Hauling in a breeches-buoy and a passenger.]

"Wind's blowing some," said one of the men, raising his voice above the
howl of the blast.

"Hope nothing hits the bar to-night," the other answered. Then both
trudged off in opposite directions.

With pea-coats buttoned tightly and sou'westers tied down securely, the
surfmen fought the gale on their watch-tour of duty. At the end of his
beat each man stopped to take a key attached to a post, and, inserting
it in the clock, record the time of his visit at that spot, for by this
means is an actual record kept of the movements of the patrol at all
times.

With head bent low in deference to the force of the blast, and eyes
narrowed to slits, the surfman searched the seething sea for the shadowy
outlines of a vessel in trouble.

Perchance as he looked his eye caught the dark bulk of a ship in a sea
of foam, or the faint lines of spars and rigging through the spume and
frozen haze--the unmistakable signs of a vessel in distress. An
instant's concentrated gaze to make sure, 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 parlour match it caught fire and flared out a
brilliant red light. This served to warn the crew of the vessel of their
danger, or notified them that their distress was observed and that help
was soon forthcoming; it also served, if the surfman was near enough to
the station, to notify the lookout there of the ship in distress. If the
distance was too great or the weather too thick, the patrol raced back