“I should think they’d soon know it so well that there wouldn’t be any need of doing so much work,” Benny replied, as he set about paring the potatoes.
“They do,” the cook said with a laugh; “but just read these ’ere rules and regulations on ‘Drill and Exercise,’ an’ you’ll see that men at life-saving stations ain’t allowed to spend very much idle time. All that’s set down there is to be gone through with every day, in addition to patrolling the shore, which, as you have seen already, ain’t child’s play. Not that I’m grumblin’ about the work, for it’s well the boys are kept out of idleness; but this will show how hard they’ve got to work.”
The cook handed Benny a thin, black-covered book bearing the title Revised Regulations, and on the page exposed to view the lad read the lines given below:
“168. The following weekly routine of drill, etc., will be observed during the first month of the active season at all regularly manned stations in the Service:
“Monday.—Practice with beach-apparatus and overhaul and examine all apparatus and gear.
“Tuesday.—Practice with surf and life-boat.
“Wednesday.—Practice with signals.
“Thursday.—Practice with beach-apparatus.
“Friday.—Practice resuscitation.
“Saturday.—Clean house.
“After the first month the practice with beach-apparatus on Monday may be omitted.
“169. Whenever the regular practice is prevented by wreck duty, stormy weather, or high surf, it must take place the first opportunity thereafter. Whenever practice is so prevented, the fact must be entered upon the journal, with full particulars of the cause.
“170. No wilful neglect on the part of the keepers to practice their crews, as directed in the foregoing routine, will be tolerated, and the officers of the district are required to permit none.
“171. By practice with the beach-apparatus is meant the mustering of the crew, the recital by each member of his particular duty, and the rigging of the gear over a distance of seventy-five yards from sand-anchor to wreck-pole, according to the method set forth in the beach-apparatus drill. Powder must be used in every case, and the practice, so far as practicable, be precisely the same as at a wreck, using the apparatus upon the carriage, excepting the long whip. If necessary, to preserve the hawser, a coil of rope may be taken to the practice ground, and placed at the rear of the carriage, and used in its stead. If a practising shot-line is used, it must be removed from pins, and fired from the box precisely as in actual service. The use of powder will be dispensed with when the supply on hand is reduced to three pounds, at which time the district superintendent or resident assistant inspector will be notified.
“172. Boat practice will consist in launching and landing through the surf, and at least one half-hour’s exercise of the men in handling their oars, as directed in the prescribed boat-drill. Going off and landing through the surf will not be sufficient to enter upon the journal as practice.
“173. Practice of resuscitation will consist in each member of the crew repeating the rules, as hereinafter provided, using the words of the book, and afterwards illustrating them by manipulations upon the succeeding member of the crew. Thus, the keeper will work upon Surfman No. 1, No. 1 upon No. 2, etc., and No. 7 upon the keeper. At the close of this exercise the keeper will open the medicine-chest, and question each man upon the uses of the remedies contained therein.
“174. Practice with the International Code Signals will consist in questions by the keeper to each member of the crew upon the colors of the different flags, the definitions of the two-, three-, and four-flag hoists and the distinguishing flag or pennant of each, the part of the code-book necessary to turn to when reading and when making a signal, etc., and in actual conversation or communication by means of the miniature signals provided for each station.
“175. In fine weather signals and books may be borrowed for one day from the adjacent station, and by erecting a temporary pole, the crew practised in the use of flags, which will fix the method of their use in the mind more effectively than any other practice.
“176. No departure from the prescribed drill for the use of the beach-apparatus in any of its details will be made by district superintendents or other officers without the sanction of the General Superintendent, previously obtained.”
Benny read all this carefully, as if trying to fix the whole upon his memory, and then asked:
“What is the ‘active season’?”
“That’s when we begin work in the fall. You must know that all the crew don’t stay here during the summer. The active season is from September 1st to May 1st; but the keeper holds on the year round.”
“Are you a surfman?” Benny asked after a pause.
“No, my son, I’m only the cook, and hired by the men, instead of the Government, so you see I don’t come in for all these long hours. My work is no harder in stormy weather, while then it is that every other man is on duty all the time. I have seen this same crew worked forty hours on a stretch, wet to the skin and half frozen, with never a single word of complaint. They are just putting off in the surf-boat, and I reckon it would be worth your while to watch them, Benny. We’ve got the dinner so far along that there’s nothing to be done for a spell, so you and Fluff C. Foster had best stay out in the open air while you can.”
The lad had a strong desire to see the crew afloat, otherwise he might not have taken advantage of the permission while there was any work to be performed.
Fluff had remained in the chair like an obedient dog that he could be when so disposed; but he came down after the fashion of an exceedingly small and very white whirlwind at the first word from his master.
