THE BOY SCOUTS
OF THE
LIFE SAVING CREW

BY
SCOUT MASTER ROBERT SHALER

AUTHOR OF “BOY SCOUTS OF THE SIGNAL CORPS,” “BOY SCOUTS OF PIONEER CAMP,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY,” “BOY SCOUTS ON PICKET DUTY,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE FLYING SQUADRON,” “BOY SCOUTS AND THE PRIZE PENNANT,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE NAVAL RESERVE,” “BOY SCOUTS IN THE SADDLE,” “BOY SCOUTS FOR CITY IMPROVEMENT,” ETC., ETC.

NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Sterling
Boy Scout Books

By Scout Master Robert Shaler

Bound in cloth Ten titles

1 Boy Scouts of the Signal Corps. 2 Boy Scouts of Pioneer Camp. 3 Boy Scouts of the Geological Survey. 4 Boy Scouts of the Life Saving Crew. 5 Boy Scouts on Picket Duty. 6 Boy Scouts of the Flying Squadron. 7 Boy Scouts and the Prize Pennant. 8 Boy Scouts of the Naval Reserve. 9 Boy Scouts in the Saddle. 10 Boy Scouts for City Improvement.

You can purchase any of the above books at the price you paid for this one, or the publishers will send any book, postpaid, upon receipt of 25c.

HURST & CO., Publishers
432 Fourth Avenue, New York

Copyright, 1914, by Hurst & Company.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I. [Out on the Trestle] 5 II. [The Rescue] 17 III. [Coming Events] 27 IV. [Plans and Projects] 37 V. [A Visit of Inspection] 48 VI. [The Beach Patrols] 59 VII. [The Stranded Schooner] 69 VIII. [The Rescue] 78 IX. [Home Again—and Away] 87 X. [The Silver King] 95 XI. [Down the Coast] 105 XII. [At the Lighthouse] 115 XIII. [Saved from the Storm] 126 XIV. [Captain Bowling’s Story] 133 XV. [Into the Everglades] 140 XVI. [The Friendly Seminoles] 150

The Boy Scouts of the Life Saving Crew.

CHAPTER I.
OUT ON THE TRESTLE.

“We’re almost there now,” said Alec Sands as he steered the big touring car around a curve in the road and out upon a long stretch of hard, smooth, well-oiled clay. “Unless I’m mistaken, that white church spire over there beyond the fringe of palm trees marks the end of our journey. I really didn’t know it was going to be such a long run, or I’d have told Bronson to send some lunch with us.”

“Wish you had!” Chester Brownell exclaimed, leaning back in his seat in the tonneau. “I’m almost starved!”

“I reckon we can make up for it to-night,” added Billy Worth, who sat in front beside Alec. “This Santario is quite a place, isn’t it, Alec?”

“I think so,” answered young Sands. “From what I’ve heard, I guess it’s a sizable town now, though only a few years ago it was a mere village inhabited by fishermen. Someone discovered that the soil two miles inland from the village was suited for raising oranges, so he bought up several acres and planted an orange grove. Since then others have followed the leader, and now the village has grown so large that the oldest inhabitant can hardly recognize it.”

The three young tourists who were speeding along at a good thirty miles an hour, were all members of a troop of Boy Scouts whose summer headquarters were located at Pioneer Lake, “up North.” Alec Sands, the captain of the Otter patrol, and Billy Worth, a member of the Wolf patrol, had been prominent in many of the contests held at Pioneer Camp. Chester Brownell of the Otters was less well known to the boys of the troop, but Alec had come to know him at Hilltop School and had found in him a promising athlete.

At this time the boys were far away from the scene of their earlier adventures, being on a visit at the winter residence of Alec’s parents—Palmdune, a splendid mansion near a picturesque old town on the Florida seacoast.

It was early spring and the weather had not yet begun to be oppressively warm. Indeed, the nights were still cold with frequent threats of frost,—that dread enemy of the budding orange groves. Alternating with days and nights of mild stillness were intervals of semi-storm, of rough winds that swept the low-lying shore and menaced coastwise shipping with the danger of being blown landward upon the numerous sandbars and keys.

Like other towns and villages in that part of the country, Santario had thrived all winter on the influx of wealthy Northerners who were accustomed to spend “the worst months of the year” there. And now these pleasant resorts were just beginning to slide back into their usual grooves of inactivity, and to have the quiet, unruffled appearance which was most familiar though not most welcome to their oldest inhabitants. Claynor, the nearest railway station to Santario, was the town where the three boys had spent that day. The place was rich with interesting historical associations, and they had enjoyed visiting it. Its little museum contained many relics not only of the earliest Spanish colonists but also of the later wars with the Seminole Indians under their great chief Osceola. At present the boys were returning, late in the afternoon, to Palmdune, where Alec hoped to have another guest for the Easter vacation.

His expected guest, who had not yet arrived, was Hugh Hardin, formerly leader of the Wolf patrol at Pioneer Camp. After some hesitation on Hugh’s part, owing to the fact that he and Alec had not always been on the best of terms in the past, Hugh had persuaded himself that to decline Alec’s invitation without sufficient reason would be both ungracious and unfriendly, and so he had accepted it in the same spirit with which it was given. As a matter of fact, Hugh had done so gladly, for he had a genuine liking and respect for his rival, Alec Sands, and he had usually been the first to regret and to make amends for their previous unpleasantness. On his journey down South, Hugh was even now eagerly looking forward to the visit, while at the same time his three friends, bowling along the highway in the big touring car, were discussing his arrival.

