Then the crew settled down to the dull routine of pleasant-weather work, occupying the greater portion of the time in drilling and patrolling the coast. Benny could give a very good synopsis of, and in many cases repeat verbatim, every chapter in the _Revised Regulations_. Each of the crew in turn had taught Fluff C. Foster a new trick, until his head was so stored with knowledge of this kind that a full hour was required in which to display all his accomplishments, and Joe Cushing had begun to lay his plans for the day when he and No. 8 were to visit the city clad in full uniform. Then came a letter which disturbed all this serenity, and plunged the inmates of the station into a most painful state of perplexity and apprehension. An ordinary-looking envelope covered the missive, such an one as might have brought an account of the simplest business transaction, and yet it threatened to change the whole course of affairs for this particular life-saving crew. It was addressed simply to the keeper of the station, and bore the post-mark of a town in the interior of New York State. [Illustration] Tom Downey opened it carelessly, read the lines hurriedly at first, and then more slowly, as if he found it difficult to understand the meaning. He sat with his gaze fixed upon the page so long that Sam Hardy, who had been questioning Benny regarding the proper method of landing in a small boat through the surf, asked curiously: “What’s gone wrong? You look as if there was bad news in that letter.” “And at first glance it strikes me it _is_ bad news,” the keeper replied. “I was tryin’ to make up my mind whether it would be well to let all hands know what may come to us, or if anything would be gained by keepin’ it a secret for a spell.” “If it’s bad news, the sooner we know it the better, accordin’ to my way of thinkin’,” Joe Cushing said promptly; and this remark decided Tom Downey, for without further hesitation he read the following aloud: “‘MY DEAR SIR: “‘I see by the newspapers that the ship _Amazonia_ was wrecked near your station, and the sole survivor was a boy ten or twelve years of age, who gave his name as Benjamin H. Foster, stating that his father and mother had died in Calcutta. “‘I have every reason to believe that boy to be my brother’s son, in which case it shall be my duty to care for him. “‘Will you kindly ask him his father’s name? If it should have been “Stephen G.,” then you may draw on me for sufficient money to pay young Benny’s passage to this place, and for so much additional as he may be indebted to you for board and other necessaries of life. “‘Very respectfully yours, “‘ANDREW FOSTER.’” For fully a moment after Mr. Downey ceased reading no one spoke, and the silence was so profound that Fluff looked anxiously from one to the other as if fearing some disaster had befallen the crew.