“Be careful that old Maje ain’t layin’ anywhere outside on the watch,” the cook cried; but Benny believed there was no necessity for him to be over-cautious regarding the safety of his pet. Fluff’s experience with the big dog had been such that he did not intend giving Maje another opportunity of playing ball with him; he marched sedately and very close at Benny’s heels from the station, down to that point on the shore overlooking the reef on which the Amazonia had gone to pieces.
It was the first time the lad had seen the wreck of the ship which served him as a home during so many months, because every member of the crew had taken especial care to prevent his wandering in that direction.
On this morning the men most likely believed Benny would be employed in the kitchen, and, perhaps, expected the cook would prevent him from going out on the shore; but if the latter had thought of the matter at all, it was probably with the idea that the boy must at some time see the small portion of the ship which remained on the rocks, and as well then as at any other.
At all events, he allowed his assistant to go out as has been seen, and instantly Benny came in view of these vestiges of disaster all the sorrow of the past came over him like a flood, drowning for the time being every other thought save of that night, when he alone out of all the ship’s company came safely to land.
Seated upon the rocks he buried his face in Fluff’s silken hair, and gave way once more to his grief. Then, the outburst of tears having in a measure soothed him, he looked out upon the frowning reef whereon the Amazonia ended her cruise.
The forward portion of the dismembered hull, with the foremast still standing, and a few timbers of the after portion, was all that remained to tell of the stately vessel which had plowed her way through so many oceans only to meet with disaster when virtually within sight of the home port.
“It won’t do for us to be crying all the time, Fluff, else the crew will get tired, and think perhaps we’d better find some other job; but we shall keep on feeling sorry just so long as we live because the captain and Mrs. Clark didn’t come ashore with us.”
It was his own words which reminded Benny of the fact that the bodies of those who had been drowned would, in the ordinary course of events, be washed ashore, and at the very moment this came into his mind he saw the life-saving crew taking from the wreckage what was unquestionably a human body.
“Oh, Fluff, Fluff, it may be our captain that they have found! We can’t stay here and see them bring him ashore!”
Hugging the dog so tightly that the little fellow uttered a low cry of protest, Benny ran back to the station, and there it was necessary to explain to the cook why his eyes were red and swollen from weeping.
“No, my son, it’s not the captain’s body they have found, for that was carried into the city last night, together with the remains of his wife and some of the sailors. You were sent out on patrol with Sam Hardy and Joe Cushing so you shouldn’t see what was being done; but it had to be known, and now it is as good a time as any other for you to be told.”
Benny tried unsuccessfully to check his tears, and the cook, observing the struggle, said in a kindly tone:
“Look here, lad; you’ve had in your short life a good bit of sadness, an’ it ain’t to be wondered at that this last blow comes mighty tough. Now take my advice, and have a solid cry. Go back into the thicket, for there’s no need of your seein’ what the crew will bring ashore, if it so be you were not mistaken about what was taken from the wreck. Go back into the thicket with the dog, and stay there till I call you for dinner. It’ll help you out, and prevent some ugly sights.”
Benny hesitated. This running away from work in order to spare himself additional sorrow was not to his mind manly, and he feared lest those who had constituted themselves his guardians might censure him for so doing.
“I can’t help feeling bad; but that ain’t any reason why I shouldn’t stay where I belong, for no matter how much work I do, it won’t be possible to pay Fluff’s board and mine. I think perhaps I ought to hold on right here.”
“Do as I tell you, my boy. I’ll explain to the men when they come in, and you may be certain that the keeper himself would give the same advice in the form of an order, if he was ashore. There’s no reason to take more bitter things in this life than is necessary; so be off with you, and I’ll answer for it that Fluff C. Foster won’t object to a tramp through the woods.”
Benny could do no less than act upon this suggestion, which was at the same time a command, and with Fluff under his arm he set off, not daring to turn his head seaward lest he should see the crew engaged in their gruesome work.
Once within the shelter of the pine trees, where patches of brown moss could be seen here and there, much to the delight of Fluff, Benny gave way to his gloomy thoughts until the antics of the dog, overjoyed at having this opportunity for a scamper after so many months of life on shipboard, aroused him from his mournful revery.
Then, and he blamed himself most severely for finding it possible to do other than mourn at such a time, he yielded to the dog’s mute entreaties, and the two ran here and there under the trees, the low moaning of the murderous surf alone breaking the silence, until the cook’s cries told that the noon-day meal was ready.
When Benny answered the summons the boat-room door was closed, and he believed this had been done to shut out from view those forms which had come ashore from the Amazonia.
During the three days which elapsed after the crew began work on the wreck Benny found sufficient with which to occupy his time.
From early morning until after dinner he was engaged in the kitchen, or in setting to rights the different apartments of the station, and the result of his work was soon apparent. Never before during the active season had the interior of the building been so cleanly, and the men were delighted with the agreeable change.
