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"A little later and you wouldn't have had us!" snarled the leader of the wreckers. "You were too many for us." "That's so," spoke Tom. "How did you happen to come to help us?" he asked of Abe Haskill, who was one of the reinforcing fishermen. "Who sent you?" "Old Stanton telephoned over from the lighthouse," was the answer.
"We'll save every one!" he repeated. "Gloomy in a new rôle a happy one!" remarked Blake. The buoy was hauled back, and another was saved one of the sailors, this time. He reported that there were in all twenty-five hands on the ship, exclusive of the captain. "He'll come last, of course," he said, simply. "Of course," agreed Abe Haskill. "The captain allers does that. Once more, boys!"
In this case, seein' as how Jim Belton sold his shack to you why, you're the owner. And, as I say, we saved her for you!" he concluded, proudly. "Yes, I see you did," remarked Mr. Ringold, dubiously. "Now I've got to buy another, and burn that down, for this play is spoiled." "What! Did you want her to burn?" asked Mr. Haskill, in accents of horror.
The lads separated, one to arouse the fishermen, most of whom were in their shacks, for it was out of the question to lift the nets in the tremendous seas that were running. "Come on!" cried Blake, as he saw old Abe Haskill come out to look at the weather. "Wreck ship coming ashore. The coast guards need help!" "Aye, aye, lad. We're with you!" cried the sturdy old man. "I'll get the boys.
A few more strokes of the pump handles, a few more gallons of water, and the fire, which had quickly attacked all parts of the cottage at once, died out. "There!" cried Abe Haskill, the old fisherman-chief. "We saved your building for ye, Mr. Ringold. Ain't no use in buyin' a shack an' then havin' it burn down no matter if it ain't wuth much.
I want to walk!" pleaded Macaroni, who was not very fond of the water. "You'll be all right in a minute!" called Abe Haskill, who was captain of the boat. "Soon as you git out beyond the breakers you won't mind it." And they found that they did not, though there was some motion, as there was quite a swell on.
"Yes, and with a pesky swordfish too close for comfort!" added Abe Haskill. "Stop that motor, Bunker; we'll have to pick him up." The fisherman who was called to, pulled out the switch, thus stopping the motor, and the boat drifted about on the slowly rising and falling billows. "Can you see him?" asked the captain of the man who acted as mate. "Yes, he's right astern, but that fish "
If virtue consists in deadening the nervous system to all pleasurable influences, why, you may just mark my name off the list. There was old man Haskill.
"Don't you call it wrong to set up a false light to lure unsuspecting captains on the rocks, so you can get your pickings? Wrong!" "Huh! How do you know but what this light was put here as a range finder for us fishermen?" asked the other. "Fishermen! Why, you men never did an honest day's fishing in your lives!" cried Abe Haskill. "Fishing!
"Here come the life savers!" cried Blake a little later, as through the spray that flew over the beach a party of men, in yellow oilskins, could be seen dragging something over the sand. "Yes, and few enough of 'em there are to do the work," said old Abe Haskill. "The government ought to put more men at the station." "Some were hurt, trying to launch the boat this morning," said Joe.
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