“If we take the car out again to-morrow to drive over to Claynor to meet Hugh, we’ll take some grub with us,—you can bet on that!” said Alec. “I thought there was some kind of an inn at Claynor, but we found only that clam-and-oyster parlor!”

“Gee, what a joint!” exclaimed Billy in an aggrieved tone. “Bucking broncos wouldn’t have dragged me into it!”

“Me, neither,” Chester added with ungrammatical emphasis.

“I had a letter from camp to-day—from Buck Winter,” he continued. “We left so early I didn’t have time to show it to you fellows before we started. Buck says Tom Sherwood has been elected temporary leader of our patrol, Alec. Hope he’ll be as good a one as you were, old scout.”

“Thanks!” responded Alec, laughing. “How much do you want for handing me that one, Chet? Can you change five cents?”

“At this moment,” replied Chester, “I couldn’t change a—Hello! look at that!”

As he uttered the words, he leaned forward, pointing over Billy’s shoulder. Alec, after one quick glance, threw out the clutch and jammed on the emergency brake with such suddenness that Chester, caught unprepared, tumbled back upon the seat. Before he had recovered from this jolt, he saw Alec and Billy jump out of the auto and run swiftly through the tall grass toward a railway track close to the road. Leaping from the car he followed them at full speed.

The track at this point made a long curve preparatory to crossing a narrow trestle over an inlet of the ocean, scarcely a hundred yards distant from the spot where they had left the car. Not quite halfway across the trestle, a girl, carrying a basket, was advancing, hurrying over the ties, and behind her trotted a big shaggy dog. The three lads had sprinted forward over a sandy embankment toward the track because they heard, in the distance behind the girl, the sudden shrill whistle of a locomotive and the rumble of an approaching train.

The girl also heard it, glanced back over her shoulder, and with a shriek of terror, flung the basket aside and fled onward as fast as she could run.

As the young Scouts dashed to the rescue, the ominous rumbling grew louder and louder; the rails began to hum; then, with another warning blast of the whistle, the freight train appeared around the bend and thundered toward the long bridge.

Billy was the first to reach the end of the trestle toward which the girl was coming rapidly. Running forward, leaping from one tie to another, he realized how precarious was the footing, how easily one misstep might hurl anyone into the depths below. Between the ties underfoot he caught glimpses of the flashing green water swirling around the upright piles as the tide flowed in, and, looking up, he could see the strained, desperate expression on the girl’s white face.

“Don’t lose your nerve!” he called to her. “You’ll get across all right.” He was not so confident as he appeared to be, but he knew instinctively that she needed encouragement. “Come on, come on; but take care!” he shouted. “We’re going to flag that train.”

Alec was close at his heels. Stripping off his coat and waving it frantically, he overtook Billy just as young Worth, bounding forward, almost collided with the girl and caught her outstretched hands in his own. Some little distance behind them, Chester stood at the end of the trestle, gazing with horror-stricken eyes at his friends and wondering what was the best thing he could do at this crisis.

“Oh!” he groaned despairingly. “They’ll never stop it! They’ll all be killed!”

Without waiting to see what progress Billy and the girl were making as they turned and ran, Alec bounded forward for several yards, and stood in the middle of the track until the train was almost upon him. Then, with quick decision, he leaped to one side and flung himself down on the ground.

The train passed him amid a whirl of dust and sand and small stones, and in another minute it was out upon the bridge. Car after car thundered past, with a deafening rumble of wheels. There was a sudden shriek and a jar of the brakes being applied, but before the engine had come to a standstill it had almost crossed the trestle.

Alec sprang to his feet before the train stopped. He looked wildly around and back to the place where he had last seen Billy and the girl. They had disappeared!

“What has happened?” he wondered, in a stupor of dread. “Did the train hit them, or did they jump off the trestle into the water? I must go back and find out! Oh, there’s Chester at the other end of the bridge. He’s waving his arms and shouting.”

Alec wheeled and ran back swiftly down the track and out on the trestle. The train blocked his way, but he climbed up a small iron ladder at the rear of the last car, ran along the roofs of the cars, and dropped to the ground just behind the tender, on the left side of the track. There, stretched out flat on one of the ties, he peered over, and his eyes met those of Billy Worth, full of the strain of waiting, upturned to his face.

With one arm around the girl, whose arms clung about his neck, and the other flung over one of the trestle rods under the track, Billy hung there straight downward over the water fully twenty feet below. Alec saw that Billy’s grip was weakening and that there was no time to lose.

Swiftly he twined his legs around the tie and lowered his body as far as he could. Then he stretched out his arms; but it was not enough; he could not reach the girl.

CHAPTER II.
THE RESCUE.

“Can you lift her up a little, Billy?” he asked in a low voice.

“I’m afraid to,” Billy whispered brokenly. “If I move, I’ll—I’ll lose my—grip.”

“Drop, then! Drop into the water, both of you!”