“You’re what might be called an A 1 housekeeper, Benjamin,” Tom Downey said one day as he returned to the station unexpectedly and found the lad washing the floor of the sleeping room. “All hands of us turn to and clean up once a week, according to the rules and regulations, but somehow we don’t get it as neat as you do, and it’s littered up in great shape forty-eight hours later. Now, everything is bright and clean as a new pin, and I reckon we’re gettin’ the best of this guardianship business.”
“I’m glad if you think I’m paying our board, sir,” Benny replied, pleased because of the praise bestowed upon him.
“You’re doing more than that, my lad, an’ we must hit upon some plan of squaring matters. A lad who takes it upon himself to see that our outside clothing is properly dried after we come in from a day’s work is worth considerably more than what he and an imitation dog can eat, to say nothing of the other duties you have assumed.”
“If you’ll be as pleased to have me here as I am to stay, it’ll be a big thing for Fluff an’ me, sir.”
“I allow matters are about in that shape already, and we’ll see if something in the way of an allowance can’t be made for the extra work you’re doing.”
“Do you mean that you’ll pay me money, sir?”
“That’s what the boys are talking about. You see we count on your going to school next season, and you must have a nest-egg before then, in order to pay your way.”
“I’d rather it shouldn’t be done, sir,” Benny replied gravely. “It’s mighty good of you to say I’m helpin’ along; but I’m sure this kind of work isn’t worth more than our board. If the men would be willing to teach me the rules of the service, and let me join in the drill sometimes, I’d be glad.”
“What’s your idea in doing that, Benjamin?”
“If I knew how to handle a boat in the surf, and could go through the drill, perhaps I might get a job as a surfman.”
Tom Downey laughed loudly, until noting the red flush which crept over the lad’s face, when he checked his mirth suddenly, as he said seriously:
“You’re not much bigger than a peanut, Benny, and I’m afraid you wouldn’t cut any figger in a boat.”
“But I’m bound to grow, sir. Of course I couldn’t do anything of the kind now, but after a spell perhaps I’ll be big enough.”
“Why do you want to get into the service, lad? Every member of a crew takes his life in his hand when there’s work to be done, and you’ve already had a chance to see that the duties are not only dangerous, but severe.”
“Yes, sir; but whenever you save a man from drowning it must make you feel mighty good, and that squares up for all the hard work. I’d rather be a regular member of the crew than anything else.”
“That comes of your having been thrown among us; but once you go out into the world you’ll have different ideas.”
“I’ve seen quite a bit of it already, sir, and never thought so much of what I might be able to do,” Benny replied meekly.
“I’ll admit, lad, that you’ve knocked around considerable for one of your age—seen more of the world than any of us; but—I’ll tell you what it is, Benny, you shall learn the drill, and when spring comes we’ll show you how to handle a boat, although I’m not certain any of the crew would agree to your entering this branch of the service.”
The conversation came to an end at this point for the time being, so far as Benny was concerned; but when Tom Downey had an opportunity of speaking privately with the crew, he repeated all that had been said, treating the matter as if it gave him no slight degree of pleasure because the lad was inclined to enter the service.
“I’ll answer for it he shall know how to handle a surf-boat ’twixt now and next summer,” Sam Hardy said decidedly. “That boy has got sand, an’ a good deal of it, else he’d never worked in as he has here.”
“If his mind is set on such a life, I’m another as will help the little whifflet along,” Joe Cushing added with a laugh, and although no lengthy discussion was indulged in at the time, all the crew appeared to consider it as settled that Benny should be instructed in the duties of life-saving.
It is not to be supposed that the boy worked every moment of daylight. After the dishes used at dinner had been washed, the cook insisted that he go out of doors with Fluff, and the pine grove was his favorite playground. Here, despite the cold weather, he roamed to and fro while the dog chased imaginary squirrels and his own shadow, until the frosty air drove both inside the station again.
It was while he was enjoying his “outing” that the bodies lately recovered from the Amazonia were removed by the coroner, and Benny asked no questions concerning them. There was in his mind the fear that by speaking of the wreck, when it would be impossible to control his sorrow, he might displease those who were so kind, and all this he kept a secret from every one save Fluff.
When he was alone with the dog, however, and the moaning and roaring of the surf told of what had been done on that forbidding coast, he poured out all his heart to Fluff, and those who had gone into the Unknown from the decks of the Amazonia had at least one sincere mourner.
Each evening Benny accompanied one or the other of the men on patrol duty, and appeared to take the liveliest interest at all times in watching for signs of some craft in distress. At every convenient opportunity during the day he visited the lookout on the bluff, and when not otherwise engaged pored over the regulations of the service until, as Joe Cushing said, he believed the lad “could come near to repeating every word in the book.”
During three days of pleasant weather the crew brought on shore the little which could be saved from what remained of the Amazonia, and the men had settled down to a round of routine duty.
