“Now and then a red signal was discharged to attract the attention of any poor fellow who might be washed ashore alive, and a faithful search-patrol was maintained along the beach by the entire crew.” That portion of the shore upon which the wind and the current would most likely cast up fragments of the wreck was thickly dotted with every available lantern from the station in the hope that these tiny rays of light might serve as beacons for some sailor whose life had not been crushed out of him by the fury of the surf, and with eager eyes the men peered into the foaming swirl of waters. Five minutes passed, and no sign either of life or death came from the wreck. “There is little chance the breath will yet remain in any who comes ashore now,” Keeper Downey said to Joe Cushing, and the latter replied only with a mournful shake of the head, for it did not seem possible any living thing could come through that mighty surge. The words had no more than been spoken, however, when far away in the distance could be heard the cry of Sam Hardy, and without being able to distinguish the words, those who heard knew from the tone that he had sighted life in some form. All the crew ran that way in hot haste, the keeper leading, and arriving at the spot just as Hardy, all regardless of his own life, had plunged waist-deep into the surf that he might seize upon a short spar to which was lashed a dark mass. None save those who had been trained to the duty of saving life under such circumstances would have recognized the possibility that a human being might be concealed beneath what appeared to be only valueless wreckage; but the crew knew by long experience that amid this particular flotsam would be found, either alive or dead, some one from the ill-fated ship. As Hardy had dashed into the surf so did the others, until a living chain had been formed, and by this means the spar was pulled on shore despite the heavy undertow which strove with giant force against the efforts of the life-savers. Once the wreckage was beyond reach of the towering, roaring waves, few seconds were spent in learning whether the men had, by risking their own lives, saved a human being from death, or if it was but a corpse which had been wrested from the angry waters. From amid wrappings of what appeared to be the fragment of a sail was seen the head of a child; the face was pallid as if death had already set its seal upon it, and not so much as a tremor of the lips could be distinguished in the faint light cast by the lanterns. The cold was searching; the garments of the crew were already stiffening with ice, and if life was to be prevented from leaving that small body, all efforts must be made within the shelter of the station.