“Do you know, lad, that you did a brave thing in takin’ the chances of my pullin’ you into the hold with me?”
“I do hope you won’t make such talk, Mr. Hardy,” Benny cried pleadingly. “I ain’t brave, for I was terribly frightened when that queer noise came out of the hold.”
“I noticed that you kept on trying to find out what it was.”
“Yes, sir, because I’d been ashamed to have it said I was scared at a noise.”
“Well, hark you, Benny, I won’t say anything more about your being a little hero, although I may think so just the same, and in return you shall keep quiet about this bit of trouble.”
“Don’t you want any one to know of it, sir?”
“Indeed, I don’t, No. 8. It wouldn’t sound very well if you should tell that an old hand like Sam Hardy let himself into the hold of a wreck by a rope which he couldn’t come back on. The boys never’d stop making fun of me, an’ more especially if it turns out that I was hangin’ all that time within two or three feet of the cargo. Now, is it a bargain that both of us are to keep this ’ere business a profound secret?”
“I’ll never tell, sir, though I can’t see that you have anything to be ashamed of, for nobody would want to take such chances as might have come. But how are we going to get out? While the steamer is heeled over so badly I can’t climb up the stanchion.”
“We’ll hold on a spell, till you’re rested, and then I can give you a lift up on my shoulder.”
“I’m ready to try now, sir. I wasn’t very tired—only for a minute or two.”
“You’re a lad after my own heart, Benjamin, an’ so long as I have a dollar or a shelter, half of it belongs to you! Now then, get up on my shoulder, an’ oncewe’re on deck it’s the same as if this foolish thing never happened, except when we two are alone.”
Benny scrambled up as Sam had directed, and then the surfman, cautioning him to keep his knees stiff, lifted the lad straight above his head until he could seize the hatch-combing.
Once on deck he let down a length of rope, and Sam Hardy was soon released from his temporary prison.
“I reckon I’d better get back to the station right away, or I’ll be getting into more mischief, like some youngster,” the surfman said grimly as he shouted to the crew of a small boat at hand to take him ashore.
The captain of one of the wrecking tugs came alongside at this moment, and, seeing Sam, cried.
“Don’t be in a hurry, Hardy. I’m going to have a look at the cargo, and you’d better go with me. It’ll be interesting to find out how well it was stowed.”
“Do you know what she’s loaded with?”
“Pig-iron.”
“It won’t interest me to see it, and, besides, I’ve been down in the hold quite a spell already.”
“How are things there?”
“To tell the truth, I didn’t see very much; I had business of my own before I’d been there many minutes. You’ll need a lantern.”
Then Sam went over the rail into the boat which had come alongside to take him off, Benny following close behind as a matter of course, and when the two were on shore again the surfman said:
“It would have been odd if I’d dropped onto that metal without doing myself some serious injury. There’s no longer any question, lad, but that you pulled me out of a bad place.”
“I’m glad,” Benny replied emphatically.
“Accordin’ to my way of thinkin’ there’d be more reason for gladness if I had never been such a bloomin’ idiot as to go down there.”
“Perhaps so, sir; but, so long as you did, I’m glad I was the one who pulled you out, for it’s likely to be the only chance I’ll ever have of doing you a favor.”
“I’m not so certain of that, No. 8, if you stay around the station as long as we’ll be glad to have you. In this life of ours there are many times when a fellow’s mate can do very much toward savin’ his life, an’ you’re just the kind of a comrade who can be depended upon to do pretty near the right thing at the right time.”
Never since the morning when he first found himself in the life-saving station had Benny felt so proud and happy as at this moment, and he walked by Sam Hardy’s side unable to speak because of the great joy in his heart.
When Sam Hardy and Benny returned to the life-saving station no mention was made regarding the misadventure on board the wreck, although the former described in detail to his comrades all he had seen on or around the steamer.
Benny’s greatest fear was lest the cook might question him so closely that it would become necessary to remain silent or betray the secret, and then the crew would understand that the two had had some unpleasant experience.
Fortunately, however, all hands applied to Sam for information, and he was able to lead the conversation into some other channel whenever anything was said regarding the hold of the steamer.
Then some sailors from one of the tugs came into the station, and the crew no longer showed any desire to learn what Hardy and No. 8 had seen, much to the relief of the latter.