It was Sam Hardy’s turn to begin the patrol work of the night, and, much to Benny’s satisfaction, he called upon the lad to accompany him.
“I’m thinkin’ it will be your last chance for some time, according to the indications, and I’ll set myself down as a Dutchman if we don’t have a blow ’twixt now and mornin’ that will go ahead of anything you ever saw on this coast.”
Now that Fluff C. Foster was well acquainted with the members of the crew, Benny did not consider it necessary to carry his pet whenever he went out, therefore the dog was left behind, and, well wrapped in thick clothing, Benny set off, having received the assurance from Sam that he would be allowed to share in the entire four hours of duty.
The wind had increased in force until it was difficult to make one’s way over the bold headlands through the snow, and more than once did Sam Hardy find it necessary to seek a shelter while he rested from the severe labor.
An unusually vigilant watch was kept over the broad expanse of waters, for this was a time when the life savers along the coast knew their services would most likely be needed. There would probably be some vessels, through carelessness, ignorance, or mishap, in distress, and whatever of peril might await them, the men of the service must be prepared to put off in their boats for a battle with the raging waters.
“This wind is gettin’ into shape for a regular tearer,” Sam said when the two, partially sheltered by the rocks, stood peering out over the heaving waters. “Them as are outside to-morrow morning will do well to see that they have plenty of sea-room.”
Already had the first particles of snow begun to fall, and the air was rapidly growing colder.
“It ain’t often we have two big storms so near together; but it’s coming this time, an’ I’m mistaken if we don’t have plenty of work before the sun sets to-morrow.”
“It doesn’t seem possible you could see very far after it begins to snow.”
“We can’t, lad, an’ that’s a fact; but I allow our eyes do better service than those that haven’t been trained to the work. There’s Dick Sawyer, for instance, he’s by far the best man among us in this kind of work. I’ve been with him when it seemed as if he smelled a vessel, for he’s struck his signal when I couldn’t see six inches before my nose, an’ I never knew him to go wrong. But we can’t loaf here much longer if we count on covering our beat in the regulation time.”
It was as if the storm had begun without warning. The first particles had no more than fallen when the air seemed thick with swirling wreaths that struck the skin like needle-points, and were forced by the increasing wind through every aperture in one’s clothing.
Benny found it necessary to shield his eyes, because of the pain caused by the icy particles, and could give little heed to his footsteps, but followed directly behind his companion.
Sam, on the contrary, appeared to suffer no especial inconvenience; he kept constant watch over the sea, although at times it was necessary to cover his eyes, and breasted his way against the wind as if finding real pleasure in the struggle.
“I’m sorry you came to-night, lad,” he said when they paused for an instant. “My idea was that this flurry would hold off till past midnight, or you wouldn’t have had a chance to show your nose outside the station.”
“I’d been sorry if you hadn’t let me come, ’cause I’ll never make any fist at being a surfman by staying under cover all the time.”
“It ain’t my plan to coddle you up, Benjamin; but at the same time there’s no good reason why you should get it quite so tough at the start. You won’t learn much——”
Sam paused as, sheltering his eyes, he gazed steadily seaward, and Benny tried in vain to discover what had thus attracted his companion’s attention.
During fully a minute the surfman stood immovable as a statue, regardless of the howling wind and stinging snow, and then muttered half to himself, as he drew from his pocket one of the Coston signals:
“The work has begun sooner than I counted on.”
“What do you mean?” Benny asked anxiously.
“There’s a three-masted schooner less than a mile away, I should say, and doing her best to crawl off from the land.”
Benny strained his eyes to pierce the fleecy cloud which enveloped him; but nothing save the swirling wreaths could be distinguished.
“I can’t make out anything,” he exclaimed in a tone of regret.
“And it ain’t to be wondered at, lad. Wait until you’ve been on patrol duty a dozen nights like this, and you’ll find it a different matter. I can see the schooner now an’ then, an’ allow she’s got a fore-staysail, reefed foresail, and spanker set; but don’t seem to be crawling off very fast. We’ll let her know that the crew at this station ain’t asleep.”
While speaking he had inserted the signal in its wooden handle, and as he concluded, struck it sharply against a rock.
There was a crackling and spitting of fire for an instant, after which the light burned out with apparently almost as much brilliancy as that displayed from the lighthouse a short distance away, and the glare literally blinded Benny.
When it died away the night seemed yet darker than before, and the lad peered straight ahead in the direction pointed out by Sam until he fancied he saw a tiny flare appear and disappear at brief intervals.
“They have seen us,” Sam said in a tone of satisfaction. “That wisp of flame was their answer, and I allow by its having been given so quickly that all hands understand they’d better have headed for deep water sooner. Word must be taken to the station, and I’m doubtful about leavin’ here. I wonder could you find your way back, Benny?”
