Two days later, and after nearly fifteen weeks of arduous and
unremitting labour, there came, one calm night, a glorious spring tide,
and the _Dolphin_, under a full head of steam, and with her stout, broad
frame quivering and throbbing and panting, tugged away at the giant hulk
of the stranded ship; and the ship's own donkey engine and winch wheezed
and groaned as it slowly brought in inch by inch a heavy coir hawser
made fast to a rock half a cable length ahead of the tug. And then the
_Braybrook Castle_ began to move, and the wrecking gang cheered and
cheered until they were hoarse, and the second engineer of the tug and
two stokers, stripped to their waists, with the perspiration streaming
down their roasting bodies, answered with a yell--and then, lying well
over on her starboard bilge, the great ship slid off stern first into
deep water, and Tom Lester's heart leapt within him with joy and pride.
Lucy, as excited as any one else, was on the bridge with him, her face
aglow, and her hand on the lever of the engine-room telegraph.
“Half-speed, Lucy.”
As the bell clanged loudly, and the heart of the sturdy tug beat less
frantically, the wrecking gang on board the ship under Lindley slipped
their end of the coir hawser from the winch barrel, and worked like
madmen to get the ship on an even keel by cutting adrift the lashings of
several hundred barrels of cement (part of the cargo) which were piled
up on the starboard side of the main deck, and letting them plunge
overboard As the ship righted herself inch by inch, and finally stood up
on an even keel, Lester made an agreed-upon signal--blowing his whistle
thrice--for Lindley to stand by his anchors, which were all ready to let
go.
His device of getting up the barrels of cement from the lower hold, and
stowing them against the iron deck stanchions (having previously
cut away the bulwark plates) so as to give the vessel a big cant to
starboard, had answered perfectly; for, high as was the tide that night,
the _Dolphin_, though so powerful, could not have moved a ship of 1,500
tons with her keel still partly sustaining her weight on the rooks on
which she had struck. By canting her as he had done, she had actually
floated--and no more than floated--an hour before the tide was at its
full.
Half an hour later the _Braybrook Castle_ had been towed round to a
little bay just abreast of “Wreck House,” and the tug's engines stopped.
“All ready, Lindley?” shouted Lester.
“All ready sir.”
“Then let go.”
At a tap from Lindley's hammer, the great anchor plunged down, and the
flaked out cable roared as it flew through the hawse-pipes, drowning the
loud “Hurrah” of the men on board.
“What is it, Lindley?” cried Lester, “ten fathoms?”
“Twelve, sir.”
“Give her another twenty-five. It's good holding ground and there is
plenty of room for her to swing. Lindley!”
“Yes, sir.”
“We have had a bit of good luck, eh?”
“Yes, sir. That is because Mrs. Lester is on the tug. She brings us good
luck.”
Lester laughed and turned to his wife. “Do you hear that, Lucy?”
She was gazing intently over to the westward, but turned to him the
moment he spoke.
“Tom, I can see a blue light over there.... Ah, see, there is a rocket!
What is it?”
Lester took his night glasses and looked.
“There is a ship ashore somewhere between here and the Deal Island
light,” he said, and then he rang, “Go astern,” to the engine-room.
“Lindley,” he called as soon as the tug backed alongside the _Braybrook
Castle_, “there is a ship ashore about four miles away from us to the
westward. My wife noticed her signals a few minutes ago.”
“More salvage, sir,” bawled Lindley, “Mrs. Lester is bringing us more
luck. What's to be, sir?”
“I want ten or a dozen men, and I'll go and see what I can do. You are
all right, aren't you?”
“Right as rain, sir.”
Fifteen, instead of a dozen men slid down a line on to the deck of the
tug, and Lucy, at a nod from her husband, turned on “Full steam ahead,”
and Lester whistled down the speaking-tube.
“Hallo!” was the response.
“Give it to her, Patterson, for all she's worth. There is a ship
ashore about four miles away. She is burning blue lights and sending up
rockets.”
Five minutes later, the Dolphin was tearing through the water at her top
speed--eleven knots--and Patterson came up on the bridge.
“Who saw the seegnals first?” he inquired.
“I did, Mr. Patterson,” said Lucy.
“Ay, I thoct as much, Mistress Leslie. Even that lazy, sheeftless Irish
fireman loon ae mine, Rafferty, said ye'd bring us mair guid luck.” Then
he dived below again to the engines so dear to his Scotsman's heart.
The night was dark, but calm and windless, and the panting tug tore her
way through a sea as smooth as glass towards where the ghastly glare of
the last blue light had been seen. Twenty minutes later, Lester caught
sight of the distressed ship. She was lying on her beam ends, and almost
at the same moment came a loud hail--
“Steamer ahoy!”
“Clang!” went the telegraph, and the _Dolphin's_ engines stopped, and
then went astern, just in time to save her from crashing into a boat
crowded with men; a second boat was close astern of the first. They came
alongside, and the occupants swarmed over the tug's low bulwarks, and an
old greybearded man made his way up to Lester.
“My cowardly crew have forced me to abandon my ship. We were caught in
a squall yesterday, and thrown on our beam ends.” Then he fell down in a
fit.
“Veer those boats astern,” cried Lester to his own men, “I'm going to
hook on to that ship!”
Bailey, one of his best men, gave a yell.
“More luck, boys. Mrs. Lester!”
As the poor captain was carried off the bridge into the little cabin,
the _Dolphin_ went ahead, and in a quarter of an hour, Bailey and his
men had cut away the masts and the tug had the ship in tow.
At daylight next morning Lester brought her into the little bay where
the _Braybrook Castle_ lay, and Bailey anchored her safely.
When Lester boarded her he found she was the _Harvest Queen_, sister
ship to the _Harvest Maid_, _Harvester_, and his own last command, the
_Harvest Home_, all ships of 1,500 tons, and belonging to Captain James
Rodway.
“Why didn't you cut away her masts?” he said to the unfortunate captain
later on.
“Ah, you don't know my owner,” the old man replied, “and besides that, I
could have righted the ship if my crew had stuck to me. But after being
eighteen hours on our beam ends, they took fright and lowered the boats.
I'm a ruined man.”
“Not at all. You have done your duty and I'll give you command of
another ship to-day--the _Braybrook Castle_. You have nothing further to
do with the _Harvest Queen_. She was an abandoned ship. She's mine now.
Salvage, you know.”
The old man nodded his head. “Yes, I know that. And you'll make a pot
oat of her.”
“What is she worth?”
“Ship and cargo are worth £80,000. We loaded a general cargo in London.”
“That will be a bit of a knock for Rodway.” “Do you know him?” asked
Captain Blake in surprise.
“I do indeed! I was master of the _Harvest Home_. Now come ashore. My
wife is getting as something to eat.”