“Don’t dare—she can’t swim—current’s too swift. Guess I’ll have to, though, or else——” He felt the girl’s arms loosen. “Hang on to me!” he said sternly.

“No, no!” cried the girl. “Let me go! I’ll try—try to swim. And you can drop after me and—and—pull me out! Let me go!”

“Wait!” shouted Alec. “Can you hold on a minute longer, Billy? There’s someone coming!”

Then came the sound of someone running over the ties, and Alec gave a little gasp of relief.

“Is that you, Chet?” he asked, without looking up or turning his head.

“Engineer,” answered a gruff but tremulous voice. “Here, let me help you.”

“Take hold of my feet, then,” Alec replied. “Lower me down another six inches so that I can reach them. Quick, now!”

The man obeyed promptly. While he was speaking, Alec had slackened his hold with his legs, and the engineer lost not a minute in catching his ankles in a firm grip. The next moment Alec held the girl in his arms, and he managed, by a great effort, to pass her to Chester, who had just run up to help.

“Now, catch hold again,” he said to the engineer as he leaned over the edge once more. “Get a good grip this time; Billy’s no lightweight.”

“Hi! what are you going to do?” yelled Chester, dropping down beside him. “Alec, let me take a turn! I can pull Billy up if——”

“Never mind me; I can climb up alone,” called Billy in a faint voice from under the track. And he swung sidewise until he could brace his feet against a cross-pile.

Slowly, with aching muscles, he drew his body upward; inch by inch he climbed, grasping the projecting ends of the ties. The strain on his tired arms was tremendous, his shoulders felt numb, his hands clutched wildly—slipped—and with a gasp, he lost his hold, and fell down, down, into the flowing tide.

A tremendous splash sent a shower of spray up into the faces of his friends. Blinking, they saw him sink, saw the clear green water close over his head, and after waiting breathlessly for several minutes, saw him bob up to the surface and strike out for the nearest point of land. They knew he could swim like a seal, but they feared that, weakened by the strain he had just undergone, he might fail to make any headway against the current. As it was, they saw that he would be swept beyond the point toward which he was struggling into a broader space of open water that looked very dark and deep.

Chester was just about to fling off his coat and shoes on an impulse to dive to the assistance of his friend, when he was checked by an outcry from the girl. Plucky and alert, she had quickly recovered her presence of mind, and now she ran along past the engine to the end of the bridge, calling:

“Carlo! Here, Carlo! Come here, boy!”

A deep-throated bark greeted her, and her companion and protector, the big dog, dashed to meet her, wagging his tail and showing every sign of canine joy at seeing her again. But without pausing to respond to his enthusiasm, she sped along the shore of the inlet until she came opposite where Billy was now floating with the tide, wisely resting before he continued his exertions.

Pointing toward him, the girl urged Carlo into the water. “Get him, Carlo, good boy! Go on! Go on! Get him!”

And the faithful animal seemed to understand at once what was required; at any rate, he plunged boldly into the water and paddled out straight as an arrow toward Billy.

Giving a cheer, Alec and Chester, followed by the trainman, ran over to the spot where the girl was standing. Meanwhile, Carlo had come abreast of the swimmer, who, seeing him, had turned over and was resuming his strokes. Billy was too tired to disdain the noble dog’s assistance, so he put out one hand and grasped Carlo’s collar. Using his other arm and his legs, he helped the big dog to tow him back to the embankment.

It was slow work, and the tidal current was merciless, but at last they reached shallower water where Billy could touch bottom. Releasing the dog, he waded to the shore and threw himself on the coarse grass.

“Billy, old scout, you’re a hero!” exclaimed Alec, bending over his breathless comrade.

“You bet he is, boys!” agreed the engineer. “Anything pluckier or cooler than the way he dropped over the side of the trestle, with the girl hanging onto him for dear life,—when they thought they wouldn’t be able to get ahead of the train,—I never saw in all my born days! And I’ve seen a good many nervy stunts, too,—including your hand-me-up rescue of the girl,” he added turning to Alec, whose face, pale with anxiety, flushed crimson at these words of praise.

“Are you all right, Billy Wolf?” queried Chester, alarmed at Billy’s silence.

“Yes, I’ll be—all right—in a few—minutes,” panted Billy, raising his head. As he did so, his gaze met that of the girl, and he saw that her dark blue eyes were filled with tears. “Oh, there you are!” he observed, smiling. “Not hurt, are you?”

“Not at all, thanks to you!” she answered, a little sob in her voice. “I—I tried to thank your friend, a few minutes ago, but I haven’t thanked you for saving——”

“Oh, that’s all right!” interposed Billy. “We’re only too glad that we happened to come along in time. Aren’t we, Alec?”

“Of course we are!” assented the other rescuer warmly. He patted Carlo’s fine head. “He’s a great old dog, isn’t he? Whew! Stop shaking water all over us, Carlo! Can’t you see Billy is wet enough already?”

“Down, Carlo!” commanded the young girl.

Carlo bounded away, barking joyously.

Billy stood up, dripping wet and shivering slightly, in spite of the warm afternoon sunlight. His hair was matted with sticky salt water, his clothes were soiled with mud and sand, but he laughed as he shook himself. Chester and Alec began to pat and thump him vigorously to quicken circulation.

