THE WRECK OF THE "NORTHERN BELLE."
During a dreadful storm which swept over the British Isles several years
ago, the American ship _Northern Belle_, from New York to London, came
to anchor off Kingsgate, near Broadstairs, about a mile from the shore.
The sea made great breaches over her, and, in order to lighten the
vessel and help her to ride out the storm, the crew cut away two of the
masts. With the flood-tide, however, the gale increased, and it was
feared that the vessel would drag her anchors and come ashore. A
swift-footed messenger was accordingly despatched to summon the
Broadstairs lifeboat.
Without delay the crew were mustered, and the boat, on her carriage, was
dragged overland to Kingsgate, a distance of two miles. It was nine
o'clock when the _Mary White_ arrived, and by that time the cliffs were
lined with crowds of people. Shortly afterwards two luggers were seen
bearing down upon the unfortunate vessel. One of these crafts, when
trying to take out one of the ship's anchors, was overwhelmed by a heavy
sea, and sank. Not one of her crew of nine men were ever seen again.
The other was more successful, and five of her crew managed to get on
board the _Northern Belle_. Every moment the multitude of spectators
expected to see the vessel run ashore and be dashed to pieces on the
rocks at the foot of the cliff; but as the day wore on and the anchors
still held, it was thought that she would yet be safe. Heedless of the
heavy snow and bitter cold, the people watched her till darkness came on
and shut out the vessel from their gaze.
[Illustration: THEY BENT THEIR BACKS TO THE OARS.]
About midnight, the long-expected catastrophe took place, the cable
broke and the vessel was driven on the rocks. In the storm and darkness
it would have been worse than useless to launch the lifeboat, so the men
were reluctantly compelled to put off the rescue till a new day should
give them sufficient light to see what they were doing. Next morning,
about seven o'clock, the remains of the ill-fated ship could be seen,
and lashed to the only remaining mast were the figures of twenty-three
perishing sailors. What they must have suffered in the cold and
darkness of that terrible night may be imagined, but it cannot be
described.
The lifeboat was dragged down to the water's edge, and the crew got into
their places. The coxswain stood up in the stern, grasping the yoke
lines, and watching for a favourable moment to put off. The faces of
the men were grave, for they knew the terrific struggle that was before
them, and, with such a high sea running, who knew if they would come
back again? The coxswain gave the word, and the boat was pushed off
into the raging surf. The boatmen bent their backs and made headway in
spite of the storm. Over and over again they were lost to sight, and
those on shore were filled with fear for their safety, but the good boat
breasted each wave gallantly, and quickly drew near to the wreck.
Great difficulty was experienced in getting alongside, and in the
struggle the bow of the lifeboat was badly damaged, but at last the boat
was made fast. The poor sailors were so benumbed by their long exposure
to cold that they were almost helpless, and this made the task of the
boatmen still more difficult. At length, after tremendous exertions,
they succeeded in taking off seven of the crew. On account of the
broken condition of the boat and the high sea, it was not judged prudent
to take more, so she was cut adrift from the wreck and returned to the
shore with her precious burden.
Fearing that an accident might happen to the _Mary White_ and disable
her for further service, a second lifeboat had been brought over from
Broadstairs. She was now launched, and made for the wreck, from which
she shortly afterwards returned with fourteen men. Only two sailors now
remained on board, the aged captain and the pilot. The former
stubbornly refused to leave his ship, declaring that he would rather be
drowned; and the latter said that he was not going to leave the old man
to perish by himself.
The coxswain allowed two hours to pass, expecting that the captain would
change his mind and signal for them to come and take him off; but when
he showed no signs of yielding, he called the men together and launched
the lifeboat. After a stiff pull they reached the wreck, and tried to
persuade the captain to save himself, but he remained obstinate. Then
the men declared that they would remain by the wreck as long as she held
together, even if they waited a week. The coxswain pointed out to the
captain that he was not only throwing his own life away for no good
reason, but that he was also endangering the lives of those in the boat,
and he told him that it was his duty to save himself. At length he was
persuaded of the folly of his action, and came down from the rigging.
The pilot, whose chivalrous feelings alone had kept him in this perilous
position, also gladly entered the saving boat.
Great were the rejoicings on the beach when it became known that the
whole crew had now been rescued. The shipwrecked men were taken to a
house near at hand, but they were so exhausted that they were unable to
eat.
Shortly afterwards three horses were harnessed to the transporting
carriage of the _Mary White_, and she was taken back to Broadstairs. As
she approached the town, the people came out to meet her, and with
cheers loud and long welcomed the heroes home.
An eye-witness of the rescue says: "The lifeboatmen were not labouring
under any species of excitement when they engaged in the perilous duty,
which they performed so nobly and so well. Under the impression that
these men would never return,--the impression of all who witnessed their
departure from the shore,--I watched their countenances closely. There
was nothing approaching bravado in their looks, nothing to give a
spectator any idea that they were about to engage in a matter of life or
death, to themselves and the crew of the ship clinging to the
fore-rigging of the _Northern Belle_. They had no hope of a decoration
or of a pecuniary reward when, with a coolness of manner and a calmness
of mind which contrasted strongly with the energy of their movements,
they bounded into the lifeboat to storm batteries of billows far more
appalling to the human mind than batteries surmounted by cannon and
bristling with bayonets. There could be no question about the heroism
of these men."