ng crash followed a lurid glare, lighting up sky and sea. Again
came the sharp detonation, but little louder than a fire-cracker. This
time all heard it.

"A signal-gun!"

Lane's voice was full of excitement. He sprang to the door and the
others followed. The gale was blowing squarely against the end of the
cabin. So great was its force that Roger had all he could do to push the
door open. Presently the five stood outside, exposed to the full fury of
the blast. For a few seconds all was black.

"Look! A rocket!"

Up from the pitchy sea southwest of Brimstone shot a line of fire,
curving into an arc and bursting aloft in a shower of many-colored
balls. At its base were dimly visible two slender masts and a white
hull. Almost instantly they vanished; but the boys had seen enough.

"A steam-yacht!" cried Jim. "Not more than a half-mile off Brimstone and
drifting straight on the ledges. Looks as if she was a goner!"

"Can't we help her somehow?" asked Percy.

"I'm afraid not. We couldn't drive the sloop against this gale and sea;
besides, those rollers would swamp a life-boat. All we can do is to get
out on the point and try to save anybody who comes ashore. Put on your
oil-clothes, fellows! Light both the lanterns, Percy! Budge, you and
Throppy each take one of those spare coils of rope! I'll carry another
and the Coston lights. Now I can see why Uncle Tom always insisted on
having a couple of 'em in the cabin. Filippo, you'd better stay here,
keep up a good fire, and make plenty of coffee. There goes another
rocket! The gun, too! I don't blame 'em. Men couldn't be in a worse
fix!"

Leaning sidewise against the gale, the little lantern-guided procession
trudged along the sea-wall and stumblingly ascended the slippery path to
the beacon on Brimstone. Sheltering the oil-soaked kindlings with his
body, Jim scratched a match; and in a twinkling long tongues of smoky
flame were streaming wildly to leeward.

"Ah! They see us!"

Three rockets in quick succession rose from the yacht, now barely a
quarter-mile away. The thunder and lightning were almost continuous.
Every flash told that the imperiled craft was steadily drifting nearer
the dangerous promontory.

"She'll strike the Grumblers!" muttered Jim. "And that means she's done
for! If only she was a thousand feet farther east she'd float by into
the cove. Hard luck!"

The Grumblers were a collection of jagged rocks, exposed at low tide.
Under the incessant flas