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.