t a vessel had struck upon
the fatal Goodwin Sands. The report of the gun could not be heard,
owing to the gale carrying the sound to leeward, but the bright line of
the rocket was distinctly visible. At the same moment the flaring light
of a burning tar-barrel was observed. It was the signal of the vessel
in distress just on the southern tail of the sands.

By this time the gun was charged and the rocket in position.

"Look alive, Jack, fetch the poker!" cried the mate as he primed the
gun.

Jack Shales dived down the companion-hatch, and in another moment
returned with a red-hot poker, which the mate had thrust into the cabin
fire at the first alarm. He applied it in quick succession to the gun
and rocket. A blinding flash and deafening crash were followed by the
whiz of the rocket as it sprang with a magnificent curve far away into
the surrounding darkness.

This was their answer to the South sandhead light, which, having fired
three guns and sent up three rockets to attract the attention of the
Gull, then ceased firing. It was also their first note of warning to
the look-out on the pier of Ramsgate harbour. Of the three light-ships
that guarded the sands, the Gull lay nearest to Ramsgate; hence,
whichever of the other two happened to send up signals, the Gull had to
reply and thenceforward to continue repeating them until the attention
of the Ramsgate look-out should be gained, and a reply given.

"That's a beauty," cried the mate, referring to the rocket; "fetch
another, Jack; sponge her well out, Dick Moy, we'll give 'em another
shot in a few minutes."

Loud and clear were both the signals, but four and a half miles of
distance and a fresh gale neutralised their influence. The look-out on
the pier did not observe them. In less than five minutes the gun and
rocket were fired again. Still no answering signal came from Ramsgate.

"Load the weather gun this time," cried the mate, "they'll have a better
chance of seeing the flash of that."

Jack obeyed, and Jim Welton, having nothing to do but look on, sought
shelter under the lee of the weather bulwarks, for the wind, according
to Dick Moy, "was blowin' needles and penknives."

The third gun thundered forth and shook the floating light from stem to
stern, but the rocket struck the rigging and made a low wavering flight.
Another was therefore sent up, but it had scarcely cut its bright line
across the sky when the answering signal was observed--a ro