He buttoned his coat tightly across his chest and pushed through the group.  Men and women alike made way for him, and in his ringing ears he heard such phrases as: 

“He’s the man to do it!”

“That’s Cap’n Am’zon for ye!”

“There’s one Silt ain’t afraid of salt water, whatever Cap’n Abe may be!”

“Will you come, Cap’n Am’zon?” called the skipper of the life-saving crew.

“I’m coming,” mumbled the storekeeper, and held up his arms that Milt Baker might fasten the belt about his body.

Afterward Milt was fond of declaring that the look on Cap’n Amazon’s face at that moment prophesied the tragedy that was to follow.  “He seen death facin’ him—­an’ he warn’t afraid,” Milt said reverently.

“In with you, boys!” shouted the skipper.  “And hook your belts—­every man of you!  If she overturns again I want to be able to count noses when we come right side up.  Now!”

A shuddering cry from the women, in which Louise found herself joining; a “Yo! heave-ho!” from the men who launched the craft.  Then the lifeboat was in the surf again, her crew laboring like the sons of Hercules they were to keep her head to the wind and to the breakers.

The storekeeper was no weakling; rowing was an accomplishment he had excelled in from childhood.  It was the single activity in any way connected with the sea that he had learned and maintained.

At first he kept his eyes shut—­tight shut.  A strange thrill went through him, however.  All these years he had shrunk from an unknown, an unexperienced, peril.  Was it that Cap’n Abe had been frightened by a bogey, after all?

He opened his eyes, pulling rhythmically with the oar—­never missing a stroke.  His gaze rested on the face of that old sea-dog, Cap’n Jim Trainor.  The fierce light of determination dwelt there.  The skipper meant to get to the wrecked schooner.  He had no doubt of accomplishing this, and Cap’n Abe caught fire of courage from the skipper’s transfigured countenance.

As for Lawford Tapp, no member of Cap’n Trainor’s crew pulled a better oar than he.  With the bow ash he drove on like a young giant.  Fear did not enter into his emotions.

There was nobody to notice the pallor of the storekeeper’s visage.  Every man’s attention was centered on his own oar, while the skipper gazed ahead at the wave-beaten schooner grounded hard and fast upon the reef.

There was no lull in the gale.  Indeed, it seemed as though the strength of the wind steadily rose.  The lifeboat only crept from the shore on its course to Gull Rocks.  Each yard must be fought for by the earnest crew.

Occasionally Cap’n Trainor called an encouraging sentence at them.  For the most part, however, only the ravening sea roared malice in their ears.

Around them the hungry waves leaped and fought for their lives; but the buoyant boat, held true to her course by the skipper, bore up nobly under the strain.  They won on, foot by foot.