the cart, about which went many turns of a stout rope. Then there was the
wreck-gun. There were also shovels and various apparatus.

"Now, boys," shouted Captain Peters, who had charge of the station, "all
hands for the P'int!"

That slow-moving, clumsy man that Charlie had seen in the station when he
called, was now changed to a very nimble-footed being, and his comrades
were as active. Away they went, threatening to leave Charlie and Tony far
behind, but the boys grabbed Will by the hand and rapidly as possible
pushed on after the enterprising apothecary.

"Getting to be morning," shouted Will. While the shadows were still thick
on the beach, over in the east was a grayish, uncertain light. There were
occasional discharges of rockets from the vessel in distress.

"O dear!" said the breathless Charlie.

"I can't hold out much longer," thought Tony.

Will, though, pushed stoutly on, and it was manifest that a wreck excited
him as much as a fire. The distance to Gull Point from the station was at
least a mile and a half. The point itself was a rocky stretch into the sea
measuring about six hundred feet in length. Day was creeping over the
water; finally, a thin, sullen light, revealing a wild, ghostly tumult of
waves. The surf that ordinarily broke near the shore seemed to whiten the
water as far as the eye could reach. It was the angriest tumult of foam
possible, as if the frothing of millions of enraged creatures of the sea.

"Ah, there she is!" shouted John Fisher, as the cart neared the shore-end
of the point.

"_We_ will get her!" screamed Charlie, as he reached the cart. The men
laughed.

"It's a three-masted schooner," bawled Captain Peters, "and she's where
the life-boat can't reach her, but our wreck-gun will. That craft has
keeled over on Deep Rock, near the very P'int itself! Get out the gun!"

The men now took from the cart a small cannon, then a mass of rope, and
then a rope of larger size.

"Take out that life-car, too!" shouted Captain Peters. Charlie watched
every thing that was done with an intense curiosity. He sat down on the
cannon to rest his short, fat legs.

"Sonny!" shouted John Fisher--the roar of the surf compelled every one to
shout--"do you know what we are up to?"

Charlie shook his head.

"Well, that cannon is loaded, and--"

Up sprang Charlie. He did not want a seat like that.

"And the shot has a light but strong line hitched to it. A man will p'int
the gun so that whe