“Take a few sprints up and down the bank,” advised Chester. “You’re chilled, Billy; your teeth are chattering.”

“Nonsense!” laughed Billy. “I’m all right.”

As if to prove this assertion, he began a wrestling match with Carlo, who had come frisking up to him. But this sport was interrupted by the departure of the engineer.

“Well, I must be getting up steam again,” said the man. “Good-by, all!”

After shaking hands all around, he walked rapidly back to his engine, and soon the big freight was on its way again, the various trainmen waving their hands in farewell.

“I must be on my way, too,” the girl said, breaking an awkward little pause which followed the last echo of the vanishing train. “I was going over to Santario, to see my father. He is the keeper of the Life Saving Station at Red Key,” she explained. “His name is Anderson,—Peter Anderson. Mine is Ruth.”

“We’re Boy Scouts,” replied Alec, feeling that some introduction was due. “This chap is William Worth,—we call him Billy, for short,—this is Chester Brownell, and I’m Alec Sands. We are on our way to Santario, too; we left our machine over yonder. If you like, we’ll be glad to give you a ride. Will you come? It’s getting late, the sun’s going down, and you’ll never walk all the way to Santario before dusk. Better come with us.”

His suggestion was offered in frank kindness and Ruth Anderson was quick to appreciate it.

“It’s very good of you to invite me,” she said. “Thank you very much! I’d love a ride. You see, I’ve never been in an automobile. I’ve been in a lifeboat, though; but that’s not exciting,—unless there’s a storm!”

“That’s something we’ve never done—gone out in a lifeboat,” Chester remarked. “I visited a station on the coast of Maine two summers ago, but I didn’t see the crew at work.”

“I’ve never even seen a Life Saving Station,” said Billy.

“I have it—a great idea!” exclaimed Alec. “Some day, soon after Hugh gets here, we’ll motor down to Red Key and——”

Ruth interrupted him with a silvery laugh. “Oh, that will be fine!” she cried gaily. “Dad will be so glad to see you-all and to thank you for all you’ve done for me to-day. And I’m sure you’ll like the crew over at Red Key; they’re the nicest, kindest, bravest fellows in the world! And they’ll like you, too; I know they will!”

CHAPTER III.
COMING EVENTS.

Ruth’s spirits, considering the shock and excitement which she had experienced scarcely an hour ago, seemed to have risen wonderfully. And somehow her light-hearted gaiety was soon felt by the three courageous young Scouts who had shared her danger. As they all walked over to the waiting auto, chattering and laughing, even Billy forgot his sorry plight, though he was still “soaked and sticky,” as he said jocosely. Alec went to find his coat which he had cast aside, and, returning with it presently, he made Billy remove his wet one and put on the dry garment as well as the dust-robe which lay folded upon the seat in the tonneau.

“I’ll look like an Indian with a blanket,” said Billy, laughing.

“Never mind; please put it around you tight—like this,” urged Ruth, and forthwith she wrapped it shawl-wise around Billy, who immediately ceased to demur.

She was about to spring into the car, when she paused, one foot on the running board, and looked questioningly at Alec.

“Oh, I almost forgot poor Carlo!” she exclaimed, struck by a sudden misgiving. “What can we do with him? He can’t run all the way and keep up with us, can he?”

“Not much!” was Alec’s emphatic reply. “He’s going to ride with us. There’s plenty of room in the car.”

“But he’s dripping wet!”

“No matter. In he goes! Nothing’s too good for old Carlo! Now you and Billy jump in and take the rear seat, and make him sit on the floor.”

They obeyed without more ado, though some persuasion was required to make Carlo get into the car and lie down at their feet. He showed a decided preference for jumping up on the seat between Ruth and Billy, and once there, for shaking himself vigorously. Billy good-humoredly protested that he was wet enough, and at last Carlo took the hint to subside.

Chester cranked the machine, sprang in beside Alec, and they were off, bowling over the long smooth road at a rate that defied the rural speed limits.

Alec was an excellent chauffeur, and he handled his big car with skill and assurance. There was very little traffic on the road at this time of day, so he had to look out only for an occasional mule-drawn market wagon driven by a negro in ragged blue “jeans,” or now and then a swarthy, smiling pedestrian who waved his hat and called out some jolly greeting, as they flashed by. Ruth was delighted with the ride. When they had gone two or three miles beyond a small settlement near the coast, she asked Alec to drive slower so that she might point out to him some fine fishing grounds between the low-lying keys.

“Dad said there is always good fishing out yonder,” she told him, “and he ought to know, because he’s very familiar with the shore all the way from Red Key to Santario. You see, he used to be one of the regular beach patrol before he was made captain of the Life Saving Station.”

“Is that so?” responded Billy, with interest. “I reckon he could tell us some great yarns about his experiences.”

“Yes, indeed. I’ll ask him to,” promised Ruth, “when you-all come over to Red Key and see the station some day.”

“We’ll do that as soon as Hugh comes,” Alec said, pleased with the suggestion.

“D’you think we could manage to put in a day or two fishing?” ventured Chester, whose enthusiasm for all kinds of water sports was unbounded.

“Yes, I guess so,” answered Alec.

