the station. We'll come to help as soon as we can, and bring all the men we can find."
"Good!" shouted the man. "It'll take some time to get the apparatus in shape, and we'll have to drag it up the beach from the station, to about the place where she'll come on the rocks. Go ahead, give the alarm, and I'll go back. Whew! But this is a fierce storm!"
"Come on!" cried Blake to his chum, and they raced toward the little fishing hamlet.
"Say!" shouted Joe. "I've got an idea!"
"What is it?"
"The wreck—it'll come close on shore, the guard says; why not make some moving pictures of it? They'll be just what Mr. Hadley wants."
"That's it!" yelled Blake. "You've struck it. Go on and tell Mr. Ringold, Mr. Hadley and the others, and I'll get the fishermen. Then we'll go down the beach until we meet the life savers. It's a great chance, Joe!"
The lads separated, one to arouse the fishermen, most of whom were in their shacks, for it was out of the question to lift the nets in the tremendous seas that were running.
"Come on!" cried Blake, as he saw old Abe Haskill come out to look at the weather. "Wreck—ship coming ashore. The coast guards need help!"