Benny and Fluff spent several hours during theafternoon with the lookout on the hill, and when Keeper Downey hove in sight the lad walked slowly toward the station, whispering to the dog in his arms:
“It won’t do, Fluffy to rush right up the minute Mr. Downey gets back and ask to see the uniform; but I do hope it won’t be very long before he shows us what he has brought.”
By the time Benny arrived at the boat-house door the keeper was mooring his dory, and a few moments later the lad saw him step ashore with a package in his arms so large that it hid at least half of his body from view.
“He has really brought the clothes, Fluffy, and it oughtn’t to be such a dreadful while before we can look at them, because supper won’t be ready for two hours, and he’ll have nothing else to do except show all hands what the tailor has made.”
Benny was not kept long in suspense. As Tom Downey approached the building he cried to the expectant lad:
“Come into the mess-room, No. 8; I’ve brought home all your finery, and the crew will be wantin’ to see how you look in the uniform.”
Benny answered the summons hastily, and Fluff ran at his heels barking shrilly, as if he had some personal interest in that which the keeper was carrying.
With the exception of Robbins, who was acting as lookout, every member of the crew was awaiting Tom Downey’s arrival when he entered, looking particularly cheerful.
“I’ve got all I went for, and a little besides,” he said, still holding the package in his arms. “What’s more, I haven’t taken advantage of you fellows by looking at the toggery. It was wrapped up when I got to the tailor’s, and beyond the little he told me, I know no more about what’s inside the paper than you do. Now I propose that Benny take this bundle, go up-stairs, put on the uniform, and dazzle us all by suddenly appearing as a full-fledged life-saver.”
“That’s the way to fix it!” Sam Hardy cried enthusiastically. “Get along, No. 8, an’ don’t spend too much time primpin’, for we’re achin’ to get a sight of you in brass buttons.”
Benny did as he was bidden, and a few moments after he had disappeared up the stairway those below heard an exclamation of astonishment, followed an instant later by the question:
“What’s that other thing, Mr. Downey?”
“The tailor said he’d put in something on his own account for Fluff. Try it on and send him down.”
The crew were wholly at a loss to understand the meaning of this brief conversation until the dogcame down-stairs at full speed, yelping and barking as if in the highest state of excitement and pleasure.
A roar of laughter burst from the men when the little fellow sat up on his tail in the centre of the room, as if asking that he be admired. Over his silken white hair was strapped a tiny, blue broadcloth blanket, on the two rear corners of which was worked in white silk the letters “L. S. S.” so disposed as to form a fanciful monogram.
“Three cheers for No. 9!” Joe Cushing cried, and this was responded to with such good-will that Fluff hurriedly ran back to his master, thoroughly frightened by the noisy demonstration.
“Don’t he look great?” Benny cried, and Tom Downey replied with a laugh:
“Indeed he does, lad; but you needn’t stay up there admiring him, for we’re more anxious to see your rig.”
Then, moving slowly and shyly, as if almost ashamed of his fine feathers, Benny made his appearance on the stairs, and it was an exclamation of genuine admiration with which he was greeted. The little fellow looked manly in the neatly fitting suit of blue, bedecked with brass buttons, and very proud withal, for, although he considered himself a member of the crew, the fact had never seemed so real to him as at this moment when he was attired as a life saver.
The deep crimson blood came into his cheeks as he stood before the men, in obedience to orders, turning here and there as one or the other dictated, and listening all the while to words of praise and genuine admiration.
“It’s all right, No. 8,” Sam Hardy said at length. “I was almost afraid that tailor might rig you out like a jumping-jack, with a lot of folderols that had no place on a life saver’s uniform; but he’s gone straight with the orders I gave him, an’ the job couldn’t be improved on.”
“Don’t forget that you’re to go into town with me when next I have leave of absence,” Joe Cushing cried, and then some one called attention to Fluff, who was sitting on the topmost step, still clad in uniform, wagging his tail vigorously as if asking whether it would be safe for him to venture down.
“Call your partner, No. 8, an’ let’s see how the two of you look together.”
During fully five minutes Benny and Fluff were forced to walk here or there in order that the men might have good opportunity for seeing them in all possible lights, and then Mr. Downey suggested that the lad show himself in civilian’s garb.
No. 8 obeyed very readily, almost glad to escape from that atmosphere of praise, and when he next appeared it was in a suit of clothes such as anywell-dressed boy ten or twelve years of age would be expected to display.
