Charlie to the Rescue | Page 7

sides, and spurted high in air over her, falling back on her deck, and sweeping off everything that was moveable. It could be seen that only three or four men were on deck, and these kept well under the lee of the bulwarks near the stern where they were strongest.
"No passengers, I think," said one of the fishermen; "no women, anyhow."
"Not likely they'd be 'lowed on deck even if there was," growled Grinder, in his monotone.
"Now, then, out o' the way," cried the leader of the Coast-Guard men, as he laid a rocket in its place. "Line all clear, Fred?"
"All clear."
Next moment there was a burst of flame, a crash, and a vicious whizz as the powerful projectile leaped from its stand and sped out to sea, in grand defiance of the opposing gale, with its light line behind it.
A cheer marked its flight, but a groan told of its descent into the boiling sea, considerably to the left of the wreck.
"What a pity!" cried Shank Leather, who had come close to his friend when the rocket-cart arrived.
"No matter," said Brooke, whose compressed lips and flashing eyes told of deep but suppressed feelings. "There are more rockets."
He was right. While he was speaking, another rocket was placed and fired. It was well directed, but fell short. Another, and yet another, rose and fell, but failed to reach its mark, and the remainder of the rockets refused to go off from some unknown cause--either because they had been too long in stock or had become damp.
Meantime the brig was tossed farther and farther in, until she stuck quite fast. Then it became evident that she must soon break up, and her crew perish. Hasty plans and eager advice were proposed and given. Then the smart young fisherman suddenly sprang forward, and threw off his oil-coat and sou'-wester.
"Here! hold on!" he cried, catching up the end of the rocket line, and fastening it round his waist, while he kicked off his heavy boots.
"You can't do it, Bill," cried some.
"Too far to swim," cried others.
"The seas 'll knock the life out o' ye," said Grinder, "afore you're clear o' the sand."
Despite these warnings the brave young fellow dashed into the foam, and plunged straight into the first mighty breaker that towered over his head. But he was too much excited to act effectively. He failed to time his plunge well. The wave fell upon him with a roar and crushed him down. In a few seconds he was dragged ashore almost insensible.
Example, whether good or bad, is infectious. Another strapping young fellow, stirred to emulation, ran forward, and, seizing the rope, tied it round his own waist, while they helped poor Bill up the beach and seated him on a sand-bank.
The second youth was more powerful than the first--and cooler. He made a better attempt, but only got past the first wave, when his comrades, seeing that he was exhausted, drew him back. Then a third--a broad burly youth--came forward.
At this point the soul of Shank Leather took fire, for he was by no means destitute of generous impulses, and he tried to get hold of the rope.
"Out o' the way," cried the burly youth, giving Leather a rough push that almost sent him on his back; "we don't want no land-lubbers for this kind o' work."
Up to this point Charlie Brooke, although burning with eager desire to take some active part in the rescue, had restrained himself and held back, believing, with characteristic modesty, that the fishermen knew far better than he did how to face the sea and use their appliances; but when he saw his friend stagger backward, he sprang to the front, caught hold of the line, and, seizing the burly fisherman by the arm, exclaimed, "You'll let this land-lubber try it, anyhow," and sent him spinning away like a capsized nine-pin.
There was a short laugh, as well as a cheer at this; but next moment all were gazing at the sea in breathless anxiety, for Brooke had rushed deep into the surf. He paused one moment, as the great wave curled over him, then went through it head-first with such force that he shot waist-high out of the sea on the other side. His exceptional swimming-powers now served him well, for his otter-like rapidity of action enabled him to avoid the crushing billows either by diving through them at the right moment, or holding back until they fell, and left him only the mad swirling foam to contend with. This last was bad enough, but here his great muscular strength and his inexhaustible caloric, with his cork-like power of flotation, enabled him to hold his own without exhaustion until another opportunity of piercing an unbroken wave offered. Thus he gradually forced his way through and beyond the worst