“That means,” said Walter, “all ready for use, any moment.”
“Yes, we may be wanted any hour, and we can’t go out, service–time, unless we put those jackets on.”
“So Tom Walker told me. Let me see—Oh, there’s the axe Tom said you kept in the boat; and there’s a hatchet, and you have got ‘Uncle Sam’s’ mark on them.”
“Yes. There’s a rudder too, which we can use in smooth water. This is a surf–boat, but there are in the service some life–boat stations. On the Lakes, and Pacific coast, you find ’em. Life–boats are better for a shore that is bold, where the water runs deep.”
Along the right hand wall of the boat–room, extended a miscellaneous collection of apparatus. There was a mortar for shooting a line to a wreck, the ball used being a twenty–four pound round shot. There were shovels and a Merriman rubber suit. Wound ingeniously and carefully on pins, were long coils of shot–line, that could be slipped off any moment, and sent whizzing and flying behind an iron ball. There were also long coils of rope, to be used in completing the connection between a wreck and the shore. Of the three sizes, the largest, a four–inch cable, was employed with the life–car, and a three–inch cable with the breeches buoy.
“There it is!” exclaimed Walter enthusiastically, as he crossed to the left of the surf–boat and looked up at the life–car. This was suspended from the ceiling. It resembled a boat, but it was covered. In the center of the cover or roof, was an opening. At each end of the car, were air–chambers.
“Woodbury Elliott says four small persons, or three large ones, can get in there.”
“Yes, we calc’late to stow that number away.”
“And that opening is the manhole.”
“Yes, and when you are in, you can fasten the cover from the inside, and be tight as a fly inside a drum.”