A blue blouse with a rolling collar, sailor-fashion, knickerbockers, stockings, and a jacket of the same color, the clothing trimmed neatly with white braid,made of him, as Dick Sawyer said, “a perfect little gentleman.”
“You look best in whichever you happen to have on when you heave in sight,” Sam Hardy said admiringly. “Ain’t it goin’ to be quite a come-down to get into your old pea-jacket an’ sou’wester?”
“I’ll feel more like myself then,” Benny said emphatically. “It don’t seem right for me to be dressed up so fine, and most likely it ain’t.”
“There’s nothin’ too good for you, accordin’ to my way of thinkin’, No. 8, so don’t get such queer ideas into your head. How does young Mr. Foster feel about it?”
“Do you know, I believe he’s proud of his blanket? I tried to take it off before we came down, and he growled terribly.”
“It’ll be a good thing for him when the weather is biting cold, an’ you’d better let him wear it a spell.”
Then Benny went up-stairs again in order to change his clothes once more, preparatory to assisting the cook, and a stranger would have found it difficult to decide whether the boy or the crew of men were most pleased because of the new clothes.
During the four days which followed the arrival of the uniform, No. 8 was kept busily employed about the station, except during such times as he went on patrol with Sam Hardy.
Because of the wreckers in the vicinity, and the many visitors who came to see the stranded steamer, it seemed as if the buildings were thronged with strangers during the greater portion of each day, and when the lad was not at work in the kitchen, he found quite as much as he could conveniently do in “cleaning up” after the careless ones, who appeared to think it would make little difference to a “crew of men” if a greater or less amount of mud or snow was brought in on the cleanly scrubbed floors.
“If the steamer ain’t hauled off mighty soon, No. 8 will wear himself down to skin an’ bone, trying to make the place look tidy,” Dick Sawyer said after a party of slovenly visitors had taken their departure. “It makes me tired to see him running around from mornin’ till night with a swab in his hands, an’ ten minutes after he’s scrubbed every board clean, a fresh layer of dirt is brought in.”
“He’ll get a rest by to-morrow, I’m thinking,” Joe Cushing replied, “an’ it wouldn’t surprise me such a terrible sight if all the wreckers’ work was undone before twenty-four hours go by.”
“We may get a little blow from the eastward, but I ain’t countin’ on anything that can be called a storm,” Dick said carelessly as he followed No. 8 into the oil-room.
Before night had come there were many in and around the station who shared Joe Cushing’s opinion as to the weather.
Everything about the wreck was made as snug as possible; extra hawsers were run out, the hatches battened down, and the lighters anchored in deep water.
Instead of lying off the cove when the day’s work was done, the tugs ran over to the city, and all the small boats were hauled up beyond reach of the waves.
Sam Hardy was the first to go on patrol this night, and, as a matter of course, Benny accompanied him, for since the affair in the hold of the steamer the surfman had appeared more than usually eager for the companionship of his young comrade.
“We’re gettin’ the fat of the work this night,” Hardy said as the two left the building.
“What do you mean by that? Ain’t we going to stay out the full four hours?”
“Indeed we are, lad; but the wind won’t get up much before midnight, an’ when it does come I’m thinkin’ it will bring rain.”
“Then you believe as Mr. Cushing does?”
“I’m not lookin’, as Joe is, for anything very heavy, but allow it won’t be pleasant for the patrol who comes after us.”
Save that the wind was blowing freshly, Bennysaw no indications of a storm, and whatever might have been the appearance of the sky, it would have had no meaning for him after Sam Hardy delivered his opinion.
Their beat led them past where the stranded steamer lay, now considerably more than half unloaded, and at this point a long halt was made.
As yet the surf had not risen, although the wind had been steadily increasing in force since sunset, and the lighters rose and fell on the gentle swell with but little tugging at their cables. White foam around the wreck told that the rising tide was churning against her sides; but with no more force than while the wreckers had been at work.
To Benny, particularly after hearing Hardy’s opinion, there was no reason for the life savers to feel disturbed in mind, and, when the tour of duty having come to an end, he returned to the station, it was with the belief that the repose of the crew would be undisturbed.
