A lifeboat--that is to say, the lifeboat of the present time--differs
from all other boats in four particulars. It is _almost_
indestructible; it is insubmergible; it is self-righting; it is
self-emptying. In other words, it can hardly be destroyed; it cannot be
sunk; it rights itself if upset; it empties itself if filled.
The first of these qualities is due to the unusual strength of the
lifeboat, not only in reference to the excellence of the materials with
which it is made, but also to the manner in which the planks are laid
on. These cross one another in a diagonal manner, which cannot be
easily described or explained to ordinary readers; but it is sufficient
to say that the method has the effect of binding the entire boat
together in a way that renders it much stronger than any other species
of craft. The second quality--that of insubmergibility--is due to
air-chambers fixed round the sides of the boat, under the seats, and at
the bow and stern. These air-cases are sufficiently buoyant to float
the boat even if she were filled to overflowing with water and crowded
to her utmost capacity with human beings. In short, to use an
expression which may appear paradoxical, she can carry more than she can
hold--has floating power sufficient to support more than can be got into
her. The third--her self-righting quality--is also due to air-chambers,
in connection with a heavy keel. There are two large and prominent
air-cases in the lifeboat--one in the bow, the other in the stern.
These rise considerably above the gunwale, insomuch that when the boat
is turned upside-down it rests upon them as upon two pivots. Of course
it cannot remain stationary on them for a moment, but must necessarily
fall over to the one side or the other. This is the first motion in
self-righting; then the heavy keel comes into play, and pulls the boat
quite round. Being full of water, the lifeboat would be comparatively
useless but for its fourth quality--that of self-emptying. This is
accomplished by means of six large holes which run through the floor and
bottom of the boat. The floor referred to is air-tight, and is so
placed that when fully manned and loaded with passengers it is a _very
little above the level of the sea_. On this fact the acting of the
principle depends. Between the floor and the bottom of the boat--a
space of upwards of a foot in depth--there is some light ballast of cork
or of wood, and some parts of the space are left empty. The six holes
above-mentioned are tubes of six inches in diameter, which extend from
the floor through the bottom of the boat. Now, it is one of nature's
laws that water must find its level. For instance, take any boat and
bore large holes in its bottom, and suppose it to be supported in its
_ordinary_ floating position, so that it cannot sink even though water
runs freely into it through the holes. Then fill it suddenly quite full
of water. Of course the water inside will be considerably above the
level of the water outside, but it will continue to run out at the holes
until it is exactly on a level with the water outside. Now, water
poured into a lifeboat acts exactly in the same way; but when it has
reached the level of the water outside _it has also reached the floor_,
so that there is no more water to run out.
Such are the principal qualities of the splendid lifeboat now used on
our coasts, and of which it may be said that it has reached a state of
almost absolute perfection.
The accompanying sections of the lifeboat exhibit the position of the
air-cases and discharging tubes. In Figure 1 the _shaded_ parts give a
side view of the air-cases. The line A A indicates the deck or floor,
which lies a _little_ above the level of the water when the boat is
loaded; B B is the water-tight space containing ballast; C C C are three
of the six discharging holes or tubes; the dotted line D D shows the
level of the sea. Figure 2 gives a bird's-eye view of the boat. The
shaded parts indicate the air-cases; and the position of the six
discharging tubes is more clearly shown than in Figure 1. There are
three covered openings in the floor, which permit of a free circulation
of air when the boat is not in use, and in one of these is a small pump
to clear the ballast-space of leakage. It will be observed that the
boat draws little water; in fact, there is much more of her above than
below water, and she is dependent for stability on her great breadth of
beam and her heavy keel.
These four qualities in the lifeboat are illustrated every year by many
thrilling incidents of wreck and rescue. Let us glance at a few of
these. First, then, as to the _almost_ indestructible quality. Take
the following evidence:--
On a terrible night in the year 1857 a Portuguese brig struck on the
Goodwin Sands, not far from the lightship that marks the northern
extremity of those fatal shoals. A shot was fired, and a rocket sent up
from the lightship as a signal to the men on shore that a vessel had got
upon the sands. No second signal was needed. Anxious eyes had been on
the watch that night. Instantly the Ramsgate men jumped into their
lifeboat, which lay alongside the pier. It was deadly work that had to
be done,--the gale was one of the fiercest of the season,--nevertheless
the gallant men were so eager to get into the boat that it was
overmanned, and the last two who jumped in were obliged to go ashore. A
small but powerful steamer is kept to attend upon this boat. In a few
minutes it took her in tow and made for the mouth of the harbour.
They staggered out right in the teeth of tide and tempest, and ploughed
their way through a heavy cross-sea that swept again and again over
them, until they reached the edge of the Goodwins. Here the steamer
cast off the boat, and waited for her, while she dashed into the surf
and bore the brunt of the battle alone.
With difficulty the brig was found in the darkness. The lifeboat cast
anchor when within about forty fathoms, and veered down under her lee.
At first they were in hopes of getting the vessel off, and hours were
spent in vain endeavours to do this. But the storm increased in fury;
the brig began to break up; she rolled from side to side, and the yards
swung wildly in the air. A blow from one of these yards would have
stove the boat in, so the Portuguese crew--twelve men and a boy--were
taken from the wreck, and the boatmen endeavoured to push off. All this
time the boat had been floating in a basin worked in the sand by the
motion of the wreck; but the tide had been falling, and when they tried
to pull up to their anchor the boat struck heavily on the edge of this
basin. The men worked to get off the shoals as only those can work
whose lives depend on their efforts. They succeeded in getting afloat
for a moment, but again struck and remained fast. Meanwhile the brig
was lifted by each wave and let fall with a thundering crash; her
timbers began to snap like pipe-stems, and as she worked nearer and
nearer, it became evident that destruction was not far off. The heavy
seas caused by the increasing storm flew over the lifeboat, so that
those in her could only hold on to the thwarts for their lives. At last
the brig came so near that there was a stir among the men; they were
preparing for the last struggle--some of them intending to leap into the
rigging of the wreck and take their chance; but the coxswain shouted,
"Stick to the boat, boys! stick to the boat!" and the men obeyed.
