a limit to the strain to which the tackle could be
subjected. Once the main rope leading from the anchor to the ship, on
which cable the buoy ran, parted, and nothing could save those last two
lives. No wonder the captain wanted haste.

"Haul away!" he bellowed through the roar of the wind, using his hands
as a trumpet. "Haul away, men!"

His companions braced themselves in the shifting sand. They bent their
backs. Their arms swelled into bunches of muscles that had been trained
in the hard school of the sea.

"Will the haul-rope stand it?" cried one man.

"She's _got_ to stand it!" cried the captain. "She's just _got_ to!
Pull, men; you're not half hauling!"

"If that rope gives," faltered an old, gray-haired man, who seemed too
aged for this life, "if that rope gives way----"

"Don't you talk about it!" snapped the captain. "I'll take all the
responsibility of that rope. It'll hold all right. I looked at it the
other day. All you've got to do is pull! Do you hear me? Pull as you
never pulled before!"

Once more the backs of the men bent to the strain. The moving picture
boys, watching and waiting; filled with anxiety even as they filmed the
wreck, saw that the rise and fall of the waves had a good deal to do
with the rescue.

"They can pull better when the waves don't wash over those two poor
souls in the buoy," observed Blake.

"Yes, there's less resistance," agreed Joe. "Oh, there comes a big one!"
and, as he spoke, an immense comber buried from sight the two whom the
life-savers were endeavoring to pull from the grip of the sea.

"If they can only hold their breaths long enough, they may come through
it," said Blake. "But it's a tough proposition."

"It sure is," agreed his chum. They had gone back to snap a few
pictures, and then, finding that the automatic apparatus was working
well, they again joined the group on the sands.

"Another pull or two and we'll have 'em ashore!" yelled the captain.
"Lively, men!"

As he spoke a grizzled seaman rushed up to him.

"That anchor's slippin' ag'in!" he bellowed through the noise of the
storm. "I can't put sand on fast enough to hold it!"

"Then I'll have some one help you!" cried the captain. "Here, Si Watson!
You git back there and help Jim pile sand on that anchor. It mustn't be
allowed to pull out--do you understand? It mustn't pull out if--if you
have to--sit on it!"

"Aye--aye, sir," was the answer, and the two men ran back to where the
anchor was