moment later came a knock at the door followed almost immediately by the entrance of Mr. Bradford—he whom, as the crew claimed, Fluff had rescued from drowning.
He greeted the men cheerily; had a kindly word for Benny; but took Fluff in his arms petting him affectionately.
“I wasn’t satisfied with leaving matters as they were day before yesterday, so far as this little fellow was concerned,” he said, addressing himself to Keeper Downey. “But for the dog I should have been drowned, and as Benny refused me the satisfaction of repaying Fluff, I claim the right to bestow upon him what the government would award either of you for a timely rescue of life.”
While speaking he had drawn from his pocket a daintily fashioned silver collar to which was attached a small gold token.
“It is a medal of honor made from a coin, and inscribed: ‘To Fluff C. Foster for having saved the life of Francis P. Bradford, January 2, 1894.’ That much I am entitled to give, regardless of what thedog’s master may think, and I only hope it may be in my power at some future time to bestow upon Benny a more substantial token of regard.”
Mr. Bradford handed the collar and medal to the boy as he ceased speaking, and the latter gazed alternately at the gift and the dog, who was sitting bolt upright on his hind legs as if begging to be told the cause of this sudden commotion.
“Well?” Sam Hardy said interrogatively as Benny remained silent. “Well, No. 8, ain’t there anything more to it? The dog is coaxin’ you to thank the gentleman.”
“I know he is, Mr. Hardy; but how can I do it?” Benny replied with a long-drawn sigh of delight. “It’s splendid, though it ain’t none too good for a dog like Fluff, an’ I’d rather he’d have this than all the money in the world. Just to think!” and the lad turned to address the entire crew. “Fluff has got a regular life-saving medal.”
“It’s a big thing,” Keeper Downey replied with a nod of satisfaction, “an’, what’s more, Fluff is the only one of this crew that has won such a distinction.”
“If anything was needed, after the letter from the Superintendent, to show that he an’ I were members of the crew, this would be enough, wouldn’t it?”
“It’s as good as a commission from the Treasury Department,” Joe Cushing replied gravely.
“If you would like to make the change, I can buy you something, instead of spending so much money for the dog,” Mr. Bradford said, with a meaning glance at the men. “It will be an easy matter to exchange the collar and medal for cheaper metal, and give you the difference.”
“Take this away from Fluff?” Benny cried in alarm. “Why, I wouldn’t have it done for the world! Now I’m a regular member of this crew I don’t need anything, an’ even if I did, he should have the best, because he’s the one who saved your life, an’ I’ll get a heap of pleasure out of looking at it.”
“I have also sent out here ten pounds of sugar in lumps, so that you may remind him of me at least once every day,” Mr. Bradford said, apparently getting as much pleasure out of the presentation as did Benny, “and because of thus rewarding Fluff, I want you to do me a favor.”
“What is it, sir?” Benny asked in surprise.
“I want the privilege of giving you a full suit of clothes. Here is an order on a tailor, who will make whatever you may decide upon.”
While speaking the gentleman had pressed into Benny’s hand a slip of paper, and before the lad could reply Sam Hardy cried in delight:
“Of course No. 8 will do you the favor of takin’ it, an’, what’s more, it’s a mighty lucky thing forhim. Here he has just been made a member of the crew, but hasn’t got a uniform to wear when he goes into the city. That order, Mr. Bradford, is just the ticket, and with Fluff C. Foster rigged out in a solid silver collar with a gold medal of honor, and Benjamin H. Foster in a regulation suit, brass buttons an’ all, this ’ere station will blossom out in regular shape.”
Benny was won by the idea of wearing a uniform like his comrades; but he looked toward Mr. Downey as if asking his permission to accept the gift.
“Take it, my lad, and thank the gentleman by so doing,” the keeper said with a smile. “What’s more, you shall go into the city with Sam Hardy to-morrow morning and be measured for the uniform.”
There was a wondrously bright gleam in Benny’s eyes as, taking the dog suddenly in his arms, he said to the generous visitor:
“We thank you awfully much, Mr. Bradford, an’ you may be sure Fluff will never do anything to make you ashamed of having given him such a beautiful collar and medal.”
Mr. Bradford was in no haste to return home on this evening when he had decorated Fluff and provided Benny with the means of getting a uniform.