“Of course I could, and I’ll be mighty glad of the chance to try. What shall I tell the keeper?”
“I am not so certain that I’ve got any right to let you take the chances, for in this storm a lad who is green at the business can easily get bewildered.”
“I shan’t,” Benny replied quickly. “Please let me go, Mr. Hardy, for it’ll show that I can be of some little help in the work, and perhaps the men will think I may be a surfman in time, even if I am small.”
“You shall make the venture, my boy. Do you hear that whistle now and then?”
“I have been hearing it for some time, sir. There must be a steamer near by.”
“Why, bless your soul, Benny, haven’t you found out by this time that there’s a steam fog-horn near the lighthouse. I counted on their setting it going when this smother first gave signs of coming.”
Benny remembered now that the cook had pointed out to him a small brick building painted white, which had at one side a curiously shaped funnel, and told him this last was the fog-horn; but other matters were occupying his mind at the time, and he gave little heed to the information.
“Keep straight on after that sound,” Sam said as he saw to it that Benny’s coat was closely buttoned. “Don’t try to travel too fast, for there’s plenty of time. Even if that craft comes to grief, she won’t strike inside of an hour. When you get to the station there’s nothing to be done save tell the keeper what we’ve seen, and that the schooner lays off Skinner’s Point.”
“Shall I come back, sir?”
“Come back through this storm, Benny? Why, you’re crazy! There’s such a thing as learning a surfman’s duties; but attempting to find me out here in this swirl ain’t one of ’em. Even if I was fool enough to say you might try it, the rest of the crew would take good care you didn’t get outside the station again. Now be off, lad, and keep your wits well about you. Remember that you’ll bring up nearabout the building if you follow the sound of the whistle.”
Benny was proud indeed as he began what unquestionably was, for a person unfamiliar with the locality, a perilous journey.
There was in his mind the knowledge that he was taking some slight part in the work of life-saving, and that by his making this venture Sam Hardy could remain on duty where he might possibly be of great assistance to those who were in danger.
To push on alone over the rocks, through drifts of snow, beaten and buffeted by the wind, and half blinded by the icy particles, was entirely different from following behind Sam. Previously he had been partially sheltered by the surfman’s body; but now it was necessary to breast the storm alone, and there were many times when he found it literally impossible to proceed, for the wind came in spiteful gusts that nearly threw him from his feet.
Many times did he unconsciously turn aside from the direct course, and when the whistle sounded again he was forced to make a detour in this direction or that, at the cost of many additional steps. Then again it was as if the heavy booming came from all sides, and save for the fact that he remained motionless until the force of the wind lessened, he might have lost his way completely.
Although the air was bitterly cold Benny was hardly aware of the fact; the severe labor of making his way through the drifts and against the blasts warmed his body until he perspired even at the same time that his hands and face were chilled by the frost.
When he came upon the light of the station, suddenly, as it were, it appeared to him as if a full hour must have been spent in the journey, and now that the task was accomplished it seemed impossible he could have continued on five minutes longer.
There was no need for him to explain why he had returned alone. The waiting crew, fearing news of disaster, understood at once that Sam Hardy would not have sent the boy back unless he had grave reasons for doing so, and before Benny could speak Dick Sawyer cried:
“What have you seen, lad?”
Benny understood that his report should be made to the keeper, and, therefore, instead of answering Sawyer’s question, he turned to Mr. Downey, describing what Hardy had seen.
“Off Skinner’s Point, eh?” Downey said as he took from the pegs where it was hanging, his suit of oiled clothing. “How far away?”
“Mr. Hardy said about a mile; but I didn’t see any sign of a vessel, except when the little light showed itself.”
“You’ll need to go on patrol more than once, lad,” Joe Cushing said with a laugh, “before you’ll make much of a fist at seeing a craft a mile away on such a night as this.”
“I’ll get so I can in time, if you allow me to go out on patrol,” Benny replied confidently, and then, turning to the keeper, he added, “Mr. Hardy said I wasn’t to come back; but if there’s any message you’d like sent him, sir, I’m certain I can carry it.”
“Would you be willing to go through this storm from here to Skinner’s Point when there was no real need of it?”
“If there was a chance I might be of service, I’d be glad to, sir, and, besides, such work as that would be helping me along in learning a surfman’s duties.”
“It seems a cruel thing to do,” Downey said half to himself; “but I’ve a mind to let you go with us.”
“If you only would, sir!”
“What about leavin’ Fluff C. Foster alone? All hands of us, except the cook, must go.”
“Fluff will behave himself, I’m certain, for he doesn’t make any trouble when I tell him he must stay alone.”
“Thaw yourself a bit by the fire while we’re getting the beach-wagon out, and then you shall do your share of the work, unless it so chances we’re forced to launch the boat.”
