A DOUBLE RESCUE.
Clang! clash! roar! rings out the bell at the lifeboat-house, its iron
voice heard even above the thunder of the surf and the whistling wind,
warning the sleeping inhabitants of Deal that a vessel has gone ashore
on the Goodwins. A ray of light gleams across the dark street as a door
opens and a tall figure rushes out--it is that of a lifeboatman.
Presently he is joined by others, and all hurry on as fast as possible,
in the face of the furious wind, to reach the boathouse. Each man
buckles on his lifebelt, and takes his place in the lifeboat. Those who
have failed to get a place help to run it down to the white line of
surf, over the well-greased boards laid down on the shingle. The
coxswain stands up in the stern with the rudder lines in his hands,
watching for a favourable moment to launch. The time has come, the
order is given, and away dashes the lifeboat on her glorious errand.
Onward she plunged under close-reefed sail in the direction of the
flares, which the shipwrecked men were burning to tell the rescuers of
their whereabouts. Suddenly the light went out and was seen no more. A
shriek echoed over the waves, but none could say whether it was that of
"some strong swimmer in his agony," or only the voice of the wind. The
lifeboatmen looked around them on every side, but they could see
nothing; they listened, and heard nothing; they shouted, but no answer
came back. "A minute more and we would have had them," says the
coxswain. "Hard lines for all to perish when help was so near."
Suddenly, through the darkness, the light of another flare was seen.
The boat was at once brought round and headed for the newly-discovered
wreck. It was now midnight, and the sea was like a boiling cauldron,
but the fine seamanship of the crew was a match for the storm. Many an
anxious glance was cast in the direction of the flare, and a fervent
hope was in every heart that this time they would not be too late.
"Hullo! what's that?" exclaimed the lifeboatmen together, as a dark
object rose in the sea between them and the flare. Another wreck! And
sure enough there lay the dismasted hull of a large ship tossing
helplessly about from side to side, with the waves dashing over her in
spiteful fury. "Let us save the poor fellows," said the lifeboatmen.
The anchor was let go, and the boat veered down to the stern of the
wreck. Then began the tug of war. "What pen can describe the turmoil,
the danger, and the appalling grandeur of the scene, how black as
Erebus, and again illumined by a blaze of lightning? And what pen can do
justice to the stubborn courage that persevered in the work of rescue,
in spite of the difficulties which at each step sprang up?"
The shipwrecked crew were Frenchmen, and all efforts to make them
understand what was wanted of them were in vain. As they crawled along
the deck to the stern of the vessel they presented a most pitiable
sight, and when the lifeboatmen shouted to them to "come on and take our
line," they paid no attention. Suffering and exposure seemed to have
deprived them of their mental faculties. Time after time a line was
thrown to them, but they allowed it to slip back into the sea, without
attempting to lay hold of it. Then the boatmen saw that if these men
were to be rescued, it would be by their own unaided exertions.
How the rescue was to be effected was quite another matter, but there is
never a difficulty which cannot be overcome by persistence and courage.
So thought the lifeboatmen, as their boat was tossed about in that swirl
of angry waters. At one minute she was swept right away from the wreck,
while at another she was driven onwards and lifted upwards by a wave,
till her keel touched the deck of the half-sunk vessel, from which she
withdrew with a horrible grating sound. How she came through the
terrible ordeal of being thrown up on the wreck time after time was a
marvel, and is a splendid proof of the strength of the lifeboat.
All this time the Frenchmen stood at the stern of the ship eager for
deliverance, but unable through fear to take any measures to accomplish
it. Time was precious. Delay might mean death to those on the other
vessel, so one of the lifeboatmen, named Roberts, hit upon a desperate
plan for getting the crew off. Cautiously he crawled forward and took
up his position on the fore air-box of the lifeboat. Now this air-box
has a rounded roof, and therefore the task that Roberts set himself was
one of no little difficulty, and to carry it out successfully required
no ordinary amount of nerve.
Held by the strong arms of his companions he waited till the boat was
carried towards the vessel, then he shouted to the sailors' to "come
on!" At last they understood, and one after another they sprang into
the arms stretched out to save them. Five men were taken off in this
way, and as that seemed to be all that were on board, the anchor was
hoisted in, the sail was set, and the lifeboat made for the other wreck,
which was still showing signals of distress. So convulsive had been the
grip of these five men, that Roberts' arm and chest were black and blue,
and those marks of their desperation and his bravery the gallant boatman
carried about with him for many a day.
It was now four o'clock in the morning, the men were ready to drop from
fatigue, and the boat was seen to be much lower in the water than usual,
even though she had five extra men on board. But "courage mounteth with
occasion," and they forgot their weariness and the danger in the
prospect of saving fellow-creatures from the watery grave which yawned
around them.
At length the wreck was reached, and proved to be that of a Swedish
vessel. The anchor was let go, and the lifeboat veered down as close as
was prudent. Fortunately there was an English pilot on board, who knew
exactly what the lifeboatmen wanted. Under his directions lines were
passed from the wreck, and the crew were speedily taken on board the
boat. The captain had his wife with him, and it was with the utmost
difficulty that she could be persuaded to enter into the lifeboat,
which, owing to the battering it had received at the French wreck, was
almost full of water. The entreaties of her husband and the boatmen at
last prevailed, and she was taken on board. Then the captain followed.
No time was now lost in weighing the anchor and setting sail for home.
Slowly the lifeboat made headway against the storm, as if she was
wearied and fain would rest. Just as the wintry sun glinted across the
sea, the keel grated on the beach at Deal. Out sprang the lifeboatmen
and dragged her into shallow water, with her burden of five Frenchmen
and twelve Swedes, who were heartily welcomed, and taken where warmth
and comfort awaited them.
On examination it was found that there was a hole in the bow of the boat
into which a man could creep, and both her fore and aft air-boxes were
full of water. Had it not been that she had still a good supply of
buoyancy from the air-chambers ranged along the sides, our story would
have had a far from pleasant ending. Though the boatmen had succeeded
in saving seventeen lives, they were sadly disappointed that the ship to
whose assistance they were summoned, had gone down so suddenly. It was
not, however, any fault of theirs, for no time had been wasted in going
to the rescue.