Anxious though Benny was, and fearful lest they should not succeed in getting even one ashore, the breeches-buoy appeared to be moving swiftly, as indeed was the case, for every man of the crew, tailing on the whip, was working as only men can under similar circumstances.
The first of the rescued was well-nigh helpless after gaining the shore, and now had come the time when Benny might be of some assistance.
“Let me take care of him, sir, and it will save a man’s labor when you need all hands at the whip,” the lad said as Keeper Downey approached, and the latter replied with a ring of cheeriness in his tones which had not been heard since the work began:
“Here’s where you’ll come in handy, lad. Roust that fellow about; don’t let him remain quiet, for he must keep the blood circulating.”
Then the weather whip was manned, and the buoy forced out toward the wreck to receive another passenger. In again was it hauled, and two lives had been saved.
“Man the weather whip! Haul out!”
The third had taken his place in the breeches-buoy.
“Man the lee whip! Haul ashore!”
The third had been saved.
And so went on the work while the tempest howled and raged; the snow wreathed and whirled as if to blind the life savers, and the sea roared and bellowed at losing its prey; but in time—in a comparatively short time—six were ashore, and only one remained upon the quivering vessel which was now hardly more than a hulk, so sadly had the sea battered and torn it.