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.