He had come to assure the crew that he fully appreciated the discipline and prompt attention to duty which made possible his rescue, for had thirty seconds been wasted after Sam Hardy’s summons, the boat would have arrived too late.
“I never before fully realized the value of life-saving stations or the heroism of life-saving crews,” he said, addressing Keeper Downey. “Perhaps it was because I never knew what perfection of discipline and drill was to be found among the men. I have often wondered why this service should be under the supervision of the Treasury Department, when one would naturally expect it to be a branch of the navy.”
“The reason is, Mr. Bradford, that a deep-water sailor, as a rule, knows very little about surf work,” Tom Downey replied quickly, and with considerable warmth. “You will find that among all the mariners we aid, no more than one out of every hundred has had any experience in making a landing on a shore like this when the water is rough, and it’s not to be expected of them. The life-saving service is recruited from shore fishermen—men who are accustomed to going back and forth through the surf in all kinds of weather. Put the best sailor that ever jockeyed a spar into our surf-boat, and he’d be out of his element, as you can well understand. Therefore the life-saving service is really the duty of landsmen, and has nothing to do with such as the navy would be forced to employ.”
Before the visitor could reply Sam Hardy began making preparations to go on patrol, and Benny felt it his duty to accompany him, particularly after having begged permission to share the labor, although he was eager to hear the remainder of the conversation.
“There’s no need for you to go out this night, Benjamin, and I think you are called on to stay here till Mr. Bradford leaves,” Sam said, observing the expression on the boy’s face.
No. 8 had no idea of allowing inclination to interfere with the duties he had assumed, especially now that he had considered himself a regularly enrolled member of the crew.
“Mr. Bradford knows that somebody must go on patrol, and I’ll never be trusted alone if I don’t hurry up with the learning,” Benny replied promptly, putting on the pea-jacket and sou’wester Joe Cushing had given him.
“You will come and see me to-morrow?” the visitor asked, and Sam replied for the lad:
“You can count on his givin’ you a call, Mr. Bradford, although we won’t have overly much time to spend in neighboring.”
Then the two shook hands with the gentleman, and went out into the night on their errand of mercy.
Benny was unusually quiet as they walked along the bluffs, glancing from time to time over the placid waters illumined by the moon, and after ten minutes or more had passed in silence Sam asked:
“What has gone wrong with you, No. 8? Ain’t a solid silver collar rich enough for Fluff C. Foster, or did you think the medal might have been bigger?”
“I’d be terribly ashamed of myself to think anything like that, Mr. Hardy. Of course the collar and medal ain’t any better than Fluff deserves; but they’re a good deal nicer than I ever thought he’d get, and it makes me feel fine to think of his having them.”
“Then what is keepin’ you so glum? You haven’t opened your mouth since we left the station.”
“That is ’cause I’ve been thinking.”
“About what, No. 8?”
“I’m afraid I shan’t do enough, and that the crew will find out I ain’t coming up to the praise I’m getting. Everybody has been so good to me since the ship was wrecked, that I can’t even begin to pay it back.”
“There isn’t any danger so long as you have such thoughts in your head, Benjamin. I don’t believe in praisin’ boys, as a general thing, because it’s apt to spoil ’em; but you don’t seem to be one of that kind. Keep on as you’ve started, No. 8, and I guarantee all hands of us will be satisfied.”
Then Sam Hardy told Benny of a boy who had been saved from a wreck two years previous, and who was anything rather than an agreeable companion, following this story with another, until the four hours passed so quickly that it seemed to No. 8 as if they had not been on duty one quarter of the required time.
Mr. Bradford had started for home nearly two hours before Benny and Sam came in, their night’s work finished, and no one except Fluff was awake.
He greeted them with his shrill barking, which Benny checked quickly lest the others should be awakened, and when the two whose time for duty had come were aroused, Sam whispered:
“Now we’ll turn in, No. 8, and see to it thatyou’re up bright and early to-morrow. You’re not to do any work in the kitchen, but will eat breakfast with the crew, so that we shan’t be delayed in setting out.”
Benny did not obey this command strictly. Next morning when the cook slipped out of bed softly to avoid disturbing the others, the lad heard and followed him without delay.
“You could have had a good half-hour’s sleep before breakfast will be ready, No. 8.”
“Yes, sir; but I wouldn’t have done my share of the work here,” Benny replied hesitatingly, for the cook had spoken sharply.
