He seized the lantern and in a moment they were out of the tent, staggering along in the wake of the flickering light, the wind beating and buffeting them at every step. The world was a wild confusion of darkness and turmoil. Jack led the way around the side of the hill and presently the full force of the gale found them and they reeled under the shock of it. After that it was only by bending forward and digging their feet into the ground that they could get ahead. The air was wet with salt spume from the waves below. They fought onward a step at a time, their eyes half-closed, gasping for breath. And suddenly ahead of them in the blackness a trail of light flared skyward and a rocket burst into flying sparks.

Jack pulled the others down beside him on the ground. “She’s on The Tombstones,” he shouted. He hid the lantern under his jacket and peered for a minute through the darkness. “Two-masted schooner,” he announced. “Fisherman, I guess. I can just see her.” But the others, strain their eyes as they might, could make out nothing.

“What can we do?” cried Bee.

Jack arose. “Come on,” he shouted. They staggered ahead again, Jack leading the way upward until they were at the edge of the grove. There, while Hal and Bee crouched beside him, Jack braced himself against a tree and waved the lantern back and forth in long sweeps of his arm. Again the cannon boomed and again a rocket trailed into the night. Bee thought once he heard a hail from the schooner, but he could not be certain for the wind was full of strange sounds and voices. For several minutes Jack waved. Then, summoning the others, he led them back around the hill. They went almost at a run, stumbling over rocks, tripping over bushes, the wind behind them seemingly bent on blowing them off the island. Hal wondered how they could ever find the tent again, but Jack led them to it unerringly and they staggered in, breathless and white-faced. Jack placed the lantern down and sank to his bed. No one spoke for a moment. Then—

“Isn’t there anything we can do, Jack?” faltered Hal huskily. “Could we get to them in the launch?”

Jack shook his head. “Let me think a minute,” he said. He placed his elbows on his knees and sank his chin in his hands, gazing at the ground. Bee, nervously buttoning and unbuttoning his jacket, watched impatiently. Finally Jack beckoned and they gathered close to him.

“I guess,” he said, “the only thing we can do is get word to the life savers. Maybe they’ve seen the rockets already and are on the way, but there’s no way of being sure about that. There’s no patrol in summer and I guess the only place they’d see the signals from is the Fort.”

“Where’s the nearest station?” asked Hal.

“Greenhaven; Harbor Beach,” said Jack.

“But that’s miles away! They’d never get here!”

“They could do it in an hour, I think. They’d come straight down the harbor and through the canal into Eight-Fathom Cove. They have a motor boat and it can go pretty fast. They’ll have an awful time off Toller’s Sands, though, and maybe they won’t dare to try it. But I guess it’s up to us to get word to them. There’s nothing else we can do, is there?”

Hal and Bee shook their heads. Through the storm came the boom of the cannon again. Bee moved impatiently.

“Whatever we do, let’s get at it!” he exclaimed. “How long will that boat last out there?”

Jack shook his head. “There’s no knowing.”

“But how can we get to Greenhaven?” demanded Hal wildly. “You don’t mean the—the launch?”

“Up the river to the railroad,” answered Jack. “The river’s full and I guess we can make it without running aground. There’s a switch tower back of Cove Village and we can telephone from there. Will you fellows try it?”

“Of course,” answered Hal. “You take the lantern and Bee and I will bring the oars. Is there anything else we’ll need?”

“No. All ready? Come on, then!”

Down the hill they plunged. Near the last trenches they had dug they passed out of the protection of the hill and the wind had a clean sweep at them. They had to cling together there. Then they were on the sands. Dimly they could see the swaying mast of the sloop a few rods away. Finally the dim, flaring light of the lantern fell on the wharf and the Corsair. Jack handed the light to Hal and scrambled down the bank. The river was high and running with waves. Clinging to a spile, Jack reached the painter and pulled the bow of the launch in. One by one they scrambled aboard. Hal started the engine; it took several minutes to do it; then Jack cast off and seized the wheel. The lantern was hidden in the stern locker and Corsair chugged slowly forward into the darkness. Jack strained his eyes, but as yet he could see nothing. Luckily he knew the direction the stream took and for the first few minutes the launch was steered by guess work. Then the banks began to be distinguishable from the water as his eyes became accustomed to the darkness and he called for more speed. Hal, crouching in the back of the launch, opened the throttle further and the Corsair began to dip and roll. Bee staggered forward and stood beside Jack.