He was exceedingly tired, as he had been every night since the stranded steamer attracted so many visitors, and went to bed immediately after entering the building, failing to observe what at another time might have drawn his attention—that every member of the crew yet remained in the mess-room as if anticipating a sudden call to duty.
It seemed to him that he must have been asleepseveral hours when Fluff’s shrill barking aroused him, and, sitting bolt upright in bed he observed, much to his surprise, that none of the men, with the exception of the cook, who regularly retired at an early hour, had been in the sleeping-room.
Covering Fluff’s mouth to still his barking, Benny listened.
It was evident Joe Cushing had just come in from patrol, and was making a report of rather an alarming nature.
“In addition to the laboring of the steamer, one of the lighters appears to be dragging anchor, andif she sweeps down upon the stranded craft there’ll be no more work for the wreckers.”
Benny was out of bed in an instant, for he knew that the crew would set about repairing the mischief without delay, and it was not his intention to be left behind.
Dressing hurriedly, he descended the stairs just as the men were putting on their oiled clothing, and without comment he began following their example.
“Hello, No. 8, what are you about?” the keeper asked.
“Ain’t the crew going out, sir?”
“Yes; but not on what you might call life-saving work. It’s only a ’longshore job of caring for lighters, with more hard work than glory in it. We may be knocking around from one of those tubs to the other until daylight, and it’ll be wiser for you to stay under cover.”
Benny immediately removed the coat he had put on; but it could readily be seen that he was sorely disappointed at thus being advised to remain in the station, for advice from the keeper was to him nothing less than a positive command.
“It’ll grieve him mightily to be here while we’re at work,” Sam Hardy whispered to Mr. Downey, and the latter replied:
“It’s easier for him to feel sorry than to be knocking around with us all night, for I’m thinkin’ this is a job that ain’t soon to be ended.”
“It won’t be as hard for him as to stay here with the cook. No. 8 ain’t a lad who’s afraid of work, as he’s shown us every day since he came.”
Tom Downey hesitated a moment, and then said slowly, as does one who is not certain that he speaks wisely:
“If you had rather take the chances with us, when we’re setting out to do nothing more than get a lot of scows into shape, come along, Benny. It was only in order to save you a long spell of hard work that I proposed you should stay behind.”
“If it don’t make any difference to you, sir, I’d much rather go,” Benny replied in a low tone. “It wouldn’t seem that I really was No. 8 if the crew went away without me.”
“Get into your oil-skins, since you’re so greedy for hard work, lad, an’ we’ll start. You’ll see this night the dullest piece of drudgery that life savers were ever put to.”
Benny’s face was actually aglow with pleasure when this permission had been given, and before the foremost of the crew could leave the mess-room he was clad in his oiled clothing, eager to share whatever might be the portion of his comrades.
To the boy’s delight, the life-boat was to be used for the work. He had never been on board of her, and it would indeed have seemed hard had this opportunity been denied him.
Not until the buoyant craft had been pulled out beyond the point did No. 8 realize that in his weather predictions Sam Hardy had made a failure. The wind was blowing freshly from the northeast, the rain was falling, and the waves had risen until the heavy boat was flung about like a cork.
The crew plied their oars in silence; all evidently looked upon the work of securing the lighters in exactly the same light as did Tom Downey—as drudgery,—and there was nothing to animate them. If a vessel with a crew on board had been in distress,each man would have been on the alert and eager, straining every muscle without thought of fatigue, instead of which they were now dispirited.
Not until they were within fifty yards of the lighter which lay nearest the point, could Benny distinguish any object on the rolling waters, and then he began to understand how difficult a task had the crew taken upon themselves.
The huge fabrics, hardly more than scows, were wallowing in the waves, sending up great clouds of spray when the seas broke with a noise like thunder under the square bows or sterns, and the lad, ignorant though he was regarding such work, knew full well that it would be more difficult to board one of the hulks than to clamber over the rail of an ordinary wreck.
The order was given to “cease rowing,” and as the oars were held firmly in the water to prevent the life-boat from being blown at the mercy of the wind, Keeper Downey studied how he might best accomplish the difficult task.
“They are all dragging their anchors,” he said after a brief silence.
“Yes, and would in this shallow water, no matter what weight of metal they had out,” Dick Sawyer grumbled. “If the wreckers are willing to leave their hulks on such a shore as this, without so muchas a single man aboard, it would serve them right to lose the whole boiling.”
