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Page 10
By the sale of the Bronx land Mrs. Dexter became possessed of enough
money to put her beyond the fear of immediate want; Larry decided to
continue on in the newspaper field, and when this story opens he was
regarded as one of the best workers on the staff of the _Leader_.
His assignment to get the story of the wreck was his first big one
since the incidents told of in the second volume.
At Larry and the coast-guard trudged down the beach the guns from
the doomed steamer were fired more frequently, and the rockets
lighted up the darkness with a weird glare.
"Not much farther now," remarked George, as he peered ahead through
the blackness, whitened here and there with masses of flying spray.
A little later they were at the life-saving station. The place was
in seeming confusion, yet every man was at his post. Most of them
were hauling out the long wagon frame, on which the life-boat
rested. They were bringing the craft down to the beach to try to
launch it.
"Lend a hand!" cried Captain Needam, as Larry and the coast-guard
came in. "We need every man we can get."
Larry grasped a rope. No one paid any attention to him, and they
seemed to think it was natural that he should be there. Perhaps they
took him for Bailey.
The boat was taken down to the edge of the surf. An effort was made
to launch it, but, struggle as the men did, they could not get it
beyond the line of breakers.
"It's no use!" exclaimed the captain. "We'll have to haul her to
Johnson's Cove. Maybe it isn't so rough there."
The wagon, with the boat on it, was pulled back, and then began a
journey about two miles farther down the coast, to a small inlet,
protected by a curving point of land. There the breakers were likely
to be less high, and the boat might be launched.
Larry pulled with the rest. He did not see how he was going to get
his story telegraphed to the paper, but he was consoled by the
reflection that there were no other reporters on hand, and that
there was no immediate likelihood of being "beaten." When morning
came he could decide what to do.
So, for the time being, he became a life saver, and pulled on the
long rope attached to the wagon until his arms ached. It was heavy
hauling through the sand, and his feet seemed like lead.
It was nearly midnight when the cove was reached, and after a
desperate struggle the life-boat was launched.
"Some of you go back and get ready to operate the breeches buoy as
soon as it's light enough!" called Captain Needam, as the boat was
pulled away over the heaving billows toward the wreck, which could
be seen in the occasional glare of a rocket or signal light.
"Might as well come back," said George Tucker to Larry. "Can't do
any more here."
Back through the wind and rain they walked, with half a score of
others. They reached the life-saving station, tired and spent from
their struggle through the storm.
"You can go back to Bailey," said George, as Larry sat down inside
the warm and cozy living-room of the station to rest. "He may need
you."
"I thought I could help here," replied Larry. "Besides, I'd like to
see you work the breeches buoy."
"You'll see all you want of that in the morning," replied the coast
patrol. "We can't do much until daylight. Are you afraid to go back
alone?"
"No," replied Larry.
Back he trudged to Bailey's cabin. It was about three o'clock when
he reached there, and he found the fisherman sitting beside the
table, drinking some hot tea.
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