“Can you see where we’re going?” he shouted.

“I can see enough,” Jack answered. “Lots of depth tonight. We’ll get there, I guess. Faster, Hal!”

The roar of the surf lessened behind them as the launch sped inland along the narrow stream. The banks protected them somewhat from the wind, but its voice was in their ears all the time and the Corsair shivered and rocked as the gusts found her. At such times Jack had all he could do to keep her off the bank. The minutes passed. One turn after another was passed in safety, the launch reeling off a good six miles an hour. Then there was a sudden shock, a moment of hesitancy and again the Corsair was plunging forward.

“Sand-bar,” shouted Jack in Bee’s ear. “Got over it!”

Seaward the rockets still flared in the darkness. It already seemed hours since they had started, although it is probable that they had been going but a scant fifteen minutes. Jack shouted to Bee and Bee scrambled back to inform Hal that they had passed the old bridge.

“He says it’s only about three-quarters of a mile further to the track,” cried Bee. “We’re near Bill Glass’s place now. How’s she running?”

“Fine.” Hal squirted some oil in the general direction of the engine. Then the oil-can flew out of his hand and he sat down forcibly on the grating, with Bee on top of him. The Corsair had brought up with a jolt!

“Stop her!” came Jack’s voice faintly. “Reverse! Quick!”

Hal, gathering himself up, grabbed at the lever. The propeller churned and the Corsair shivered. Jack hurried back.

“She’s hard aground,” he shouted. “Have you reversed her?”

“Yes.”

“Where are the oars?”

Seizing one, he hurried back to the bow. Bee took the other and joined him. The propeller lashed and the boys pushed, but the launch, her nose deep in a bank of clay, refused to budge. Gradually her stern, under the force of the wind, swung around until it struck against the opposite bank with a jar.

“Stop your engine, Hal!” cried Jack. “It’s no good. Get the lantern out, Bee. We’ll have to foot it.”

They scrambled up the bank from the bow, slipping on the mud and slime, and with the wind howling about them and trying to blow them into the water struggled on over the marsh, tripping on tufts of grass, fighting for every inch. Once Bee lost his footing and would have gone headlong into the river had not Hal seized him. Then there was an exclamation from Jack. The lantern light fell on a tiny wharf jutting into the stream. Turning, Jack led them away from the river. “It’s Bill Glass’s!” he cried. “We’ll stop here a minute.”

The cabin suddenly loomed before them and they staggered into its shelter. Jack raised his hand and hammered at the door. There was no response from within and he pushed against the crazy old portal. It swung readily on its leather hinges, scraping across the floor.

“Hello! Bill Glass!” cried Jack.

“Hi! Who be ye?” came a muffled voice from the cabin.

“Jack Herrick. There’s a schooner on The Tombstones. We’re trying to get word to the life savers.”

“Come in, mates.” They obeyed, the lantern light throwing fantastic shadows over the strange room. On the edge of the bunk sat Bill Glass, already struggling with his trousers. “Sit ye down an’ rest, mates,” he said. “So there be a schooner ashore, eh? Aye, there’ll be plenty o’ them in trouble this night. Could ye see her, mates?”

“Faintly,” answered Jack, fighting for breath. “We heard her gun and then saw the rockets. She’s hard on The Tombstones, I think. We thought if we could get to the switch tower down the track we could telephone from there.”

“Aye, so ye could, so ye could. What time might it be?” Bill peered at the nearest clock. “Nigh one bell, is it? Then there be time to get to the railroad afore the night freight comes by. Where be my jacket?”

The cat appeared from under the stove and eyed them blinkingly. Bill Glass buttoned his old pea-jacket about him, found his hat and reached down a lantern.

“No call for us all to go, I cal’ate,” he said as he lighted it. “Leave your lantern here for them, Jack Herrick, an’ you come along o’ me.”

“That’s so, fellows,” said Jack. “We’ll get there quicker if there’s fewer of us. You wait here.”

“Aye, an’ build ye a fire in the stove, mates, an’ get warm. There be coffee there, an’ tea, likely, if you’ll look a bit. Come on, mate!”