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 flashes their black heads appeared and disappeared in a welter of frothy white. It was an ominous spectacle for the men on the yacht.
Taking one of the Coston lights, Jim clambered down on the ledges. Soon the warning red glare of the torch, held high above his head, was illumining the rocks and breakers. He held the light aloft until it went out, then rejoined the others.
"They're getting a boat over!" cried Stevens.
Half a dozen men, working with frantic haste, were swinging a tender out to leeward.
"No use!" said Jim, despondently. "She won't live a minute in this sea."
Ten seconds confirmed his prediction. The yacht rolled. As the boat struck the water a giant sea filled her. Then came darkness. The next flash showed the boat drifting bottom up beside the larger craft. Another tender was launched; it survived one sea, but the next overturned it. Still a third boat met with the same fate.
Every surge was heaving the yacht nearer the breakers with dismaying speed. A group of figures gathered amidships. Silently, with pale faces, the boys watched the progress of the doomed craft. She was going to her death. How could any of those on board escape?
"Now, fellows," he cried, "the minute she strikes she'll begin to pound to pieces! Their only chance'll be to run a line ashore. We must get out as far as we can to catch it."
Every billow buried the base of the point in snowy foam and sent the spray flying far up its rugged front. Using the utmost caution, the boys descended to the limit of safety. At the next flash they peered eagerly seaward.
The yacht was almost on the Grumblers! Up she heaved on a high surge, dropped. They caught their breaths. No! Not that time. She rose again.
Suddenly she stopped. A grinding crash reached their ears.