“We’ve got to board that lighter!” Downey finally exclaimed, giving no heed to Dick’s grumbling. “It won’t be a nice job, boys, but must be done, else those hulks will be driven down upon the steamer. Stand by, 1, 2, 4, and 5,” he added, designating the men by their numbers.
No protest was made, although the life savers knew they were ordered to far more dangerous work than would be theirs if human lives were to be wrested from the waters.
The men referred to hauled in their oars, and the remainder of the crew, Benny doing his best with the heavy implement Sam had been wielding, worked the life-boat around until she was to leeward of the lighter.
“Jump when I give the word, and then slack away on the cables. Look around for spare anchors! If any be found, heave them out; but remember that you must work lively! Are you ready? jump!”
The four men leaped as one, and the life-boat was hurled back by the impetus until a dozen yards of water tumbled between her and the lighter.
A long sigh of relief escaped from Benny’s lips as he saw that his comrades had gained a safe footing on the rolling, pitching hulk, and then it was necessarythat he give his undivided attention to working the oar, lest the waves should wrest it from his grasp.
Downey’s purpose was to keep the life-boat under the lee of the lighter to lessen the labor of his men, and even this was an extremely difficult matter, for the sea increased in violence momentarily, while there were but three men and a boy at the oars.
Hardy, Cushing, Sawyer, and Henderson were the men detailed for the work of securing the heavy hulk, and there were none among the crew stronger or more able to perform the task, yet it was soon seen that they were working at a great disadvantage owing to lack of numbers.
“There are no spare anchors here!” Hardy cried out after he had been on board the unwieldy craft ten minutes or more. “There’s only an apology for a windlass, an’ I question if it won’t go by the board before many hours.”
“Give her more scope, for it’s all we can do, and get on board again smartly; the lighter nearest inshore is dragging badly,” Downey shouted in reply.
As was afterward learned, the men had but just loosened the carelessly laid turns from the shaky windlass when a huge sea lifted the stern of the lighter high in the air, and, passing forward, allowed the heavy after part to drop into the trough of the sea with a snap that would have tested the timbers of a strong vessel.
Those on board the life-boat heard a crashing and rending as of wood; saw the huge hulk rise again on a wave, and then came the cry from Joe Cushing:
“The windlass has gone!”
Even as he spoke it seemed as if the heavy fabric, lifting such a height of side against the wind that it acted as a sail, literally leaped forward directly upon the life-boat.
“Stern all! Lively, boys! Lively!”
Benny laid all his strength against the huge oar, and yet he could not push it back so much as an inch; but his efforts might have been of some avail in connection with the quick, muscular work of the others, and the boat was forced out of the way only so much as was absolutely necessary. The failure of an inch in distance, and she must have been crushed by the ponderous weight which overhung her until Benny felt certain they would be swamped.
This necessary manœuvre exposed the life-boat to the full force of the wind, and before she could be brought round again, half-manned as she was, fully fifty yards of water separated her from the lighter whereon were the four life savers now turned mariners in distress.
Because no one of his companions spoke, Benny believed the danger which menaced his comrades on the hulk to be very great, and a sensation of faintness came over him as he thought that perhapshe might never again clasp the hands of those whom he had learned to love.
With a full crew on the life-boat it would have been a comparatively easy task to rescue the men from the lighter; but under the circumstances it was difficult work to even so much as hold her against the wind, and in the meanwhile the huge craft was approaching the breakers at a speed that must soon put her beyond reach of help.
“Put your very life into the oars, boys!” Downey cried appealingly. “We must lay her so near alongside that we can pass our comrades a rope, for we can’t hope to help them from the shore!”
Every one, including Benny, had been working to the full extent of his power, yet it seemed now as if still greater strength was laid on the oars, as Downey shouted to their comrades:
“Stand by for a line, boys! Make it fast, and come in on it. I see no other chance!”
“Let her drift in on the shoal!” Hardy cried.
“There are too big odds against all of us using your line, an’ we’ll hold on a spell after she strikes. You four can manage the surf-boat, an’ I allow there’s time to get it.”
“He’s right!” the keeper exclaimed. “I must have lost my head when I thought they could come in hand-over-hand while there’s such a sea on. Buckle to the oars, boys! We’ll make the stationif we can; but if not, beach this craft as near as possible. We’ve a poor crew indeed, if our comrades are allowed to drown while they’ve got so many timbers under them!”
