There was a snap—the rope had parted, but so near to the beach were the two that the life-savers waded into the foam and spume, and grabbed them, holding them safe.
They were hauled to the beach, on which huddled the others who had been saved from the wreck.
The lone woman had been taken in charge by the feminine members of the theatrical troupe, who led her toward their boarding house. They said they would soon have hot coffee ready for all the sailors.
“Get ’em out of the buoy!” cried the captain, as the two last rescued were seen to be well-nigh insensible. They were assisted out, and sank helpless on the sand.
“Pretty far gone,” remarked a life saver. “One must be the captain, I reckon.”
“And the other,” began Harry Stanton, keeper of the Rockypoint light; “the other—why, if it isn’t Nate Duncan, who used to be my assistant! He came out of the wreck—Nate Duncan!”