"They'll be killed! Oh, they will!" shrieked Mary Cox.
The long craft, half-smothered in foam, and accompanied by the plunging timbers from the wreck, darted shoreward with increasing velocity. One moment it was high above their heads, with the curling wave ready to break, and the sea sucking away beneath its keel—bared for half its length.
Crash! Down the boat was dashed, with a blow that (so it seemed to the unaccustomed spectators) must tear it asunder.
The crew were dashed from their places by the shock. The waiting longshoremen ran to seize the broken boat and drag it above highwater mark. One of the crew was sucked back with the undertow and disappeared for a full minute. But he came in, high on the next wave, and they caught and saved him.
To the amazement of Ruth Fielding and her young companions, none of the seven men who had manned the boat seemed much the worse for their experience. They breathed heavily and their faces were grim. She could almost have sworn that the youngest of the crew—he had the figure "6" worked on the sleev of his coat—had tears of disappointment in his eyes.
"It's a desperate shame, lads!" croaked old Cap'n Abinadab. "We're bested. And the old
