a stout pair of wooden "shears" in the sand and over this the breeches buoy gear ran.
It went out empty, but the moment it reached the staggering wreck the men there popped the woman into the sack and those ashore hauled in. Over and through the waves she came, and when they caught her at the edge of the surf and dragged the heavy buoy on to the dry land, she was all but breathless, and was crying.
"Don't ye fear, Missus," said one rough but kindly boatman. "We'll have yer little gal ashore in a jiffy."
"She—she isn't my child, poor thing," panted the woman. "I'm Captain Kirby's wife. Poor Jim! he won't leave till the last one"
"Of course he won't, ma'am—and you wouldn't want him to," broke in Cap'n Cope. "A skipper's got to stand by his ship till his crew an' passengers are safe. Now, you go right up to the station"
"Oh, no, no!" she cried. "I must see them all safe ashore."
The huge buoy was already being hauled back to the wreck. There was no time to be lost, for the waves had torn away the after-deck and it was feared the forward deck and the mast would soon go.
Ruth went to the woman and spoke to her softly.