“Are you boys all Scouts?” Ruth asked after a few minutes, during which she had listened attentively to reminiscences of their fishing and canoeing trips at Pioneer Camp. And on being assured that they were, she continued: “My brother is, too; he belongs to Florida Troop No.—I forget the troop number, but anyway it’s the Bear patrol. They had a camp near Okechobee last summer.”

“Where are they now?”

“They’re going to meet at Claynor for a week or two, and then go on an exploration of the Everglades,” said Ruth. “Perhaps my brother and you-all will get acquainted one of these days; and that would be fine!”

“What’s your brother’s name?” asked Chester.

“Marcus,” answered the girl; “but everybody calls him Mark.”

“We’d be glad to know him, of course,” said Alec, politely; and Billy promptly added, “Sure thing, we would.”

Talking thus, they arrived at a place called Five Corners from the fact that it was the meeting point of five roads, or rather, the point where two other roads cut into the main highway. Ruth then suggested that they should set her down, for by taking one of the roads, she could reach Red Key within an hour, while they could continue their journey to Santario. But Alec would not consent to this suggestion, and he turned the car down the road leading to the little village that clustered around the life saving station.

Arrived there, Ruth introduced the boys to her father, who thanked them warmly for their bravery and invited them to visit the station early in the following week.

“The weather is still sort o’ uncertain at this time o’ year, and we may have storms almost any day,” said Peter Anderson. “Usually they don’t amount to much along this coast, but you never can tell. Anyway, come over when you can.”

“We will, thanks,” Alec replied; and after a cordial farewell, the boys drove away. An hour later they were at Palmdune, where their story had a sympathetic hearing and they were treated to a bountiful supper before they went to bed. Billy retired somewhat earlier than the others, yielding to Mrs. Sands’ advice. He really was more tired than the rest, and, furthermore, he wanted to write a letter home.

When Alec and Chester went up to the former’s room, which they occupied together,—Billy was to share the adjoining room with Hugh, later,—they were not at all sleepy, and they continued their animated discussion of plans for the next week. Even after he put out the light and jumped into bed, Alec continued talking, until a soft snore from the other side of the room showed him that Chester had already fallen asleep. He soon followed the example, but his mind was not idle, for he dreamed that he had gone to sea in a big schooner, and was sailing over the blue ocean.

In his dream, the captain of the schooner was talking to him and telling him what a fine sailor he had become. Presently he invited Alec to breakfast with him and handed the young mariner a plate of hot buttered toast and the fin of a shark fried in oil. When Alec had eaten this, the captain told him to go up on deck and see what the weather was, for the sea had begun to be rough and the ship to pitch and roll in the trough of the waves. Alec did so, and to his astonishment he found the foamy seas tossing and roaring and the officers shouting orders to the men to take in sail.

Presently there came a terrific crash, the masts went by the board, the waves dashed over the ship, and Alec found himself tumbling among huge breakers, until, almost in an instant, he was thrown upon a beach where he lay helpless, unable to crawl out of the way of the angry waters. Every moment they threatened to carry him seaward again. In vain he tried to work his way up the sand dunes with his arms and legs. Presently down he came—to find himself sprawling on the floor!

“What’s the matter?” exclaimed Chester, awakened by the noise. He sat up in his bed, looking around in sleepy bewilderment. “What made all that row?”

“I fell out of bed!” answered Alec dolefully. “I dreamed I was shipwrecked.”

“I’m glad you’re not,” chuckled Chester. “Get into bed again,—and for pity’s sake dream of something else.”

Feeling decidedly foolish, Alec, without a word, meekly did as his friend advised.

CHAPTER IV.
PLANS AND PROJECTS.

The next morning was dull and foggy with a suspicion of a wet drizzle in the air. Nevertheless, the boys were up early, filled with eager anticipation of the good times in store. Had not Mr. Sands promised to announce that very day the plans he had made for their recreation?

Up at Pioneer Camp in the northern woods they were accustomed to enjoy a plunge in the lake before breakfast. So now, instead of dressing, they donned bathing suits, crept noiselessly downstairs and out on the lawn, and raced to the beach, which was only a short distance from the border of Mr. Sands’ estate. Arriving there, they found it deserted, although footprints in the sand showed them that a surfman from the Life Saving Station, two miles further up the shore, had patroled the beach during the night.

Overhead, huge, white, jagged clouds moved slowly across the sky. Their close ranks were broken now and then by shafts of sunlight that pierced through the fog and struck steely-blue gleams from the undulating waves. A few white-caps dotted the ocean, and the heavy swells rolled ponderously toward the shore, breaking into cavernous surf that sounded like far-distant thunder. To Billy Worth, inland born and bred, the ocean seemed a source of endless wonder; to Alec and Chester, it had become a friendly element, and they proved their familiarity with it by wading boldly in and diving straight through the green breakers.

“Come on, Billy!” yelled Chester, bobbing up on the crest of a wave. “The water’s fi——”

No sooner were the words sputtered forth than Chester was lifted bodily, rolled over and over, and flung with a thump upon the beach, almost at Billy’s feet. A wave had broken unexpectedly and had tossed him around as though he were a bit of driftwood. He staggered up, his eyes and mouth full of briny sand, and rubbed one shoulder gingerly.

