, almost like rain. Joe and Blake had on rubber
coats.

"What is it?" cried Blake, as the man came opposite.

He held his hands in funnel shape and yelled:

"A wreck--a big sailing vessel is coming ashore! Her masts are gone, and
she can't get off! She'll strike soon. I want all the men I can get to
help us with the breeches buoy. We can't launch our boat--too heavy
surf!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE DOOMED VESSEL

"You say there's a wreck?" cried Blake.

"Yes, we just made her out through the glass. She's driving on the rocks
fast. The current is setting inshore and the wind is helping it."

"Where is she?" asked Joe.

"Right down there," answered the life guard. "But she'll come up farther
this way," and he pointed down toward the rocks opposite which the boys
had first surprised the wreckers at work.

"I've got to give the alarm," went on the life saver. "We need all the
help we can get. We're short-handed, anyhow, and two of our men were
hurt early this morning trying to launch the surf-boat."

"Can't you get some of the fishermen from around here?" asked Joe.

"That's what I came for."

"And we'll help, too!" cried Blake, bracing himself by leaning against
the wind, which seemed to grow stronger every minute.

"Sure we will," added Joe. "Can you see the vessel?" he asked, peering
eagerly into the spume and spray.

"Maybe she's drifted far enough up by now," went on the coast guard, as
he looked intently in the direction he had pointed. "Yes," he cried a
moment later, "I can catch glimpses of her at times, when the waves go
down a bit. See! There she is now!"

Looking in the direction the guard pointed, Blake and Joe caught a
glimpse of a distant black object rising and falling at the mercy of the
wind and waves. It was the hull of a vessel, and when Blake used the
glass the guard handed him a moment later, he could see the jagged
stumps of broken masts.

"She's in a bad way," remarked the lad, gravely.

"Indeed she is," assented the life saver.

"I wonder if my father is in any such storm as this, on his way to
China?" mused Joe, as he, too, looked through the binoculars.

"It's a bad storm--and a big one, too," said the guard. "But I must
hurry on and give the alarm to the fishermen. The ship will strike soon,
and we want to send a line aboard if we can."

"Wait!" cried Blake, as the man started off. "We'll tell the fishermen.
You can go back to the station. We'll come to help as soon as