Two persons were watching the storm and the progress of the solitary
boat over the foaming water, from one of the windows of the old tower.
Both, as they watched, were praying that He who rules the wind would
protect the husband and the father, and those with him, from the dangers
to which they were exposed. Mrs Askew looked through the telescope at
the boat, a mere speck in the troubled ocean, till her eyes grew dim and
her heart sank with anxiety, and she was compelled to relinquish her
post to Margery.
The dismasted ship was some way to the south-west.
"The boat goes on bravely!" cried Margery.
"Now she is on the top of a wave--now she sinks into the trough--she is
rising again though--yes, yes, there she is! But the ship--they will
grieve to be too late; yet she is driving fearfully near those dark
rocks! and I heard papa say that not a human being would escape from the
ship that once strikes them."
"Heaven have mercy on them!" ejaculated Mrs Askew. "How many have
mothers and sisters, or wives and daughters expecting them at home--poor
people, poor people!"
"But perhaps the wind will change, and the ship may be driven along the
coast and into the bay, and they may yet be saved!" exclaimed Margery,
who was naturally more sanguine than her mother.
"I fear that there is no likelihood of that," said Mrs Askew. "See!
the boat is still a long way off, and she makes but slow progress--while
the ship is driven on to destruction with even greater speed than at
first."
That the above remarks may be clearly understood, it should be mentioned
that the ship was a considerable way to the west of Stormount Bay, and
that she was driving almost directly on the coast, so that the boat,
after pulling out some way to sea to get clear of the cape, had to steer
almost parallel with the coast to cut off the ship, their courses being
almost at right angles to each other. All the time, though they looked
occasionally towards the ship, the eyes of either the mother or daughter
were scarcely for a moment off the boat--difficult as it was to keep her
in view. Often they gasped for breath, and their hearts sank within
them, when she was concealed by the foaming waves; and more than once
they could with difficulty refrain from crying out with agony of spirit
as she remained longer than before hidden from view. Still, there she
was; but as yet she had encountered only a portion of the dangers she
had to go through; the greatest was in getting alongside the ship, and
next to that was the return through the breakers which were dashing on
the shore.
The brave men on board might venture on yet greater danger, should the
ship strike, in attempting to go close to the wreck. Both Mrs Askew
and Margery knew enough of the state of the case to be aware of this,
for there was no lee side on which the boat could approach; and yet they
knew that if the captain saw the faintest possibility of saving the
lives of any of his fellow-creatures, he would make the attempt.
"I can still see the boat, mother--I can still see the boat!" cried
Margery, when Mrs Askew, pale and trembling, had resigned the telescope
to her daughter, unable longer to discern the boat, and tinder the
belief that it had been overwhelmed by the seas. "She floats--she
floats; but she is still a long way from the ship!"
"The ship! where is she?" exclaimed Mrs Askew. "I do not see her."
Both, without the glass, looked out in the direction where the big ship
had just before been seen floating.
"Oh! mother, the ship is not there!" cried Margery.
"Gone! gone! is it so?" exclaimed Mrs Askew; "The Lord have mercy on
those now struggling out there for their lives amid the raging waves!"
The ship had indeed gone down; and it seemed impossible that any but the
strongest swimmers could keep afloat till the boat should reach the
spot. Still they watched for an occasional glimpse of her, for they
were certain that the captain would not return till he had been
compelled to abandon all hope of saving life. Since he had gone out the
rain had cleared off, but at the moment the ship disappeared a thick
driving rain came sweeping on over the ocean, soon shutting out the boat
from view. In vain the lady and her daughter waited till the veil of
mist should clear off; and at length their anxiety became too great for
endurance. They thought that Tom would come in to relieve this
impatience, but he did not appear.
"Come, dearest, come! we must go down to the beach," said Mrs Askew,
taking Margery's hand.
Their cloaks and hats were soon put on, and together they hastened down
to the shore, where they saw a group of men, with Tom in the midst. In
spite of the rain driving in their faces, they pressed on. The men were
eagerly looking out over the sea. Some held coils of rope in their
hands, others long poles, while Tom had fastened a number of cork
net-floats together to form a life-buoy. They drew aside as they saw
the lady and her daughter.
"No fear, marm!" exclaimed Tom, when he observed their alarmed looks.
"We doesn't think anything has happened to the captain, do you see, but
it's just as well to be ready for whatever does happen, and there's no
saying what that may be."
So poor Mrs Askew and Margery thought; and they were thankful that
their friends were making such preparations, as seemed to them, for the
worst. Indeed, they might well do so. The huge billows came rolling in
towards the shore, breaking with a loud roar on the beach into masses of
foam, and then rolling back again, looking as if it must sweep off
everything it might encounter. Mrs Askew found that some parties of
men had gone along the coast to the eastward with ropes, on the
possibility of some of the wreck driving on shore in that direction, for
they were not aware that the ship had gone down, the mist having come on
almost at the moment of the catastrophe. Some of them shook their heads
behind the lady's back when they heard of it. The captain would be
tempted to go looking about round the spot till darkness should come on,
and then the return on shore would be doubly hazardous. One thing was
certain, that he would select the spot where they were for running in
the boat, as it was the only one for miles along the coast affording the
slightest chance of safety. This was owing to its being sheltered by
the cape from the south-west, a small bay being formed within the bay.