At that moment the boat lifted a little on the surf, and grounded again.
New hope was infused by this.
The men pulled at the hawser, and shoved might and main with the oars.
They succeeded in getting out of immediate danger, but still could not
pull up to the anchor in teeth of wind and tide. The coxswain then saw
plainly that there was but one resource left--to cut the cable and drive
right across the Goodwin Sands. But there was not yet sufficient water
on the Sands to float them over; so they held on, intending to ride at
anchor until the tide, which had turned, should rise. Very soon,
however, the anchor began to drag. This compelled them to hoist sail,
cut the cable sooner than they had intended, and attempt to beat off the
Sands. It was in vain. A moment more, and they struck with tremendous
force. A breaker came rolling towards them, filled the boat, caught her
up like a plaything on its crest, and, hurling her a few yards onwards,
let her fall again with a shock that well-nigh tore every man out of
her. Each successive breaker treated her in this way.
Those who dwell by the sea-shore know well the familiar ripples that
mark the sands when the tide is out. On the Goodwins these ripples are
gigantic steps, to be measured by feet, not by inches. From one to
another of these banks this splendid boat was thrown. Each roaring surf
caught it by the bow or stern, and, whirling it right round, sent it
crashing on the next ledge. The Portuguese sailors appeared to give up
all hope, and clung to the thwarts in silent despair; but the crew--
eighteen in number--did not lose heart altogether. They knew their boat
well, had often gone out to battle in her, and hoped that they might yet
be saved if she should only escape striking on the pieces of old wrecks
with which the Sands were strewn.
Thus, literally, yard by yard, with a succession of shocks that would
have knocked any ordinary boat to pieces, did that lifeboat drive during
_two_ hours over _two_ miles of the Goodwin Sands. At last they drove
into deep water; the sails were set; and soon after, through God's
mercy, they landed the rescued crew in safety in Ramsgate Harbour.
What further evidence need we that the lifeboat is almost, if not
altogether, indestructible?
That the lifeboat is insubmergible has been proved to some extent by the
foregoing incident. No better instance could be adduced to prove the
buoyancy of the life boat than that of the Tynemouth boat, named the
Constance, at the wreck of the _Stanley_, in the year 1864. In this
case, while the boat was nearing the wreck, a billow broke over the bow
of the _Stanley_, and falling into the Constance, absolutely overwhelmed
her. Referring to this, the coxswain of the lifeboat says: "The sea
fell over the bows of the Stanley and buried the lifeboat. Every oar
was broken at the gunwale of the boat, and the outer ends swept away.
The men made a grasp for the spare oars; three were gone--two only
remained." Now, it is to be observed that the coxswain here speaks of
the boat as being _buried, sunk_ by the waves, and _immediately_, as he
says, "the men made a grasp for the spare oars." The sinking and
leaping to the surface seem to have been the work almost of the same
moment. And this is indeed the case; for when the force that sinks a
lifeboat is removed, she rises that instant to the surface like a cork.
In order to prove the value of the self-righting quality, and the
superiority of those lifeboats which possess it over those which are
destitute of it, we will briefly cite three cases--the last of which
will also prove the value of the self-emptying quality.
On the 4th of January 1857, the Point of Ayr lifeboat, when under sail
in a gale, upset at a distance from land. The accident was seen from
the shore; but no help could be rendered, and the whole boat's crew--
thirteen in number--were drowned. Now, this was deemed a good lifeboat,
but it was not a self-righting one; and two of her crew were seen
clinging to the keel for twenty minutes, by which time they became
exhausted and were washed off.
Take another case of a non-self-righting boat. In February 1858 the
Southwold lifeboat, a large sailing-boat, and esteemed one of the finest
in the kingdom, went out at the quarterly period of exercise in rough
weather, and was running before a heavy sea with all sail set when she
suddenly ran on the top of a wave, broached to, and upset. The crew in
this case were fortunately near the land, had on their cork belts, and
were dragged ashore, though with difficulty; but three amateurs, who
were without belts, perished.
These two cases occurred in the day-time.
The third case happened at night--on a very dark stormy night in October
1858. A wreck had been seen about three miles off Dungeness, and the
lifeboat at that place--a small self-righting and self-emptying one
belonging to the Royal National Lifeboat Institution--put off, with
eight stout men of the coast-guard for a crew. On reaching the wreck,
soon after midnight, it was found that the crew had deserted her; the
lifeboat therefore returned towards the shore. On nearing it she got
into a channel between two shoals, where she was caught up and struck by
three heavy seas in succession. The coxswain lost command of the
rudder; she was carried away before the sea, broached to, and upset,
throwing her crew out of her. Immediately she righted herself, cleared
herself of water, and the anchor, having fallen out, brought her up.
The crew, meanwhile, having on cork belts, floated, regained the boat,
clambered into it by means of the life-lines hung round her sides, cut
the cable, and returned to shore in safety.
So much for the nature and capabilities of our lifeboats. We cannot
afford space to say more in regard to them than that they are the means,
under God, of saving many hundreds of human lives every year on the
coasts of the United Kingdom, besides a large amount of shipping and
property, which, but for them, would inevitably be lost. The noble
Institution which manages them was founded in 1824, and is supported
entirely by voluntary contributions.
Along with the lifeboat we may appropriately describe here another
species of vessel, which, if it does not directly rescue lives, at all
events prevents disaster by giving timely warning of danger. We refer
to:--