While speaking he had swung the boat around head on to the shore, and every man tugged and strained at his ashen blade, while Downey lent all possible assistance with the steering oar.
“We’ll never make the station!” Benny heard Robbins, who was directly in front of him mutter, and almost at the same instant the keeper cried hoarsely:
“We must take our chances in the cove, boys. No. 8, get hold of a cork jacket and come aft before we strike!”
Benny understood the command given by Keeper Downey, but could not make up his mind as to how it might be obeyed. It seemed to him in the highest degree important that he keep to work with the oar, and yet he could not lay hold of a life-preserver without dropping it.
After having thus attended to the boy’s safety so far as was possible, the keeper turned all his attention to the work of so steering the life-boat that she would strike the shore at the least dangerous point.
The huge lighter, on which could be seen indistinctly the forms of the four men, was being driven rapidly toward the stranded steamer, and it was not necessary one should have much experience in such matters to understand that if she struck the wreck there was little hope the four men could gain the shore alive.
If the crew had been on the cliff with the beach-apparatus, watching others being swept down thecoast in such fashion, it would not have appeared to be a particularly dangerous position, because a line could be fired across the wreck, or the surf-boat pulled to wheresoever the lighter might come to grief.
Now, however, there was no one on shore to lend assistance, and, as a matter of fact, every member of the crew was in extreme peril.
Benny watched his helpless comrades as he pulled at the oar while awaiting the opportunity to lay hold of a life-preserver, and, observing that he was not yet prepared for what lay before them, Robbins asked sharply:
“Didn’t you hear what the keeper said?”
“Yes, sir; but I can’t reach one of the jackets without dropping my oar.”
“Let it go, then! None of us are doing very much good now while the wind has such a firm grip on us, and your strength won’t be missed. This is the time when you must have your wits well about you, lad, and it’s no easy matter to keep a clear head while floundering in the surf.”
“Is it certain we’ll all be thrown out?” Benny asked as he took up one of the jackets and began adjusting it.
“There’s no help for it. If we’re lucky, it may be possible to get the surf-boat afloat before that lumberin’ lighter strikes; but I’m doubtful as toour succeeding. In all my experience on this coast I never before saw the life savers so completely knocked out as they appear to be now.”
The four men on the unwieldy craft could be seen making such provisions for their own safety as was possible under the circumstances. Just abaft of where the windlass had stood was a narrow hatchway leading to the shallow hold, and around the combing of this they ran a short length of rope to form a life-line. It was a poor makeshift, but one on which might depend the lives of four men.
In a single hurried glance Benny saw that Sam Hardy was stripping off the greater portion of his clothing preparatory to the battle with the surf, and that the others were peering ahead in the gloom as if trying to decide at which point the lighter would take the land.
Meanwhile the life-boat had been racing toward the shore with marvellous rapidity, flung forward by both wind and wave, and those on board had no more than time in which to get a general view of the surroundings before she was being tossed to and fro in the broken water which extended a hundred yards or more from the coast-line.
“Stand ready, boys!” Tom Downey shouted, still doing his utmost to guide the light craft by means of the steering-oar. “Leap clear if she turns over! Robbins, have a care of Benny; but don’ttry to do more than keep his head above water till some of us can give you a lift!”
“Take hold of the back of my coat,” the surfman said to the lad an instant after these orders had been given. “After I have jumped, do your best to keep on my shoulders, and, above all, don’t lose your courage. Surely we, whose business it is to save life in the surf, should be able to go through yonder broken water alive.”
“Don’t pay any attention to me, Mr. Robbins,” Benny replied, trying his best, and almost successfully, to speak in a firm tone. “You can save yourself, and it ain’t fair to be bothered with me.”
There was no time in which to say anything more. Already was the life-boat rising on the crest of a gigantic wave which promised to drop her on the shoal twenty yards or more to seaward of low-water mark, and all knew that the supreme moment had come.
Not until this instant did Tom Downey relinquish the steering-oar, and the others, including Benny, mentally braced themselves for the struggle which was close at hand.
Had the men been in the lighter surf-boat, the wave might have carried them beyond reach of danger; but the larger craft struck the bottom some distance from the shore, and it seemed to Benny as if the stern was flung directly over the bow.