“Members of the crew who have a day’s liberty are not expected to do anything around the station, and you’re down for leave of absence from midnight.”
“That’s no reason why I shouldn’t do what I can before we leave,” Benny replied stoutly as he set about the usual morning duties, and until breakfast was on the table he insisted upon aiding the cook.
Then Sam sternly ordered him to “knock-off” and make ready for the journey.
“We’ve got a five-mile pull before us, an’ I’m not of the mind to spend our entire day at the oars.”
Until this moment Benny had supposed they would walk from the station to the city, and onlearning that Sam intended to make the journey in the dory which the crew used for fishing, a certain wistful expression came into his eyes.
“Now what have you got on your mind, No. 8?” Sam asked, quick to note the change on the boy’s face.
“I was wondering—I thought—I don’t suppose you’d want to take Fluff, Mr. Hardy. He’s been in a boat very often, and knows how to behave himself.”
“Afraid Maje will make trouble if you leave him behind?”
“No, sir, it wasn’t that; but you see he won’t have many chances to go away from the station, and I want him to show his collar and medal whenever it’s possible. He had a bath yesterday, and is as clean as a whistle.”
“There’s no reason why he shouldn’t go, an’ I’m not certain but Mr. Bradford would like to see him rigged out in his finery.”
Benny no longer gave any heed to his breakfast, but spent all the remaining time in combing Fluff’s silken hair, and when Sam Hardy announced that he was ready to start, the dog was looking his best, with the medal hanging in the most conspicuous position.
“He’s looking a good deal finer than you are, No. 8,” Joe Cushing said with a laugh. “Thatgorgeous collar don’t correspond with your old pea-jacket and sou’-wester.”
“It don’t make any difference about me, so long as he’s the way Mrs. Clark always wanted to see him,” Benny replied, choking back a sob as his mind thus involuntarily went into the past. “Folks wouldn’t notice a boy like me, but they always stare when Fluff walks along looking like everything belonged to him.”
“Wait till you’re togged out in a uniform, No. 8, and then I’ll answer for it you get as much attention from the people as does Fluff. I’m going into town with you then, and what a dash we’ll cut!”
Joe Cushing laughed in anticipation of that moment, and while he was thus amused Sam beckoned Benny to follow him.
The dory was lying near the water’s edge, and it only required that she should be launched in order to begin the journey.
Fluff took his place in the stern-sheets as if accustomed to this method of travelling; Sam took up the oars, refusing most decidedly Benny’s proposal that he be allowed to do his share of the rowing, and as the boat glided out of the little cove the crew at the station cheered right heartily.
“It sounds as if they were glad to be rid of us,” Benny suggested, and Sam replied:
“That’s their way of showin’ that they’ll be pleased to see you back. I might leave a dozen times, an’ nobody would so much as poke his nose out of the door to see if I got away all right.”
“But they count on your coming home just the same,” Benny replied earnestly, as if thinking his comrade might be jealous because more attention was bestowed upon a newcomer than on himself.
“I reckon they do, No. 8; but an old fellow like me don’t cut any such figger as does a boy, an’ a dog what’s wearin’ a medal of honor,” and Sam Hardy laughed heartily, whereat Benny began to understand that no jealousy lurked in his heart.
A most enjoyable voyage did this prove to be for No. 8 and Fluff, even though the temperature was many degrees below freezing and the wind piercing cold. Sam Hardy did not appear to be in any very great hurry to reach the city, once he had put off from the station, but told stories of heroism displayed by his comrades, at the same time that he fed the dog liberally with lumps of sugar.
“We’re out for a holiday,” he said when Benny suggested that it was not well for Fluff to have such a feast, “an’ I’m countin’ on his enjoyin’ it as well as us.”
“But it may make him sick.”
“Then it will teach him not to be so greedy another time.”
“I’m afraid he won’t remember it.”
“Most likely not, No. 8, most likely not. Boys an’ dogs are much alike in that particular—they won’t learn by experience. Did you ever think what a wise lad he would be who was eager to learn by the experience of others?”
Benny was considerably puzzled by this remark, and the surfman continued gravely:
“Look at it in this light, lad: you’ve been thrown with them as were older than yourself a good portion of the time you’ve lived in this world. You’ve heard of this one’s havin’ what people call ’bad luck,’ or of that one’s doin’ some foolish thing. Now suppose you’d stored all that up in your memory. Wouldn’t you be able to steer clear of the first man’s bad luck, an’ keep yourself from committin’ the same folly you condemned in the other?”
