A description of the men at work is given at this moment in order that one may know exactly how a life-saving crew goes to work, and it must not be supposed that Keeper Downey’s men, or even Benny Foster, directed their gaze all the time toward these operations, without glancing seaward where was the noble vessel grinding her life out upon the cruel rocks, as her crew looked down into the face of what would have been certain death but for the presence of those brave fellows on the bluff. When the men halted with the wagon, and even while they were removing the implements, every one could see the schooner as she lay not more than a hundred and fifty yards from the shore, heading directly toward them. So large was she, and with her sails holding back, as it were, much of the snow, even Benny could distinguish her quite distinctly, and while his comrades labored as do men who work in defence of their lives, he saw portions of rail and deck torn off piece-meal by the waves which were striking sledge-hammer blows against the side of the doomed craft, each one sounding, even above the howling of the blasts, like the booming of a cannon. Seven men could be made out now and then when the snow wreaths were less dense, in various places of refuge about the wreck; three were aloft in the port mizzen-rigging, one in the port fore-rigging, and three about the forecastle, or in the bowsprit. In these positions they remained apparently immovable. It was to Benny as if they were frozen beyond the power of movement, as indeed might have been the case, for the night was bitterly cold. So near the shore did the wreck lay that it seemed impossible Downey could miss his aim. Benny heard Joe Cushing say: “With five ounces of powder and a No. 9 shot-line bent on, there should be no trouble in opening communication with those poor fellows.” Then the keeper had adjusted the piece and pulled the lanyard. Benny saw a tongue of flame leap out from the mouth of the gun, and as the shot sped through the air, the line, so carefully laid in the faking-box, uncoiled length by length, until suddenly and without apparent cause it parted. The shot sped on; but fully two thirds of the line remained in the box. In the shortest possible space of time, and without unnecessary words, the cannon was reloaded with the same amount of powder and the same-sized line as before. Once more appeared the tongue of flame. In the midst of it the lad, who hardly breathed because of his excitement, saw the missile as it sped onward true to its aim, dragging after it length upon length of thin line which unloosed from the box in the most perfect fashion, and then a loud cry of triumph went up from the brave fellows who had expended so much labor to aid the unfortunate mariners.