During this time every member of the crew had been preparing for the arduous labor before him, and the men were in readiness when Keeper Downey led the way toward the door.
Benny had no idea of spending valuable time in front of the fire. He delayed only an instant to pet Fluff, and whisper in the dog’s ear that it was necessary he remain inside the building quietly.
“You see I’m going to take my first lesson as a surfman, Fluffy, and it’s as much to your interest as mine that I do it, because we’ve got to pay our way somehow, and it can’t always be done by washing dishes and clearing up the house. Now be a good dog, and don’t go outside, for you’d surely get lost in the snow.”
Then Benny replenished the fire, throwing on sufficient coal to keep it glowing several hours at least, and, closing the door behind him lest Fluff should be tempted to disobey his command, joined the men at the door of the boat-room.
Four of the crew were putting the drag-ropes over their shoulders; Joe Cushing and Keeper Downey were at the handles, although had the full crew been present Sam would have occupied the position which was now filled by the keeper, and the latter’s station would have been at the rear of the cart.
“You shall take my place, Benny, which is behind. Don’t exert yourself to push too strongly; but you may pull back the best you know how when we are going downhill.”
“There’ll be little holding back needed through this snow,” Joe said with a cheery laugh, such as he might have indulged in had they been setting out on some pleasure excursion.
Benny had studied a diagram in the Revised Regulations, showing how the beach-wagon should be manned, as given below, therefore knew exactly what were his duties.
He heeded not the excessive labor which was before them in dragging the cart more than half a mile over the rocks and through the snow-drifts, because of the proud satisfaction which was his in thus being allowed to share the duties of the men.
The crew set off at a slow pace. It was reasonable to suppose, however imminent the danger which threatened the schooner, that some considerable time must elapse before they could begin the work of life-saving, and it was necessary to husband their strength because of the difficult and protracted task before them.
Benny asked himself, even as they started, how it would be possible to drag the heavy wagon over the course traversed by the patrol, for he knew that in many places they would be forced to clamber up cliff-like masses of rocks, and again drag the wagon through the drifts of snow that under other circumstances would seem impassable.
The crew, however, appeared to give no heed to the difficulties in the way; but set out on this journey which, fatiguing as it must be, was but the beginning of their night of work.
The men pressed forward, dragging the heavy load steadily, but at moderate speed.
Keeper Downey was too good a captain to urge his crew to their utmost efforts at the beginning of the journey, lest he exhaust them before the task was accomplished. He also knew that their services were not needed immediately, otherwise Sam Hardy would have burned another signal, and again, a conclusion much to be desired, the vessel might succeed in working off from the dangerous situation.
“Slow and sure is better than rapid and uncertain,” the keeper shouted cheerily, and Benny was surprised that the crew should appear almost eager for the work, which, under the most favoring circumstances in case the schooner struck, would be severe and attended with great suffering. He shivered as he realized that perhaps soon the clothing of these brave fellows, wet with spray, would be converted into an armor of ice, which they must wear as best they might on this bitter winter’s night until the task of life-saving was accomplished, or proven to be fruitless.
The cheeriness of the men was by no means allied to mirth. They were setting out, perchance, to battle face to face with death, and realized to the utmost all the dangers and the suffering which awaited them. It could also be told, from a certain manner apparent in all, that their thoughts were with those poor fellows whose craft was drifting on to the cruel rocks, rather than upon the possible labor which might be demanded of them.
Now and then as they paused for an instant, while making ready to haul the wagon over some miniature cliff, one of the crew referred to the anxiety which must be in the hearts of those aboard the schooner, and another expressed satisfaction that the imperilled mariners knew there were on the shore waiting to succor them, men who were provided with every known method for saving life under such circumstances.
All the while as these men spoke one with another evincing anxiety for strangers, they were fighting against the furious wind and driving particles of frost, and even at times, when their way lay near the water’s edge, against the volumes of surf which were flung landward by the angry blasts.
There was no moment when the progress was other than extremely difficult, and Benny was absolutely obliged at times to allow them to drag him at the tail of the cart, else he would have been left far behind; but yet those brave fellows had not a word, perhaps not a thought, concerning their own labor or peril.
“Half-way to Skinner’s Point!” Joe Cushing shouted as they mounted a hill of brown rock from which the snow had been driven, and stood for a single instant to regain their breath. “Half-way to Skinner’s Point, and no signal from Sam! Who can see the schooner?”
Every eye had been directed seaward when they first gained the elevation, but it was as if the wind drove the snow yet more compactly, and the oldest surfman among them failed to see objects at a distance of fifty feet.
“God help the men who are drifting on to the coast this night!” Keeper Downey muttered, and then added in a cheery tone, “Get on, boys! Get on! You’ll freeze if you stand loitering here, and exercise is what all of us are most needing just now.”