Benny nodded gravely. This proposition was something entirely new to him, and he believed it to be a most valuable suggestion.
“A boy who was willing to learn from the experience of others would soon be wiser than the average run of lads, and, what’s more, he’d save himself many a sore time; but it ain’t done by young people any more than Fluff will remember, in case he’s sick to-morrow, that the next time sugar’s offered him he should be less greedy.”
Benny was so interested in this method of acquiring knowledge that he continued to discuss the matter until the dory was made fast alongside one of the city piers, and Sam said laughingly:
“I reckon we’d best not spend any more of our time discussin’ the matter; it’ll serve us out on patrol bright nights, when there’s little call to keep a very sharp lookout. Now we’re bound for Mr. Bradford’s office, and then to the tailor’s. You’ll be a terrible swell before many days, No. 8.”
“I’m not going to wear the uniform except when I go into the city, so there’s no danger of my doing very much swelling,” Benny replied with a laugh, and then Sam Hardy was ready to lead the way to the sportsman’s office.
No. 8 did not dare allow Fluff to walk through the streets lest some evil-disposed dog should pick a quarrel with him; but he took good care both the collar and medal could be seen while the little fellow was in his arms.
Their reception by Mr. Bradford was exceedingly friendly—almost too much so, Benny thought, when the gentleman insisted on introducing them to his acquaintances, and telling the story of the rescue.
The dog was petted as perhaps he never had been before, which was pleasing to his master; but, as Benny afterward told Sam Hardy confidentially,there was no reason why he should be praised for what Fluff C. Foster had done.
Then the little party went to the tailor, who was ordered to make a uniform exactly like the one worn by Sam Hardy, and, in addition, a second suit of clothes was decided upon, so that the boy might have a proper outfit when the time came for him to go to school.
The surfman, No. 8, and Fluff dined with Mr. Bradford on this day, after which they were treated to a carriage ride, and so eager was the gentleman to give them pleasure that but for Sam Hardy’s persistency in setting out on the return voyage at an early hour, they might not have succeeded in regaining the station until late in the night.
“It has been what you might call a great day, No. 8,” the surfman said when they had bidden their entertainer adieu on the pier and the dory was out of the harbor. “I’m not certain but that two such outings as this would spoil you an’ Fluff C. Foster for work at the station.”
“We’ve had a good time, and Mr. Bradford has been very kind,” Benny said thoughtfully; “but I’m not so sure as I’d like to try it over again very soon.”
“Why not?”
“Because, in the first place, I don’t deserve it, even if Fluff does; and then again, it ain’t very niceto have folks praising you up when there’s no reason for it.”
“Then you don’t think Mr. Bradford had any right to lay it on quite so thick about what you’d done?”
“No, because it wasn’t altogether true. Any fellow who was all alone in this world with a dog like Fluff, would work mighty hard if folks gave him a home, same’s the crew have given me, so what I do don’t count. Now if Mr. Bradford had told the people we met how good you all were to take us, I’d had a much better time.”
“You’re too modest, Benjamin, an’ that’s a fault every boy don’t have, I’m sorry to say. Now about that uniform of yours. You didn’t so much as ask me when it was to be sent out to the station.”
“It wouldn’t have looked very well to be in a hurry when some one makes me such a splendid present.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t, eh? Well, the toggery wasn’t for me, therefore I had no call to be so bashful. The uniform is to be ready in four days, and about that time Tom Downey will be goin’ into town. The other clothes are to be finished in a week. When they come we’ll—Hello, what’s that steamer layin’ off there for?”
The dory was almost within sight of the station when Sam Hardy ceased rowing very suddenly togaze at a steamer which appeared to be at anchor a mile or more off the shore, and Benny was wholly at a loss to understand why his companion had become so thoroughly excited.
“She don’t seem to be in any trouble,” he ventured to say, and Sam settling down to the oars as if believing he had a severe task before him, replied:
“Her captain is huntin’ for it, if he comes to anchor in that place without precious good reasons. A shoal makes out just there, an’ I’ve seen two good vessels go to pieces on it. That steamer is aground, Benny!”
There was nothing startling to the lad in this announcement. The craft lay as if afloat; the wind was not strong enough to raise a very heavy sea, and nothing indicated any sudden change in the weather.
