"I'll go back and get the matches," said Harry, "if you'll get some wood. The fire may help the poor men to see where the shore is."
While he was gone, the rest hunted eagerly for fire-wood, of which they collected a large pile, and soon a bright fire was blazing on the beach.
"We don't hear the gun any more," said Joe. "That must be because they see us."
"Or else because they can't fire it any more. They must all be in the rigging now, trying to keep from being washed overboard. They probably fired the gun before they struck on the bar," said Charley.
"Will they all be drowned?" asked Tom.
"They will, unless the wind and the sea go down very soon," answered Charley. "No vessel can hold together long on that bar in such weather as this."
"There's a light!" exclaimed Joe. "Somebody is coming this way."
The light proved to be carried by one of a party of four men from the mainland, who had heard the guns some time before the boys had heard them, and who had rowed across the bay. They went to one of the coast-patrol houses, which stood in a hollow sheltered by the sand-hills, only a rod or two from where the boys had built their fire. The boys followed them, anxious to lend their aid if they could be of any service.
The house was full of ropes, life-buoys, and other apparatus, besides two large boats. Into one of these the men threw coils of rope, cork-jackets, rockets, and a quantity of articles of which the boys knew neither the names nor the uses, and were about to run her out through the open door, when the leader said: "Leave that boat here, and get out that there mortar first. We can come back for the boat if we have to use her."
There was a small mortar in one corner of the room, and the men proceeded to drag it out. Charley spoke to the man who seemed to be in command, and said, "If we can do anything, please let us know."