The upheaving of the boat threw him far out over the water before he had time to leap, and ere Robbins had taken hold of him.
“Don’t lose your courage!”
These words which Robbins had spoken were ringing in the lad’s ears as he was plunged head foremost into the boiling waters, and he strove rather to keep his wits about him than to strike out for the shore.
He was conscious of coming in contact with the bottom, and then, as he rose to the surface, of being drawn back forcibly by the undertow, after which he threw his arms above his head lest he should be dashed against a rock.
It seemed as if he was whirled to and fro violently, then flung inshore, only to be dragged back again, and after that came a bewildering, sickening sensation, until it seemed as if some heavy object was pressing directly above him.
Involuntarily he clutched at it, and found a rope in his grasp.
An instant of confusion, and then he realized that he was floating by the side of the life-boat.
The craft had righted itself after being up-ended, for, unless serious damage had been done her hull, she would always swim in proper fashion, and it so chanced the waves had carried her directly over the lad who, by remaining passive in the surf, had doneexactly that which was best calculated to insure his safety.
“I won’t lose my courage!” Benny said stoutly, and his own words served to animate him.
He hauled on the rope until finding that it was made fast inside the craft, when, by exerting all his strength, it was possible to clamber inboard, although by so doing the boat was filled to the gunwales with water.
“With this jacket on, and in a life-boat, I can’t sink, and the only fear is that I’ll be thrown against the rocks, the same as a life saver whom Mr. Hardy knew,” Benny said to himself.
Then, clutching the thwart, the lad looked around him with the idea that he might be able to render assistance to those of his companions who had not succeeded in gaining a place of safety.
On the waves near at hand he could see nothing; but ashore was a small group of men gazing toward him.
“Stand by for a line!” he heard Mr. Downey shout, and then all fear for himself fled as he thought of those on the lighter.
“I am all right!” he cried at the full strength of his lungs. “I’ll hold on here while you launch the surf-boat.”
He did not wait to hear the reply, but looked hurriedly around for the lighter, and his breathcame quick and fast as he saw the huge craft almost upon him.
The wind was driving her down on a line with the stranded steamer, and the life-boat, in her lee and sheltered from the gale, was being swept by the undertow in the opposite direction.
Now he understood that there were other dangers than those of being dashed against the rocks, and for an instant it seemed certain the end had come.
He saw a human figure standing near the edge of the huge craft, and to him he shouted wildly:
“Can’t you throw me a line?”
There was no time for a reply. Benny had hardly more than cried out before the small boat was grating against the side of the hulk, and at the same instant he who had been peering over the side leaped down.
The impetus given by the man’s body flung the life-boat to one side, and in the merest fraction of time she was astern of the dangerous fabric which swept onward, leaving a wake behind like that of a steamer.
“Is it you, No. 8?” a familiar voice cried, and Benny shouted in relief and pleasure, for he knew Sam Hardy was with him once more.
“Where are the others?” he panted as Sam floundered to his side.
“Still on board the lighter; but I’m not allowin’ there’s any great danger for ’em. It begins to look as if the clumsy hulk would clear the stranded steamer, in which case they have only to hold on till the surf-boat can be launched. Seein’ the life-boat, I took the chances of jumpin’ so she wouldn’t be swept out to sea, for it would be queer readin’ if the Superintendent got a letter telling that we’d lost a craft like her. How did you happen to be here alone?”
In the fewest possible words Benny explained what had happened, and asked:
“How are we goin’ to get ashore, Mr. Hardy?”
“That ain’t troublin’ me so much just now as is the question of how we’re goin’ to keep her from bein’ driven back against the cliff. So far as I could see, all hands except you, got ashore without any very great trouble, an’ they’ll soon have the surf-boat over here. What we must do is to keep off the rocks, an’ that’ll be a reasonably hard job with such a cargo of water as we’ve got aboard.”
“I can bail her.”
“As well try to dip up the ocean, for every wave is sweepin’ over us here in this broken water. We’re all right for a spell, an’ there’s nothin’ to prevent our watchin’ the others.”
Benny would have made an attempt to do whatever Sam Hardy might have suggested, howeverwild or impossible, and now did his best at peering through the gloom toward that dark mass which he knew was the lighter.
He could distinguish nothing on the shore; but the surfman, having had more experience, declared that he could see quite plainly the forms of their comrades.