“I’ll admit that it don’t mean very much now, lad,” the surfman continued as if reading his companion’s thoughts; “but on this coast at this time of the year, no one can say when everything may be changed. There! The captain is beginning to understand that matters ain’t altogether lovely.”
The steamer’s whistle had begun to sound a whistle that help of some kind was required, and Benny believed the captain was calling upon the life-saving crew for assistance, until Sam said:
“She’s whistlin’ for a tug; but with the wind inthis quarter it ain’t likely to do much good, unless she is sighted by one.”
“Our crew will see her.”
“Not before sunset, when the patrol goes out; but they’ll hear the whistle, an’ find her by that means.”
Sam was rowing at his best speed, and Benny watched eagerly for the appearance of the life-saving crew, but no one had appeared in sight when the dory was brought within hailing distance of the stranded steamer.
The rail was lined with heads, showing that she had passengers aboard, and on the bridge was a group of officers.
“Boat ahoy!” some one shouted, and Sam replied, standing up as he did, so that his uniform might be seen.
“Are you a member of a life-saving crew?”
“Ay, sir; the station is a mile and a half away around the point. Are you in need of assistance?”
“We want tugs. Can you telephone from your quarters?”
“Ay, sir.”
“Ask that two steamers be sent at once. We’re not heavily aground; but to such an extent that our engines are of no avail.”
“Shall we take off your passengers?”
“There’s no need of it. We can lie here easilyenough, if it isn’t possible to haul us off before morning.”
“I’m not so certain of that, sir. The tide will fall twelve inches or more before the ebb, and the water hereabouts is rough.”
“Send a message for me to the city, and that will be enough,” the master replied curtly, and Sam took up the oars again, pulling vigorously toward the station.
“There’s what you call a pig-headed captain,” he said when the dory was some distance away. “It stands to reason he doesn’t know anything about this coast, else he’d never gone on that shoal, an’ he had too good an opinion of his own abilities to so much as look at the chart. There are no tugs around here that can pull him off before high tide, and in the meanwhile he’s likely to find that the steamer won’t lay as easy as he’s countin’ on.”
“There comes our surf-boat!” Benny cried, pointing toward a projecting cliff which hid the station from view, and around which the life-saving crew were just appearing. “I knew they’d answer the steamer’s signal as soon as it could be done.”
“Of course they would, lad, there are no sleepy heads among us, if I do say it. Tom Downey will read that captain a lecture, I reckon.”
The dory and the surf-boat were soon side by side,and the keeper asked for information concerning the steamer.
Sam repeated the conversation he had had with the captain, and Mr. Downey replied:
“Send the message as soon as you get back, and then go on duty at once, taking up a station directly opposite where the steamer lies. Flash the Coston twice if she’s likely to need us between now and midnight. Joe Cushing shall cover the remainder of your beat.”
Then word was given for the crew to “pull away,” and Sam bent to his oars as if time was very precious.
“Does Mr. Downey think it is possible the steamer can come to any harm in such pleasant weather?” Benny asked in surprise.
“There’s no telling what may happen, lad, and Downey don’t intend to get himself into trouble if it can be prevented.”
“What trouble can come to him if the captain of the steamer won’t allow the crew to do anything?”
“In case there should be loss of life, even after what’s been said and done, all hands of us would be called for an explanation as to why we didn’t do our duty. Let any trouble come to that steamer, an’ we’re bound to stand an investigation, for the Superintendent of the Service is mighty sharp in such affairs.”
Benny could not understand how it might be possible to blame a crew who had not been allowed to give their services, and Sam was too deeply intent on the business in hand to go into any lengthy explanation.
“I’ll figger it all out for you some time when we’re on patrol,” he said, and No. 8 understood from the tone of his voice that the surfman was not inclined to indulge further in conversation.
When, ten minutes later, the dory was pulled into the little cove near the station, Sam Hardy landed hurriedly, calling out to Benny as he did so:
“Make her fast, lad, and follow me. I’ll set the cook to work on our supper, for we’re not likely to have another chance for anything to eat till midnight.”
No. 8 did as he was bidden, and when he entered the station Sam was just coming from the telephone.