“Where am I?” he inquired. “I must have turned a dozen complete somersaults! Gee! My shoulder’s out of joint—at least, it feels so! Why don’t you go in, Billy?”

“I’m going,” replied Billy, doubling up with laughter. “Look at Alec out there! He’s got tangled up with a bunch of seaweed, his arms and legs are covered with the slimy stuff! Seems to me, it’s more fun watching you fellows; but here goes, anyway!”

He bounded forward and dived through the green arch of a comber with a skill and daring that rivaled the best feats of his companions. Chester followed him as soon as he could get the sand out of his eyes. For only a short while the three swimmers disported themselves in the waves, for they were sensible enough to go ashore before the exhilaration of the exercise had even begun to wear off.

As they returned to the house, they noticed one of the Revenue Marine Bureau cutters cruising along the shore not far out; and Alec explained that the cutters made regular trips up and down the coast during winter and early spring, to warn or assist imperiled vessels.

“I didn’t know they came as far south as this,” said Chester.

“Oh, yes; but not so often as they do along our northern coasts,” Alec rejoined.

After breakfast, Mr. Sands called the three boys out on the broad veranda, and they all ensconced themselves in comfortable wicker chairs.

“Well, what have you got to say for yourself, Dad?” inquired Alec. “What’s the good word?”

His father looked at him and laughed.

“I suppose you mean you’re waiting to know what I intend to do with three lively lads who are making themselves too numerous to mention? Am I right?”

“Yes, since you put it that way. If you want to get rid of us, how are you going to do it?”

“Oh, there are plenty of ways. For instance, I might hustle you back to school before this quite unnecessary vacation is over,” said Mr. Sands, who was fond of teazing and joking.

“Not much! Not if we know it!” protested Alec, glancing at Billy and Chester, whose faces were twisted into broad grins. “Besides, Hugh is coming to-day, and it wouldn’t be decent of you, Dad, to punish us all like that. What have we done, anyway? We’ve been good and——”

Here Chester gave way to laughter.

“You see!” cried Alec’s father. “That was too much for Chester! He knows some secret which I’ll have to worm out of him before I’ll commit myself to any program.”

“No, sir, not guilty!” declared Chester.

“On the level?”

“On the level,” solemnly echoed Chester.

“All right, then. What would you all say to a trip down the coast?”

“A hunting and fishing trip?” Alec asked eagerly.

“Yes, if you want to try any fishing. You can’t hunt; it’s not the season, you know.”

“We wouldn’t want to, even if we could,” his son replied on second thoughts. “But the fishing would be great sport! That’s a bully idea of yours, Dad! I’m keen for the trip!”

“How about you two?” Mr. Sands turned to the others. “Does the plan strike your fancy?”

“It surely does!” was Billy’s prompt reply.

“Simply great!” added Chester.

“Good. Do you think Hugh will like it?”

“I’m sure he will,” Billy said. “Hugh’s the boy for any sort of outing and adventure, sir, and this one will be just the thing.”

“The ayes have it, then,” said Mr. Sands. “Well, my plan is this: I’ve found out that I can charter the small sloop Arrow, Lemuel Vinton, owner and master,—you remember him, Alec?—and engage his services as captain. For crew, he’ll have you four boys and a certain young man from my New York office whom I’m sending over to Havana on business. His name is Roy Norton; he’s a good sailor, and one of the most sensible and likable young men I’ve ever had the good fortune to know. I’ll expect you boys to stand by him as your leader on this trip, just as you would if he were George Rawson or your scout master, Denmead.”

“Is he a scout?” asked Alec.

“I believe so; anyway, he knows a lot about scoutcraft, and he’s deeply interested in it. He was delighted when I suggested his going on this trip.”

“Aren’t you going too, Dad?”

“Sorry, I can’t. I’m obliged to go out to Chicago next week. Business. But Norton’ll manage you chaps better than I could; he knows the ropes. He’ll go as far as Key West with you. You’ll leave him there and come back in the sloop, under strict sailing orders from Captain Vinton. Mind you, I want each one of you to give me his word to render prompt and willing obedience to any instructions you may receive, either from Norton or from the captain.”

“We promise,” replied the three Scouts. To himself Alec added: “Hope this man Norton isn’t going to boss us around like four kids! George Rawson and Chief Denmead never do that. They never have to; a few words are enough! Wonder what Norton’ll be like?”

Mr. Sands rose from his chair.

“What train is Hugh coming on?” he asked, consulting his watch.

“Why, Dad! You know there’s only one a day now arriving at Claynor. It’s due at eleven-eighteen.”

“Well, you’d better be on the jump toward the garage, if you’re going to drive the car over to meet that train. You’ve only a little more than an hour.”

“We’ll get there in time, all right,” said Alec. “I wouldn’t miss meeting Hugh—not for a lot! Come on, fellows.”

About an hour later the touring car drew up at the platform of the station at Claynor, and its three occupants alighted to seek shelter from the clouds of dust that a stiff breeze was blowing from the roads. With the exception of the station agent and a few negro porters asleep on a long bench, not a soul was in sight near the little terminal. Across a small plaza, where a few dusty palm trees swayed dejectedly in the wind, could be seen a row of quaint shops, an old Spanish church, and a moving-picture theater; beyond this was a vista of the main street of the town, with people coming and going, to and fro, in a leisurely manner.

