Part 1 — CAPTAIN HANK'S SUBSTITUTE.

Captain Hank of the Life-boat Patrol Service and Jack Hawley were old friends. The Captain had been at the station near Jack's house for a number of seasons, and when Jack first met him he was such a little chap that the Captain called him "Shorty." Jack had grown, however, into a strong hearty lad, and his one ambition was to get into the life-boat service.

While they were talking one night in the station the sharp ring of the telephone bell made all hands glance up anxiously. Captain Hank strode over to the receiver.

"Hullo!—Yes, Captain Hank.—What is it? Tramp steamer ashore? Yes. How many men do you want? Hullo! Yes. Full relief? All right—send them immediately. Good-by.

"Boys, there's a tramp ashore at the lower station; want the full relief. Trot along, and get back as soon as you can. There's a nasty sea on to-night, and, with the wind right on shore, we might want you."

The men donned their oil-skins and boots, and trotted off down the beach to the lower station, some five miles below. The Captain glanced at the remaining men, enough to man the life-boat, with the man out on patrol.

"It's a fearful night out, boys," he said.

The words had hardly left his mouth when the door opened and the patrol rushed in.

"Three-master ashore on the outer bar, Captain."

Like a flash every man was on his feet and into his oil-skins. Seizing the gun-carriage, they rushed it out and down the plank runway to the beach. Jack ran along with them, and strained his eyes as the Coston signal-light lit up the raging sea and disclosed to view a large three-master lying almost on her beam ends. There was a slight phosphorescent glow where the mad seas, lashed into foam, broke about her, sweeping the decks. Even as he looked two of her masts toppled and fell with a crash. On the shrouds of the remaining one a dark group was huddled.

Jack's heart thrilled with excitement and pity. Poor fellows! their lives must be saved!

The life-saving crew were busy with the gun, and in a few minutes away went the shot carrying a delicate line out to the wreck. It fell short or the wind drove it back. Again and again they tried it, but without success. The wind seemed to carry it to one side.

"It's no use, boys, trying to rig the breeches buoy," roared the Captain; "we've got to man the life-boat, so get on your corks. I'll telephone to the lower station to see if I can get any of the boys back."

Jack longed to go in the boat, but he knew it was impossible, and, sheltered behind it, he watched the black shadow on the bar, and hoped they would be in time to save the lives out there. The wind was sweeping and screaming with violent force, and the cold spray lashed the beach with foam. Jack heard one of the men yell to his neighbor that the Captain was a long while, and, thinking he could be of help, he ran back to hurry him up.

As he entered the station a low groan greeted him. The Captain lay in the middle of the floor, motionless. He had stumbled over some rope in his hurry, and broken his arm.

"It's no use, Jack," he moaned; "I can't go out with this arm. We will need the six oars in such a sea."

Jack paused. "Captain," he said, "they will launch the boat." And catching a heavy oil-skin coat off a peg he rushed down to the beach. The men stood waiting, looking out to sea. Without saying a word he gripped the boat, and when the right breaker came he gruffly shouted, "Now, men," as he had often heard the Captain, and with a strong heave and all together they rushed the boat out into the surf and leaped aboard.

Jack seized the steering-oar, and before the next wave could swamp them they got a grip on the water and successfully mounted it. It was a remarkable launch in such a sea, and promised success for their other efforts.

They were going right into the teeth of the gale, and the crew rose to the work. It was hard work, though. The wind beat them back, tearing at their frail craft with fierce tugs, dashing the frozen spray over them in sheets. To reach the wreck Jack had to keep off the wind a little, and time and time again the boat's head would swing around, and his heart would jump as the monstrous waves threatened to swamp her.

His hands were numb with cold and his face frozen with spray. The crew bent over their oars. They knew nothing of the change of Captains, and when they heard the gruff commands, they may have wondered at the boyishness of the tones, but never dreamed who was steering the boat.

They were nearing the ship, and with admirable skill, in keeping with his efforts from the start, Jack got up in the lee of the wreck, directly under the shrouds to which the group was clinging. Slowly but surely, one by one, the men scrambled down the rigging and, when a favorable opportunity presented itself, leaped aboard.

There were five men, and as the last came aboard Jack did a neat bit of steering that even the brave crew of the life-boat noticed and cheered. They left the wreck, and with their backs to the mad wind, they bounded over the roaring waves towards the shore.

Jack kept the boat directly in front of the storm, and as they neared the surf his command rang out, "Steady!" And then a gigantic wave raised them on its crest and, with a swirl and a roar, ran them upon the beach. In a trice they ran the boat out of reach of the surf.

In the snug warmth of the station the crew started to cheer the dripping Captain in his oil-skins; but when he took off the broad-brimmed hat that hid his face and they saw Jack, they were mute. One of them rushed to their Captain's bunk, and when he saw the helpless figure of the real Captain lying there, he pointed to it and then to Jack.

Hubert Earl.