Still the sea rolled in even there with great force, and the landing was
an undertaking of great difficulty and risk. Mrs Askew heard the men
say that in one respect the boat would gain by the delay, as the tide
was on the point of turning, and would set up Channel with the wind,
thus enabling her to return more speedily, while the sea might not
possibly break so much as it had hitherto been doing. Tom wanted Mrs
Askew and Margery to return to the tower; but, though the rain pelted
down, and the wind blew against them so that they could scarcely stand,
they persisted in awaiting the expected return of the boat.
Now the mist cleared off a little; they peered anxiously out, but no
boat was to be seen. Now it settled down thicker than ever, and all
they could see was billow after billow crested with foam come rolling
in, and breaking with loud roars on the beach, making the very ground
beneath their feet tremble. They stood with their hands clasped
together, Margery partly sheltered by her mother's cloak. As they could
see but a short distance, they listened the more attentively, in the
hope of hearing some sound which might give them notice of the approach
of the boat. At length Margery started, and bent forward; either her
quick ears had distinguished a shout amid the roar of the waters, or she
fancied that she heard one. She waited for some time. "Oh! yes,
mother, it is--it is! I hear a voice--it is papa's! He is shouting!
He is telling the men to do something! I know it is him!" exclaimed
Margery, darting forward. Was it the little girl's fancy, or not?
Surely not her fancy, though no one else heard the voice.
Suddenly the mist again for an instant cleared away, and revealed the
boat on the summit of a billow, close in with the shore. Now is the
time for the men on the beach to exert themselves if they will save the
lives of their friends, though the risk of losing their own is very
great. The strongest secure the ropes round their waists, and prepare
to rush into the sea that they may seize the boat as she touches the
beach, before the sea can draw her back again or those in her.
On comes the boat--the captain steers her with consummate skill; the
brave crew exert themselves to the utmost, yet with difficulty can they
prevent her from being turned broadside to sea, and rolled over on the
beach. Those who are watching hold their breath with anxiety. Margery
and her mother stand trembling. Tom can do but little except hold on to
the end of one of the ropes. The boat draws nearer--then down she
comes. The sea follows, ready to sweep all out of the boat, as if
disappointed of its prey; but those on shore each grasp a man. Tom
seizes his master with his hook, and drags him up the beach. Others
attend to the boat. She is quickly hauled up, and all are safe.
Margery and her mother were soon in the captain's arms: they were
recompensed for all they had suffered by seeing him safe. But where
were those they had gone out to rescue? Were none preserved? Yes! one
person had been discovered alone, of the numbers who had been on board
the ship--a black boy, but he could speak but a few words of English,
and could give no account of the ship.
The captain, with his wife and daughter, and Tom leading the young
stranger, now hurried up towards the tower. The captain stopped,
however, for a moment before he went. "Thank ye, lads, for what you've
done!" he said; "it was your best, and you could do no more; and one
life saved is better than none. As soon as you've shaken yourselves
dry, come up to the tower, and such fare as I can offer you I'll give it
gladly."
"Thank ye, sir, thank ye!" answered the crew of the boat, "we'll come by
and by, if it's only to drink yours and the missus's health."
Before entering the tower, the captain gave a glance over the ocean.
The mist had again cleared off completely, and his keen eye discovered
far out a small object--what it was he could not determine. He pointed
it out to his daughter. Throwing off her wet cloak, she hurried to the
telescope, that she might ascertain what the object was. She looked
eagerly, as it was, probably, she thought, a part of the wreck. After
watching it a short time, it became evident to her that it was being
drifted by the tide and wind towards the shore. She called her father,
who by this time had put on his dry clothes. He asked her to point out
the spot where she had first seen it. "Yes--yes, it may possibly drift
into the bay!" he exclaimed; "but it will be midnight before it can
reach the shore. I must go out, however, and set men to watch, for it
is large enough to support a dozen or more people, though it is scarcely
possible that they should have clung on in that heavy sea out there."
Once more the Captain and Tom, habited in their foul-weather clothes,
repaired to the beach. Darkness was coming on, and the object they were
in search of was only for an instant at a time visible as it rose to the
foaming summit of a wave. It however remained long enough in sight to
enable them to point it out to the men at the huts, several of whom
agreed to remain with the captain and Tom on the shore, with ropes, to
assist any one by chance clinging to the piece of wreck.
Again Mrs Askew and Margery were left in a state of anxiety, for they
knew the danger that must be run in the attempt to draw a person out of
such a raging sea. Margery insisted on running down to take her father
some food--for he had had none since dinner--and, of course, Becky
offered to go, but at that moment Blind Peter came to the door, and he
undertook to convey some supper for the captain and Tom; and the black
boy, seeming to comprehend the matter, begged by signs to be allowed to
accompany him, and to carry the baskets. To Blind Peter day and night
were the same, and with every inch of the ground he was well acquainted,
so that he had no difficulty in finding the captain and his companions--
guided to them by the sound of their voices. Blind Peter was
recompensed for his want of sight by the most acute sense of hearing.
