“I don’t care. I’m going to—”
But Bess did not have time to do anything, for at that moment the captain pulled the lanyard that set off the mortar. The report was loud enough, though partly smothered by the storm.
“It fell short!” exclaimed Rosalie, who was watching intently. “See, it fell into the water!”
“Does that mean they can’t make the rescue?” asked Belle, in an awed voice.
“Oh, no, they’ll fire again,” answered Rosalie.
A guard was hauling in on the line, which had the weight attached to it. Soon it was in the mortar again, the line coiled beside it in a box in a peculiar manner to prevent tangling.
Once more the shot was fired.
“There it goes! It’s going to land this time!” shouted Rosalie in her excitement. A shout from the group of rescued seamen, in which the life guards joined, told that the shot had gone true.
Then began a busy time–not that the men had not worked hard before. But there was need of much haste now, for it was feared the vessel would break up. Quickly the heavy line was sent out and made fast. Then the breeches buoy was rigged, and in a little while a woman was hauled in from the wreck.
“Poor thing!” murmured Cora. “We must help her. She is drenched.”