“There’s little show of getting two tugs out to the steamer much before high water, and I’m thinkin’ the captain may be obliged to call on us after all, unless he’s shipped a different set of passengers than usually travel. Turn to an’ fill yourself up with coffee and hearty food, Benjamin, for we’ve got a long stretch of patrol duty ahead, if nothing worse comes of this night’s business.”
Benny delayed in carrying out the instructions given by Sam Hardy only sufficiently long to remove Fluff’s collar and medal, and after that but little time was spent in “filling himself up,” because the excitement had driven away what small remnant of appetite was left after the feast which Mr. Bradford had set before them.
Fluff, wearied perhaps by the attentions bestowed upon him in the city, was perfectly willing to occupy the bed which the cook made up for him near the kitchen stove, and failed to exhibit any sign of displeasure when his young master left him.
“I guess he’s had all the excursion he wants in one day,” Benny said as he followed Sam out into the fast gathering gloom, and the latter replied sagely:
“Dogs are much like boys, No. 8, as I’ve said before. They think of nothin’ but pleasure while the fun is goin’ on, an’ when it’s over are disposedto pay more attention to their own weariness than duty.”
“But Fluff couldn’t help staying in the city just as long as we were there,” Benny said, as if thinking some apology was needed for the dog. “He would have been willing enough to come home if we’d shown him the way.”
“I dare say he would, Benny, I dare say he would; and now we’ll turn our attention to the work before us instead of givin’ any heed to boys or dogs. I’m thinkin’ the captain of that steamer will change his mind about landing the passengers when he learns that the tugs can’t get to him for quite a spell, an’ after he takes note of that fog-bank to seaward.”
Benny gazed in the direction indicated by the surfman’s outstretched hand, but failed to distinguish anything which betokened fog, until Sam called his attention to a dark line along the horizon, and also to the fact that there was a decided change in the temperature.
“There’ll be a smother upon us in less than half an hour, an’ it’s fortunate I brought an extra supply of Coston signals. That’s another case, No. 8, where people would talk of luck, an’ yet it was only reasonable foresight, such as any man ought to exercise.”
Sam was making his way along the coast at hisbest pace, which was so rapid that at times Benny was forced to run, and when ten minutes had passed the boy asked, panting for breath:
“Why are you hurrying? All the crew are out to the steamer, and a watch ashore won’t be needed until quite a while after they have come back.”
“True, lad; but it’s necessary to get the location of the ship well fixed in mind before the fog shuts down. Once that has been done we can go out to her without any great trouble, providin’ we’re needed.”
The two arrived none too soon at the post they were to occupy.
On gaining the bluff opposite the steamer, the mist, which had been rapidly creeping over the ocean, had already begun to envelop her, and no more than the spars could be distinguished.
“Ten minutes’ delay, and we’d have been too late, not only to make her out, but to hear what orders Tom Downey may have to give,” the surfman said, and Benny could faintly distinguish amid the vapor a dark spot which he understood, because of Sam Hardy’s words, to be the surf-boat coming shoreward.
Five minutes later the crew rested on their oars within an hundred feet of the bluff, as the keeper shouted:
“Did you send a message to the city?”
“Ay, sir, and there will be no tugs here much before high water.”
“Keep your ears open for the steamer’s whistle, which will be sounded three times if the captain decides that he needs assistance.”
“And what then, sir? It will be hard making out such a signal as that now the fog-horn has begun to blow.”
It was as if the keeper had only realized this fact by thus being reminded of it, and after a brief consultation with the crew he shouted again:
“We’ll come ashore on that bit of shingle just below, and you may join us there.”
Having said this he gave some order to the men, and the surf-boat was pulled out to sea again, disappearing almost immediately in the fog which had by this time reached the land.
“Why are they coming ashore?” Benny asked as Sam Hardy set out northward.
“He counts on havin’ the surf-boat in case she may be needed, for, if this smother clears away before the moon rises, there’ll be a sea on that will trouble yonder steamer considerably.”
Sam followed the trend on the shore a hundred yards or more, coming to a halt where a narrow strip of pebbly beach lay between two frowning walls of rock, and Benny said to himself that it would not be possible, however familiar the life-saving crew were with the coast, for them to find their way through this dangerous passage while the fog was so dense that objects a dozen feet away could hardly be distinguished.
In this he was mistaken, however. The men had been forced many times, either to save their own lives or in the aid of others, to pursue quite as blind a course, and two or three minutes later the surf-boat came between the frowning walls against which the waves were already beginning to dash with an ominous moan.