Benny shut his teeth tightly together when, from the movement of the wagon he knew the men were settling forward in the rope harness again, and determined to so husband his strength during the remainder of the journey that when they came to the more difficult portions of the road he might be able to lend some assistance, even though feeble, rather than act the part of a drag on the load.
During fifteen minutes more the men pulled and tugged, straining every muscle to drag the heavily laden wagon over the difficult way, and then as if by common consent another halt was made.
“We should be seeing the schooner by this time, unless she has succeeded in crawling off from the land,” Keeper Downey said, letting go his hold on the cart as he advanced to the edge of the rocky cliffs and looked out over the waters.
No more than five hundred yards in distance lay between them and the dreaded Skinner’s Point, where so many vessels had met their doom, yet the driving snow shut out all save immediate objects from their view.
Nothing had been seen or heard from Sam Hardy, and even the keeper began to believe that possibly the danger had been averted from this particular vessel.
Again Downey gave the word to push on; again the men strained at the ropes and the handle-bar, and again they were advancing on their mission of mercy.
Now no one spoke; each man was too far spent with toil to dare waste breath in cheering his comrades.
Then, and it seemed to Benny as if they had but just started on this last stage of the journey, a glow was seen dead ahead through the bewildering maze of dancing, whirling snow, and an exclamation of sorrow burst from the lips of every one.
“She has struck, boys, and now we’re to work for their lives!” Keeper Downey shouted, his words causing each member of the crew to leap forward with renewed vigor, as if the knowledge of peril to others had taken from him all sensation of weariness.
Benny understood from these words that the light which had been seen was Sam’s signal telling that the schooner had struck the rocks, and what was much like a fever came over him as he exerted all his puny strength to forcing the wagon-load of life-saving appliances on yet faster.
It was a race between the life savers and death, and by no possibility could they have won had Keeper Downey been so unwise as to push them to their utmost speed when first setting out from the station. Now that the supreme struggle was at hand they had a reserve of strength which bore them on to partial victory.
Just how they finally succeeded in gaining the point where Sam Hardy stood peering intently out over the waste of boiling waters, Benny never knew. The last five minutes of that mad scramble was to him as a dream, in which he was conscious only of making every effort to press forward, lest by faltering he should be deemed unworthy a place among those whom he considered true heroes. He knew, however, that they were come to the spot where the work could be performed, because of hearing Tom Downey cry sharply as each man dropped the harness of rope to run back to the wagon and take up his proper station:
“Stand aside, lad, and make it your business to keep out of the way.”
Benny understood that there was nothing for him to do in the way of lending aid, and realized he could only show that he might be of some service in the future by following the instructions to the letter.
Now had come the moment when the lad could appreciate the value of the drilling which the men were forced to undergo day after day.
Every member of the crew knew exactly what he should do, and did it as methodically and quickly as if on the drill-ground back of the station.
While the captain slung the haversack containing the ammunition over his shoulders, Sam threw the buoy off the cart. Henderson, Jones, and Brown unloaded the shovel, pick, and sand-anchor, and proceeded at once to fasten the latter at a point already decided upon by Mr. Downey. Cushing and Robbins took out the shot-line box. The captain and Hardy placed the cannon a short distance to the windward of the wagon, and the box was set down on a line with the muzzle of the gun.
The keeper loaded with cartridges, Hardy brought the shot, which he held for the captain to wipe, and then inserted it into the bore of the gun, forcing it down firmly on the charge. Joe Cushing wet a fathom of the shot-line and bent it into the shank of the shot with three half-hitches, without disturbing the fakes, and without leaving any slack line between the gun and the shot-line box.
Hardy and Cushing, kneeling either side of the cannon, trained the muzzle to the right or the left as Downey commanded. While this was being done Sawyer unloaded and carried the crotch (two pieces of wood formed after the fashion of the letter X) to a point near the shore, in a line between the sand anchor and the wreck.
Even Benny, who knew nothing of such labor, understood that many seconds of valuable time must have been saved by the crew being so familiar with all the details of the work, and accustomed to performing each portion of it in like manner every time.
A description of the men at work is given at this moment in order that one may know exactly how a life-saving crew goes to work, and it must not be supposed that Keeper Downey’s men, or even Benny Foster, directed their gaze all the time toward these operations, without glancing seaward where was the noble vessel grinding her life out upon the cruel rocks, as her crew looked down into the face of what would have been certain death but for the presence of those brave fellows on the bluff.
When the men halted with the wagon, and even while they were removing the implements, every one could see the schooner as she lay not more than a hundred and fifty yards from the shore, heading directly toward them.
So large was she, and with her sails holding back, as it were, much of the snow, even Benny could distinguish her quite distinctly, and while his comrades labored as do men who work in defence of their lives, he saw portions of rail and deck torn off piece-meal by the waves which were striking sledge-hammer blows against the side of the doomed craft, each one sounding, even above the howling of the blasts, like the booming of a cannon.
