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It seemed like a mad race for life, for the boy pilot had said:

“Anchors will not hold on this bottom, and we must round that reef to reach safety.”

At last the order came in the boy’s clear voice:

“Slack off the sheets! steady now! hold hard all!”

And with the orders the howling storm was upon them, and the gallant yacht went driving ahead with furious speed, with all about her now darkness and chaos.

How he knew his way, all asked, none knew, but his orders came steadily to haul taunt, or slack off sheets, until suddenly the giant waves ceased to follow, the wind was broken by the lofty cliff, and the anchors were let go in the secure haven of Beacon Cliff.

The first one to grasp the hand of the brave lad was the Secretary of the Navy, and his voice had a tremor in it as he said:

“My young friend, your courage this day has won your right to serve your country in a position of honor, and I pledge for you an appointment-at-large from the President of the berth of a cadet midshipman.”