Now Benny had an opportunity of observing how much labor might be required of the life-saving crew when it became necessary to take precautions.
The captain of the stranded steamer had refused to allow his passengers to be taken off when it might have been done without difficulty, and now, aground as she was, much danger was to be apprehended. This could be guarded against only by leaving the surf-boat where she might readily be launched. At the same time the remainder of the coast must be patrolled lest other ships needed assistance, and the crew were forced to perform all their regular duties while remaining on the alert to answer a call from this point.
“Suppose the steamer should whistle for assistance, and at the same time a vessel went ashore theother side of the station?” Benny asked. “How could one crew attend to both?”
“It would be the keeper’s duty to decide which craft was in the greatest danger, or, if both were in much the same position, where the largest number of lives might be saved, and then one or the other would be left to her fate. There’s where the responsibility of the keeper comes in, my son, and a heavy one it is like to be under certain circumstances.”
The surf-boat had been hauled up beyond reach of the tide when it should rise, and all the men ordered out on patrol.
There was no time to be spent in eating supper, for the most dreaded of all dangers upon the Eastern coast had suddenly presented itself, and the life-saving crew must labor to the utmost extent of their powers without thought or heed of self until, perchance, exhaustion should overcome them.
Sam and Benny were left alone, and a long, dreary vigil did they keep, although the surfman tried to enliven it for the lad by telling stories, or explaining again and again the duties of each member of the crew under supposititious circumstances.
The fog hung low and dense until nearly midnight, when the wind had so increased in force that it was “blown away,” to use Sam Hardy’s expression, and the steamer revealed to view.
That the surf had been rising all this time the watchers on shore knew full well by the roaring and pounding of the waves upon the rocks, but yet even Sam Hardy, experienced in such matters as he was, betrayed surprise when the lifting of the fog revealed the situation of the stranded steamer.
At the time she was first discovered the vessel lay motionless as if at anchor in a quiet haven; now the heavy swell, dashing over the shoal, was so high that at times it seemed as if the steamer’s decks must be flooded, and Sam Hardy cried anxiously and impatiently:
“Why don’t that pig-headed captain signal for assistance? I’ve seen a craft more staunch than she knocked to pieces by the surf when there wasn’t half a gale of wind, an’ now we’re likely to have before mornin’ all the breeze that a water-borne craft can stagger under, to say nothin’ of one that’s aground.”
“Perhaps he’s waitin’ until daylight,” Benny suggested, and his companion replied with a note of anger in his voice:
“If he does it’ll be too late, for in that shallow water we couldn’t get a life-boat to her, an’ the time has already passed when we might be able to use the surf-boat.”
Five minutes later the two watchers on shore saw, coming around the point, the heavy boat from thestation, and understood that Keeper Downey believed the moment had arrived when assistance should be rendered, even though as yet it had not been asked for.
“I reckon the cook is No. 1 in that crew,” Sam muttered half to himself as he watched the buoyant craft toss like an egg-shell on the heavy waters. “Downey might at least have sent him out here, an’ let me take my proper place, for now the life-boat has been launched there’s little need of keepin’ a man on duty at this place.”
It was a brave sight to see that staunch boat breasting the waves which at times appeared to raise her literally on end, but yet steadily continuing the course, and the timid ones aboard the stranded steamer must have hailed her as a thing of beauty and of mercy.
Benny had never seen the life-boat in service, and so engrossed was he with the spectacle that he could give no attention to anything else.
By this time not a vestige of fog could be seen. The stars were twinkling brightly in the sky, and, save for the tremendous wind which seemed gathering force every instant, one would have said that there was no fear of disaster alongshore.
The life-boat ran down the coast, heading directly for the steamer until she was within perhaps an eighth of a mile, when, turning, she put straight outto sea in the teeth of the wind as if running away from the stranded vessel, and Benny cried:
“Mr. Downey’s afraid to go any nearer; but why doesn’t he come back to the station?”
“Bless your heart, lad, he’s countin’ on boardin’ that craft as soon as may be; but with such a sea runnin’, an’ over that shallow water which is like to let the life-boat down on the shoal when she gets into the trough of the sea, he’s bound to take every precaution. Now! He’s cast the grapnel, an’ you’ll see them drop back as close aboard the steamer as can be done with safety.”
This manœuvre was performed rapidly, and with the least possible delay.