Seven men could be made out now and then when the snow wreaths were less dense, in various places of refuge about the wreck; three were aloft in the port mizzen-rigging, one in the port fore-rigging, and three about the forecastle, or in the bowsprit. In these positions they remained apparently immovable. It was to Benny as if they were frozen beyond the power of movement, as indeed might have been the case, for the night was bitterly cold.
So near the shore did the wreck lay that it seemed impossible Downey could miss his aim.
Benny heard Joe Cushing say:
“With five ounces of powder and a No. 9 shot-line bent on, there should be no trouble in opening communication with those poor fellows.”
Then the keeper had adjusted the piece and pulled the lanyard.
Benny saw a tongue of flame leap out from the mouth of the gun, and as the shot sped through the air, the line, so carefully laid in the faking-box, uncoiled length by length, until suddenly and without apparent cause it parted.
The shot sped on; but fully two thirds of the line remained in the box.
In the shortest possible space of time, and without unnecessary words, the cannon was reloaded with the same amount of powder and the same-sized line as before.
Once more appeared the tongue of flame. In the midst of it the lad, who hardly breathed because of his excitement, saw the missile as it sped onward true to its aim, dragging after it length upon length of thin line which unloosed from the box in the most perfect fashion, and then a loud cry of triumph went up from the brave fellows who had expended so much labor to aid the unfortunate mariners.
Even in the gloom and amid the falling snow one could see that narrow, black thread as it lay fairly across the wreck just forward of the mizzen-rigging, and within easy reach of the sailors in the vicinity; but yet no one of that imperiled crew left his place of refuge to seize upon it.
Just for an instant the life savers on the shore stood in amazement. They had laid to hand a means of escape, and yet those who were so near death had not moved a finger toward availing themselves of the opportunity.
“They are most likely frozen into helplessness,” Keeper Downey cried. “Let’s give them one more line, boys, and this time we’ll send it farther forward. There must be some one on that schooner who can help himself, as least so far as to haul in the rope.”
Rapidly as the life savers worked before, they moved yet more quickly now that it was understood those whom they would rescue were so nearly unable to aid themselves.
It seemed to Benny as if he had no more than time to count ten before the third faking-box had been brought from the wagon, and the gun was reloaded, re-aimed, and discharged.
Again he saw the narrow black line amid the white, drifting snow. Again a cry of triumph went up from those whom he called his comrades, and this time the line lay directly across the deck of the schooner just abaft the fore-rigging, where the sailor on the port side might reach it without so much as leaving his station.
After five seconds, perhaps, this man, whose garments had almost been brushed by the line-carrying shot, made no motion, and then slowly, as if it required all his strength to move so much as a finger, the unfortunate sailor stretched forth his hand until he grasped that narrow cord which alone remained between him and death.
“He can’t haul it in!” Sam Hardy cried in dismay. “It’s more than he can do to raise his arm.”
If the crew of the schooner could not second the efforts of the life savers, then indeed were they not rescued, for no man might get through that surf from the shore to the schooner, and the life-boat could not be used because of shallow water and rocks.
Every man on the bluff shouted words of encouragement which could not be heard by those for whom they were intended; but it seemed impossible to remain quiet while the half-dead sailors stood within reach of help, and yet were unable to grasp it.
It was to Benny as if a full hour passed, although in fact perhaps not more than three or four minutes elapsed before the man in the fore-rigging succeeded in thrashing his arms together, most likely to break the ice which, forming over his garments, encased him as if in bonds of iron, and then, slowly at first, but more rapidly as the seconds passed, he succeeded in recovering the use of his limbs until he reached down and caught up the line.
Now it was a shout of triumph which went up from those on the bluff, and the anxious lad who was bending forward over the very edge of the rocks believed the sailor heard the cry, for it was as if something suddenly animated him. He began hauling in on this means of escape from the angry waters as he turned his head toward those in the mizzen-rigging, evidently urging them to come to his assistance.
Each instant was fraught with danger for those upon the wreck. Plank by plank the schooner was being torn to pieces by the irresistible force of the towering waves, and it needed not that one should be versed in such matters to understand that before many moments passed one or all of the spars must go by the board.
Now that the sailor on the wreck was hauling in the shot-line, the crew set about making the necessary arrangements for sending aboard the hawser, and before this had been completed Benny shouted, although speaking to no one in particular:
“The men in the mizzen-rigging are coming down! They are going to help themselves!”
It was as the lad had said, for soon all save two on the forecastle were hauling on the tackle which was made fast to the shot-line, and in perhaps ten minutes from the time the last missile was fired across the deck of the wreck, the sailors had succeeded in attaching the tail-block to the mainmast.
Now even Benny could be of assistance in manning the whip to haul the breeches-buoy out to the ship.