THE LAST CHANCE.
Exactly ten years after the events narrated in the previous chapter had
taken place, the Ramsgate lifeboatmen were again conspicuous for their
gallantry in saving life under the most trying circumstances. About one
o'clock on the morning of the 6th of January 1891, the schooner
_Crocodile_, bound for London with a cargo of stone, ran ashore on the
Goodwins. Blinding snow squalls prevailed at the time, and the wind
blew with the force of a hurricane. Immediately the vessel struck, she
turned completely round and went broadside on to the sands. On
realising their position, the crew burnt flares, made by tearing up
their clothes and soaking the rags in oil, and attracted the attention
of those on board the Gull lightship, who immediately fired signal-guns
to summon the lifeboat. Scarcely, however, had the flare been burned
than the sailors were compelled by the high seas to take to the rigging.
Great waves swept the decks, carrying everything before them; even the
ship's boats were wrenched from the davits and whirled away as if they
had been toys.
In answer to the guns the Ramsgate tug and lifeboat were manned and
steered in the direction of the flare. Huge seas broke over the
lifeboat and froze as they fell on the almost motionless figures of the
boatmen. The snow came down in pitiless showers, enveloping them in its
white mantle. In a short time the tug had towed the _Bradford_ to
windward of the vessel. Then the rope was thrown off, the sail was
hoisted, and the boat made for the wreck. She had not gone far before a
terrific snow squall overtook her. Fearing that they would be driven
past the vessel without seeing her, the coxswain ordered the anchor to
be thrown out. This was done, and the boat lay-to till the sudden fury
of the gale had spent itself. Then the anchor was hoisted in and all
sail made for the wreck.
Again the anchor was let go, just to windward of her, and the lifeboat
was veered cautiously down. As they drew nearer, the men could see the
crouching figures of the sailors lashed to the rigging. They seemed
more dead than alive, and gazed upon the men who were risking their own
lives, to save them with the fixed stare of indifference or death. The
lifeboat ran in under the stern and was brought up alongside. The
grapnel was got out, and one of the men stood up, ready to throw it into
the rigging on the first favourable opportunity. Suddenly a mighty
billow swooped down upon them. The anchor cable--5 inches thick--was
snapped like a thread, and the boat was borne on the crest of the wave
far out of reach of the wreck.
[Illustration: A LIFEBOAT GOING OUT.]
As quickly as possible the sail was again set, and the trusty _Bradford_
made for the tug, which was burning blue lights to show where she was.
After many attempts a rope was secured on board, and the _Aid_ steamed
to windward the second time with the lifeboat in tow. Once more she was
in a favourable position for the wreck, the rope was cast off, and the
sail hoisted. The second and last anchor was let go, and the cable was
slowly slackened. If they failed this time the men must perish. It was
a terribly anxious moment, but fortune favoured them, and the lifeboat
was successfully brought into her former position alongside.
The hull of the _Crocodile_ was now entirely under water, and her deck
was washed by every wave. High up in the rigging, on the side opposite
to that on which the lifeboat lay, the crew were huddled. The only way
for them to reach the lifeboat was by climbing to the masthead and
coming down on the other side. This is a feat which requires no little
steadiness of hand and eye, and when we remember that these poor sailors
had been exposed for nearly five hours on this January night to the full
fury of a wintry storm, we shall be better able to appreciate the
terrors through which they passed before they found themselves safe in
the lifeboat.
In obedience to the coxswain's order, they unlashed themselves and began
to crawl aloft. Every sea shook the vessel, and, as she settled again
on the sands, the masts bent almost double. Their progress was slow,
but before long they were in a position to be rescued. This was done
with great difficulty, for the heavy seas caused the lifeboat to strike
against the vessel several times with considerable violence, but her
cork fender protected her from injury. At length the whole crew of six
men were hauled safely on board. The captain alone remained to be
rescued.
High up at the masthead he could be seen preparing to cross from the
opposite side. Benumbed by the cold and bewildered by the swaying of
the masts, he paused for a moment. The lifeboatmen shouted words of
encouragement to him, and he prepared to come on, but he missed his hold
and fell into the seething waves eddying round the wreck. As he fell his
lifebelt caught on something, and was torn off, and before the boatmen
could lay hold of him he was swept out of their sight for ever.
The lifeboat was quickly got clear of the wreck, and proceeded under
sail to the tug, which was in waiting some distance off. Ramsgate was
reached about eight o'clock in the morning, where the rescued men were
supplied with dry clothing and food, of which they stood greatly in
need.
There is a circumstance of peculiar interest connected with the wreck of
the _Crocodile_. Two days before she struck on the sands, her sister
ship, the _Kate_, also laden with stone, was stranded on the Goodwins.
On that occasion the lifeboat _Mary Somerville_ of Deal went out to
assist. The lifeboatmen were employed to throw the cargo overboard and
try to get the vessel afloat. This was successfully accomplished, and
on the morning of the day on which the _Crocodile_ was wrecked, her
sister ship was towed into Ramsgate harbour with her crew of nine men on
board.