Presently, long after schedule time, the train rolled up and came to a standstill. Almost the first passenger to alight was a tall, slender, yet well-developed young fellow, who rushed forward at sight of his three comrades and seized their hands.

“Hugh, old scout, we thought you’d never get here!” exclaimed Alec.

“Your beastly old train’s late,” added Billy.

“I know it is—worse luck! Don’t blame me! It wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t get here sooner or I would, you may be sure.”

“Well, we’re mighty glad to see you,” said Chester.

“Come on, Hugh! We’ve got a lot of news to tell you on the way home!” exclaimed Alec.

“I’m all ears,” replied Hugh, laughing.

CHAPTER V.
A VISIT OF INSPECTION.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are they going over to the mainland?”

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

“How will they cross?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After supper they returned to the boathouse.

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

CHAPTER VI.
THE BEACH PATROLS.

“Wind’s blowing some,” observed Baley, raising his voice so that he could be heard above the angry snarl of the surf.

“Hope nothing hits the bar to-night,” Downs answered.

Then the surfmen trudged off in opposite directions, following the line of the wave-beaten strand, each carrying on his back a recording clock in a leather case, several candle-like Coston lights, and a wooden handle.

With oilskins buttoned tightly and hip-boots drawn up, Jim Downs and his youthful comrades fought the stiff breeze on their watch. Darkness was slow in coming, so they were not yet in imminent peril from shifting sands, driftwood, or tidal waves. Their mission was a serious one, requiring alertness and keen observation. Soon a sense of solemn responsibility subdued even the high spirits of the boys, finally checking the flow of their eager conversation altogether.

“Isn’t that a ship ’way out there?” Hugh asked at length, gazing at something which seemed to be the dark bulk of a vessel in a sea of foam.

“Guess it’s only a cloud,” answered Downs, and Billy agreed with this opinion.

Hugh said nothing in contradiction, but he was by no means convinced that the slowly moving form was not that of a schooner. Indeed, he believed he saw the faint lines of spars and rigging.

After a few minutes Downs, to make sure, looked again at the distant object. Then, taking a Coston signal from his pocket and fitting it to the handle, he struck the end on the sole of his boot. Like a match it caught fire and flared out through the mist, a dull red light. He stood still, holding the torch above his head, waiting for some answering signal from the vessel,—if it were one, after all.

No signal was shown in response. Either the ship was still too far out to catch sight of the warning beacon, or none of her crew was on deck at the moment. The glowing torch sputtered and went out, and with a shrug of his broad shoulders, Downs trudged on down the beach.

“Come on, kids, we’ll set off another light farther on,” he said. “If that’s really a ship, give her a few minutes to watch for signals.”

In awed suspense, Hugh and Billy followed him to the end of Red Key. Chained to a post driven in the sand, they found a stout dory with two pairs of oars.

“Pile in,” said Downs, “and sit tight. Hardin, you take one pair of oars, I’ll take t’other, and we’ll be over on the next key in a jiffy.”

The crossing was soon made. Billy tied the boat to another post, while Downs again lighted a signal. They were still near enough the station to notify the lookout there of a possible ship in distress, and in a few minutes they caught the gleam of the big lamp in the tower, shining out through the vapor blown from the crests of the waves.

Still no sign from the object of their concern.

“Look!” cried Hugh. “It can’t be a cloud; it hasn’t changed its shape, and——”

“And it seems to be comin’ nearer,” added Downs, interrupting him quickly. “You’re right, son; it’s a sailing vessel. She’s being blown landward, but with good luck, she’ll slip past the bar out there, and maybe she’ll make for the lee o’ Turtle Island. Watch and see. Come on,—but we won’t hike over the pontoon to-night. I’ll go alone.”

Through long vigils in all kinds of weather, the patrol learns every foot of his beat thoroughly, and he is able to tell with reasonable accuracy how and where a storm-tossed vessel will be driven, or where a stranded one lies. Downs was no exception to this rule, yet there were times when, experienced surfman as he was, he felt uncertain whether a ship was likely to be forced over on the mainland beach, or whether she would run aground on the outer bar at the end of the keys. The latter situation was the more to be dreaded, for the bar was far beyond the reach of a line shot from shore.

Deciding to continue his beat, Downs left the two scouts seated together on a mound of sand and driftwood, and made his way alone across the swaying, tossing pontoon.

“I’ll be back in about twenty minutes,” he said, and he was as good as his word.

At the end of his beat he stopped to take a watchkey attached to a post, and, inserting it in the clock he carried, to record the time of his visit at that spot. By this means is kept an actual record of the movements of the patrol at all times.

Returning to the place where he had left the boys, he found them sitting in awed silence.

“No signs from the ship yet?” he shouted.

So quietly had he approached, and so thunderous was the booming of the surf, Billy and Hugh were startled at the sound of Downs’s voice. Even had they not been staring out to sea, waiting in suspense for the ship’s signal, they would not have seen him come up, so thick was the mist.

Billy gasped and jumped up. “What—what are we going to do now?” he asked.

“Want to go back to the station?”

“No, no!” exclaimed Hugh, springing to his feet. “We’re out here with you. We’ll stick by you.”