Accustomed also to be out in all weathers, he cared nothing for the
pelting of the storm, or for the clouds of spray which beat over those
who stood on the beach, and expressed his intention of remaining till
the piece of wreck should reach the shore.
"Then you must share with us the provender you have brought, friend
Peter," said the captain, taking a seat on some rocks rather more out of
the reach of the spray than where they had been standing. Some lighted
their pipes, and others produced bottles of spirits from their pockets,
and, being all of them well clothed to resist the weather, they made
themselves as comfortable as circumstances would allow. Occasionally,
one or two got up and ran along the beach, to try to ascertain if the
wreck could be seen. Suddenly, Blind Peter started up, exclaiming, "I
hear something floating on the water! There is a voice, too, faint,
calling for help."
The captain, and Tom, and the other men, with their ropes, hurried after
Peter along the beach. He stopped, pointing over the sea. The moon,
which had hitherto been obscured, at that moment broke forth from behind
a cloud, and revealed a small raft floating among the breakers. Again
the moon was hidden by the cloud, and then once more it appeared, and
this time the raft was seen more distinctly, and on it appeared a human
form, grasping the planks firmly with one hand as he lay along then he
waved the other to show that he was alive. No sooner was he seen than
the agitation of the young black became very great; and taking the end
of a rope from one of the men, he fastened it round his own body, and
intimated that he would swim off with it to the raft. There was no time
to be lost, for any moment the lad--for lad he evidently was--might be
swept off by the breakers, or the raft might be thrown violently on the
shore, and he crushed beneath it. The captain and Tom also fastened
ropes round their waists, as sailors well know how to do, and rushed
into the surf to help the brave black boy. The raft came on towards
them; the black boy sprang on it, and seized the lad, who seemed at that
moment to have lost all consciousness. An instant longer, and he would
have been swept away. The receding waters rushed back with the raft.
The black boy, though an excellent swimmer, could scarcely support his
friend as those on shore hauled him in, when the captain and Tom rushed
to his aid. The captain stuck his timber-toe in the sand, Tom caught
the stranger's jacket with his iron hook, and all three brought him at
length safely up the beach out of the reach of the surf, which came
hissing after them as if angry at the loss of its prey.
"Now, lads, carry him up among you to the tower; a warm bed and some hot
grog is what the lad now wants!" cried the captain, who possibly felt
that it was high time for himself to get to a warm bed, for he was not
so strong as he had been, and he had gone through great exertions.
It was too evident, that if the raft had had more occupants, the lad was
the only survivor. The light of the moon, as it shone on him as the
seamen bore him up to the tower, showed that he was dressed in a sea
officer's uniform jacket, such as is worn by midshipmen--to which rank,
from his youth, it seemed probable that he belonged. Tom had hurried on
before, so that when the party arrived, Mrs Askew, Margery, and Becky,
were busily preparing and warming Jack's bed for the young stranger.
The warmth and rubbing soon brought him to consciousness; but Mrs
Askew, observing his exhausted condition, would not let him speak to
give any account of himself until he had had some sleep, without which
it was evident that food would do him but little good. The captain
pretended to be very indignant at being popped into bed as soon as he
got home, "like a little boy who had tumbled into the water," he said;
but he was not sorry to drink a glass of hot grog which Margery brought
him, after which he fell fast asleep.
Mrs Askew watched by the side of the young sailor lad, who now also
slept soundly. She thought of her own dear boy, who might have been as
this lad was--washed ashore on some strange land; and as she would have
wished him to have been treated, so she desired to treat the young
stranger. He was older than Jack would now be--stouter and fairer--not
like him, indeed, except in possessing an honest and innocent
countenance. She did not for a moment suppose that he was her own boy
come back to her, and yet, as she watched him, her heart strings began
strangely to coil round him, and she felt that he could never be a
stranger to her. She was sure that he would be worthy of her regard--
judging by the expression of his countenance--this opinion being
strengthened by hearing of the affection shown to him by the young
negro. She sat up with some food ready to give him when he should
awake, and it was not till daybreak, after he had taken it, that she
would allow Becky to take her place. When she opened the door she found
the black boy coiled up close to it, on a rug. He had left the snug bed
provided for him that he might be near the lad, to whom he was evidently
attached.
Margery was the first of the family on foot; she longed to hear more
about the young stranger, but he was still asleep, and there was no one
else to tell her--the black boy was about, but he could not exchange
many words with her--so, to employ the time, they looked through the
telescope to ascertain if any more pieces of the wreck were floating
about near the shore, but nothing was to be seen. The wind had
considerably abated, and the sun was shining brightly on the sparkling
waves; though she could not forget that they danced over the graves of
so many of her fellow-creatures who that time the day before were full
of life and strength, and that probably the only survivors were the
black boy and the young lad, now sleeping safely in the tower, who had
been on the last night washed ashore.