They had hurried out when Rosalie brought the news that in the storm of the night a three-masted auxiliary schooner had come too far inshore despite the warning of the light.
“Father was up all night tending the lantern, too!” she shouted–she had to shout to be heard above the roar. “I helped him,” she added. “But in spite of it the schooner worked in. She couldn’t seem to steer properly. We could see her red and green lights once in a while. Then the current caught her and nothing could save her. She went right on the rocks. Her back’s broke, Captain Meeker of the life guards said.”
“Can they save the people?” Cora inquired, as she pulled her raincoat more tightly about her, for the wind seemed fairly to whip open the buttons.
“They’re going to try,” answered the lighthouse maid. “They got some of ’em off in the motor life-boat early this morning, but it’s too rough for that now.”
“What are they going to do, then?” asked Bess.
“Use the breeches buoy. It’s the only way now!” cried Rosalie. “They’re going to fire a line over soon.”
“We don’t want to miss that,” declared Jack.
The wreck had gone on the rocks nearly opposite the lighthouse that guarded them. In this case the guardianship had been in vain, and the sea was hastening to wreak further havoc on the gallant ship.
The boys and girls trudged down to the beach through sand that clung to their feet. They could see the life-savers getting their apparatus in order, and near them were huddled some men–evidently sailors.
“Those are the men who were rescued from the ship,” said Rosalie. “There are more on board, and some passengers, I heard. Some women and children, too!”