“But I’m out here for four hours’ duty. You don’t want to stick it out that long, son?”

“Yes, we do—if you don’t mind,” replied Billy.

“Is there anything you’d rather have us do?” asked Hugh, beginning to understand a kindly hint in Jim Downs’s words. “We’d like to be of real service, if we can.”

“Sure you can! Seeing as the weather’s so thick, suppose you lads race back to the station and report what we’ve seen. Then, if the cap’n sends Larry out to join me, you can come back with him. See?”

“All right,” they responded.

Again they climbed into the dory and rowed back to Red Key. Jim waited to light another torch, and the boys sped up to the boathouse, where they informed the keeper, who already knew of the ship, of what they had seen.

* * * * * * * *

Meanwhile Baley, with Alec and Chester, had walked the opposite beat. From the first, however, they felt sure that the distant object against the murky horizon was a vessel. With lighted Coston signal in hand, Baley pursued his difficult way along the shore, buffeted by the wind and drenched with flying spray. He explained to the boys how the outer line of sandbars, which in summer breaks the blue ocean into sunny ripples and flashing white caps, has power to churn the spring tides into fury and to grip with a mighty hold the keel of any vessel that is unlucky enough to be driven on it.

As they trudged doggedly on, the wind whipped through the beach grasses on the dunes and spitefully swirled handfuls of cutting sand into their faces. Fortunately, the night was not cold, else they might have fared worse. As it was, the two scouts rather enjoyed the novel experience. They felt that they were, for the time being, a part of Uncle Sam’s coast guard,—members of a crew of brave men whose vigilance and strength and presence of mind save hundreds of lives and valuable property every year.

They told Baley how they had learned to become efficient signalers, and he heartily approved of that branch of their training. Knowing a lot about the Boy Scout organization,—for his son was then a tenderfoot in a Florida troop,—he was not surprised at the amount of general “prepared-ness” which Alec and Chester modestly displayed.

“You never can tell, my lads, just when and where and how you’ll need to use what you’ve learned,” he said pleasantly. “For instance: Suppose we had to signal that ship out there to-morrow morning, or even to-night, if she gets into trouble? Could you do it?”

“Reckon we could, Mr. Baley,” replied Chester quietly.

“If we have a chance, you’ll see,” was Alec’s even more confident answer. The vague possibility implied in Baley’s question gave him an adventurous thrill.

When these three reached the end of their beat and turned back toward the starting point, they were surprised to meet Culver. He had been sent out to keep watch with Baley, for Keeper Anderson thought it best to have four men on patrol that night. Larry Flynn had been sent to reinforce Downs.

When the first watch was over, four other surfmen took the places of those on duty; but the boys were quite ready to seek the “shakedowns” prepared for them. The long night hours passed, and daylight crept slowly and feebly across a cloudy sky and over a turbulent sea.

CHAPTER VII.
THE STRANDED SCHOONER.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keeper Anderson nodded.

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

All hurried out of the cabin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER VIII.
THE RESCUE.

To load the surfboat with the crew of the luckless vessel, when there was none too much room for the oarsmen, and then to encounter the heavy surf, would have shown great lack of judgment on the part of the rescuers. It was a method to be pursued only in case of dire need. To reach the ship after it had become stranded on the key shore or near it was a much safer and surer method of saving life for all concerned.

Rowing hard against the now outflowing tide, yet helped by the wind, the lifesavers approached the beach. With a rush their boat rolled in on a giant wave and, no sooner had the keel grated on the sand, than the crew, including the two scouts, were out knee-deep in the undertow dragging the boat up high and dry. No one could deny that the boys showed remarkable quickness in action and an alert understanding of what had to be done.

“Get the beach wagon!” commanded Anderson.

Billy and Chester, who had hurried to the spot where the surfboat landed, greeted their scout comrades with a whoop of joy, envy and relief. No time was lost. A minute later the entire crew, some pulling, some steering, dragged out the beach wagon: a light framework supported by two broad-tired wheels, and carrying a sand-anchor, which was like a huge cross, in addition to other apparatus.

Over hummocks of sand, across pools of water, in the face of wind and waves, they ran, dragging the beach wagon along the key to the place where the driven schooner had run aground. It lay some distance out, and was now lurching groggily from side to side. Then, bringing the wagon to the nearest point opposite the stranded hulk, the crew unloaded their appliances.

“Hey there, lads!” shouted Anderson, “dig a hole in the sand!”

Flynn tossed some shovels to the boys, and at once they set to work with a will.

While this was being done, two men placed a small bronze cannon in position and another got out boxes containing small rope criss-crossed on wooden pins set upright in the bottom. These pins merely held the rope wound in coils until it was ready to be used, when board and pegs were removed.

Captain Anderson carried the free end of this line, which was attached to a ring in the end of a cylindrical projectile, over one shoulder; over the other was slung a box of ammunition. In a few minutes, aided by Baley and Culver, he sighted the gun, aiming for the outstretched yardarms of the schooner. Long practice under various difficulties and in all sorts of weather had taught him just how to aim. As he pulled the lanyard, the gun spat fire into the mist, and the long projectile sailed off on its mission, its attached line whirring out of the box, coil after coil. Baley and Culver peered out over the breakers to see if the keeper’s aim had been true.