Almost before Sam had ceased speaking the life-boat was lost to view on the starboard side of the steamer, and there she remained so long that the surfman cried impatiently:
“What can they be doin’? Surely there has been time enough to take off a full load, an’ Tom Downey knows as well as any other man, that in an hour from now no craft ever put together by human hands can lay over that shoal without being dashed to pieces on the bottom.”
It was soon seen, however, that Tom Downey was not delaying, for presently the life-boat was pulled up to her grapnel, and then headed for the station, with none save the regular crew on board.
Now it was that Sam Hardy lost his temper entirely; he stormed and scolded, shaking his fist toward the stranded craft until, almost in alarm, Benny asked the reason of his excitement:
“Can’t you see that again the commander of the steamer has refused assistance? Tom Downey went off believin’ the pig-headed master would realize the danger by this time, an’ counted on bringin’ the passengers ashore; but he’s been sent away empty-handed, and when that captain comes to his senses it’ll be too late for us to give him any assistance.”
“Surely, Mr. Downey has done all a man can, and if anything happens now it’s the master of the steamer who is responsible,” Benny said soothingly.
“That doesn’t relieve us from some shadow of blame in case anything happens. We shall be raked over the coals if that craft goes to pieces, an’ Downey will be forced to explain why he didn’t insist on saving the passengers, if not the crew!”
“But he couldn’t if the captain refused.”
“True for you, lad; but it’ll hurt us all the same, for the crew of a life-saving station feels a certain degree of responsibility for every life lost in their district, and thus far our record has been exceptionally good.”
It was useless for Sam to scold and fret.
The circumstances could not be altered, and allhe might do was to stand on the shore watching the increasing violence of the waters, knowing full well that each moment lessened the chances of rendering assistance to the stranded steamer.
Then came Joe Cushing, who was doing patrol duty on that portion of the shore, and Sam asked for the particulars of the life-boat’s voyage.
“When we came alongside Downey explained to the skipper what was like to be the condition of affairs an hour later; but couldn’t beat any sense into his head. He refused to allow a single passenger to leave, although many of them were anxious to do so; but asked again that we send another message into the city for tugs,” Joe Cushing replied. “It seems that the craft hasn’t taken ground so badly but that she could be pulled off with her own engines, by the aid of a couple of tugs, an’ the master declares she’ll stand more poundin’ than she’s likely to receive this night, all of which may be true. Just as we were leavin’ he asked the keeper to have the crew on hand in case he decided later to land with his own boats.”
“With his own boats in this surf!” Sam Hardy exclaimed.
“Ay, that’s what he allowed. Of course Tom Downey told him it couldn’t be done, an’ said all a man might to dissuade him from makin’ such an attempt. Then we came away, an’ Sam, you knowas well as I, that now there’s no crew in this or any other country that can put out across the shoal an’ get back with their boat.”
“Know it, of course I do!” Sam Hardy cried, and then for ten minutes or more the two surfmen discussed the situation angrily, but without making matters any better, save perhaps it might be that their own minds were relieved by much talking, after which Joe Cushing went on patrol again.
When he was gone Benny asked:
“Are we to stay here, sir?”
“Ay, lad, until we starve, unless Tom Downey orders us in.”
The wind was piercing cold, and the two on the shore were exposed to its full force while they remained where it was possible to keep the steamer in view.
Sam urged Benny to find a sheltered spot where he might be partially screened from the wind; but the lad refused, saying decidedly:
“I have been ordered here, sir, the same as you were, and I’ll do what any other member of the crew would in my place.”
“All right, No. 8; but I hold to it that there’s such a thing as havin’ too much grit. You want to toughen up; but you’re goin’ too strong at the start. If you’re bound to hold on, keep pace with me while I trot around here a spell.”
Then the two paced back and forth along the rocky coast nearly an hour when, although constantly expecting it, they were startled by the steamer’s shrill whistle.
Three blasts blown, and Sam Hardy exclaimed:
“He’s come to his senses at last; but when it’s too late! Now, whatever happens, he’ll say he was ‘unlucky,’ although we know it was nothin’ but sheer willfulness.”
“What are we to do?” Benny asked, as if thinking they must immediately set to work in an attempt to answer this call for assistance.
“That’s for the keeper to say. If I was in his place I’d get the beach-wagon over here, for the boats are of no use.”