Tom held his nerves steady, although he was somewhat shaken.  His first business was to send a response to the ship in distress.  He did not know what the facilities might be for receiving on board the steamer, but he followed usage.  He had no means of knowing what other stations had caught the flying cry for help.  The lifesaving station was twenty miles to the north.  Station Z was the nearest wireless to Garvey Rocks by some thirty miles, and everything depended on him in the present crisis.

Tom ran to the window and looked out at the storm.  It was truly a fearful night.  The strong blast was bending the trees almost to the ground and sending the gravel scudding along the beach like hailstones.

Aloft the heavens were one constant glow of liquid fire, and the thunder crashes reverberated as in a hollow vault.  The sea was lashed into a tremendous fury, the waves sweeping mountain high and breaking with a detonating roar that added to the babel of the night.

“I wish Ben was here,” murmured Tom in deep concern.  He could picture the disabled steamer vividly in his mind’s eye, the more readily because his fond girl friend was in peril.

“Y-3” - again the call came, less distinct this time, but more frantic and urgent - “ship aleak and sinking.”

“Will get help to you somehow,” flashed back Tom.

He was in a tremor.  Amid the strain of undue excitement Tom’s thoughts ran rapidly.  Only for a moment, however, did he remain inert and undecided.

“Something must be done!” he cried, in an excess of frantic anxiety and apparent helplessness.  “But what?  There is not a boat on the beach that could live in those waters - except the Beulah!”

The addendum was a shout.  Tom sprang to his feet, electrically infused with a sudden suggestion.

Beulah was the name of the big pretentious gasoline launch in which Bert Aldrich had arrived in state at Rockley Cove.  He had bragged mightily concerning its possibilities.  Tom had seen him do things with it, too.  The Beulah was a wonder as to speed and staunchness.  A thrilling resolution fixed our hero’s mind.  He would arouse the people, reach Aldrich and influence him to loan the boat for an attempted rescue at sea.

Tom was down the trap ladder in one reckless slide.  He ran down the shore buffeted, yet helped along by the powerful hurricane blast.  Bert Aldrich was a guest at the home of Mart Walters and that was the prospective destination of the resolute young wireless operator.

Tom came in sight of the pier where the Beulah was moored.  He could make out her outlines dimly.  She was hugging the pier fitfully, tossing to and fro.

“Why,” exclaimed Tom with a gasp of glad discovery, “some one is on board!”

Only for a moment to his vision, apparently inside the cabin of the restless tugging craft, a flicker of radiance showed.  It suggested the lighting of a match and then its extinguishment.  The indication of occupancy of the launch was enough for Tom.  He diverged from the road, lined the beach, ran down the pier, and jumped aboard the Beulah.

Rounding the cabin Tom recoiled with a shock.  Some one had leaped from the covert of a deep shadow and pinned his arms behind him.

“Got you at last, have I?” shouted a determined voice in his ears.

“Hold on,” demurred Tom struggling violently.

“No, you don’t!  I’ve got you, Bert Aldrich, and we’re going to have a settlement of that eleven dollars and seventy-five cents right here and now.”

“I’m not Bert Aldrich!  Don’t you know me, Bill?”

“Tom Barnes!”

“Yes.”

The Barber boy let Tom go as if he were a hot coal.

“Say, excuse me, will you?” he stammered.

“That’s all right, Bill.  What are you doing here in this storm?”

“Waiting.  Can’t you guess - waiting to nail Bert Aldrich.”

“It isn’t likely he will show up such a night as this.”

“He’s a coward, but he’d risk a good deal to get away without meeting me.  And what are you doing here, Tom Barnes?”

Instantly Tom was recalled to the urgency of the moment.  The discovery of Bill Barber aboard the launch suggested a change in his plans.

“Bill,” he asked quickly, “do you understand running this craft?”

“Do I understand?” stormed Bill; “say, if anybody but you asked me that I’d knock him down.”

“Something of an expert, are you?”

“Do you want to try me?”

“Just that, Bill,” rejoined Tom seriously.  “Listen.”

Briefly but graphically Tom recited the cause of his visit to the launch.  He had Bill literally on fire with excitement and energy by the time he had concluded.

“See here, Tom Barnes,” cried Bill, “there’s no time to lose!”

“That is certain, Bill.”

“The steamer is in danger.”

“Just as I told you.”

“Off Garvey Rocks?”

“Yes.”

“When we get afloat we can probably make out her lights?”

“Probably.”

“You want me to help you get to the Olivia?”

“We’ve got to.”

“I’m your man.”

“I suppose Aldrich will resent our appropriation of his launch.”

“Let him,” said Bill with a laugh.  “I’ll take out that eleven dollars and seventy-five cents in the use of the Beulah.  See?  All aboard!  Follow me!”

The Barber boy made a dash for the engine room of the launch followed by the young wireless operator.