“They don’t dare spend the time to go after the surf-boat, but will trust to what they can do with ropes from the shore. The wreckers have left enough gear behind to furnish each man with a life-line, and since there’s no longer any danger the lighter will strike the steamer, it won’t be a hard job to bring every fellow ashore. I’m still wonderin’ what made me jump when I saw the boat, Benny. It was a fool trick, after yonder hulk had taken such a turn as showed she’d strike a sandy bottom.”
“It was mighty lucky for me that you did come, sir.”
“Why, lad? I can’t do the first thing toward helpin’ us out of this plight, except by usin’ the steerin’-oar when we’re nearer in shore, an’ you may as well have been alone.”
“I’d have been terribly frightened; but now everything is all right.”
Sam gathered the boy in his arms for an instant, but made no reply, and during those few seconds itseemed as if the two were nearer in spirit than they had ever been before.
“She’s struck!” the surfman cried at length, referring to the lighter, and Benny saw a huge cloud of spray rise in the air as if against the base of a cliff.
“When we first went adrift, Joe Cushing figgered that the danger of bein’ washed away wouldn’t be very great, provided she went clear of the steamer, for the deck is so broad, and her depth so great, that the waves won’t make a clean breach over her. In their places, I’d take the chances of stayin’ there till the tide falls, rather than trust to a hand-rope through the surf.”
Sam continued to gaze first at the huge hulk and then at the shore, regardless of his own danger, until Benny recalled him to the fact that the life-boat was being driven directly toward a cliff of brown rocks a quarter of a mile beyond where the life savers ashore were stationed.
“Hold on where you are till I give the word,” Sam cried as he unshipped one of the spare oars from its beckets and swung it out over the stern. “I’m not certain one man can do much more than hold this boat before the wind, and if we find that she ain’t to be turned from her course, we’ll try the surf again.”
“Can’t I help you?”
“Not a bit, lad, except by sittin’ still an’ obeyin’ orders. Don’t be frightened, for——”
“There’s nothing to scare me now you’re here,” Benny replied with sublime confidence, and the surfman muttered a few words under his breath, the purport of which Benny failed to hear.
From this moment the two in the boat ceased to pay any attention to their comrades either on shore or aboard the lighter; their own situation demanded every thought, and while Sam Hardy would not have admitted as much to his companion, he was seriously concerned regarding the possibility of warding off the threatening danger.
Freighted with water as the life-boat was, she sailed sluggishly before the blast, with not sufficient headway to prevent the waves from breaking over her continuously, and it was necessary her crew should exercise every care to prevent themselves from being washed overboard.
There was no deviation from the course, however; straight toward that frowning cliff the wind and waves forced her, and the surfman knew full well, although he refrained from giving words to the fact, that it was not in the power of man to aid them if they struck the rocks, where the waves would beat them to and fro until life was crushed out.
“We must take to the water, Benny,” Sam Hardy said at length, doing his best to speak in acheery tone. “It ain’t an overly pleasant idee; but goes ’way ahead of stayin’ aboard till we can’t help ourselves. Can you swim any?”
“A little in smooth water.”
“You’ve got a cork jacket on?”
“Yes, sir, and it kept me up in great shape before, so you needn’t bother about me, for I sha’n’t drown so long as I keep my courage.”
“I ain’t afraid but you’ll contrive to do that last. Now listen: we’re goin’ to take to the water mighty soon; I’ll go over, an’ you’re to follow close behind. Once we’re afloat, keep a firm hold of my shirt collar from behind, an’ see to it your grip is not loosened.”
“Please don’t try to drag me, Mr. Hardy. It’s certain you’ll come out all right alone, an’ I’m afraid——”
“Benny, I’d sooner never go ashore than get there without you,” Sam replied, speaking very gravely; “so we won’t make any talk about that part of it. Do as I’ve said, an’ we’ll both be back at the station to-morrow mornin’, or neither of us shows up there again. Are you ready?”
“Whenever you say the word, sir,” Benny replied stoutly, although it seemed as if his heart was in his throat.
“I hate to leave the life-boat, but the Government can easier buy a new one than I can get anotherlease of life, so here goes. Stand close by my side, No. 8, an’ jump with me.”
The boy obeyed promptly, although the strongest man might well have been excused for hesitating at such a leap.