CAST ASHORE.
Benny understood the command given by Keeper Downey, but could not
make up his mind as to how it might be obeyed. It seemed to him in the
highest degree important that he keep to work with the oar, and yet he
could not lay hold of a life-preserver without dropping it.
After having thus attended to the boy’s safety so far as was possible,
the keeper turned all his attention to the work of so steering the
life-boat that she would strike the shore at the least dangerous point.
The huge lighter, on which could be seen indistinctly the forms of the
four men, was being driven rapidly toward the stranded steamer, and it
was not necessary one should have much experience in such matters to
understand that if she struck the wreck there was little hope the four
men could gain the shore alive.
If the crew had been on the cliff with the beach-apparatus, watching
others being swept down the coast in such fashion, it would not have
appeared to be a particularly dangerous position, because a line could
be fired across the wreck, or the surf-boat pulled to wheresoever the
lighter might come to grief.
Now, however, there was no one on shore to lend assistance, and, as a
matter of fact, every member of the crew was in extreme peril.
Benny watched his helpless comrades as he pulled at the oar while
awaiting the opportunity to lay hold of a life-preserver, and,
observing that he was not yet prepared for what lay before them,
Robbins asked sharply:
“Didn’t you hear what the keeper said?”
“Yes, sir; but I can’t reach one of the jackets without dropping my
oar.”
“Let it go, then! None of us are doing very much good now while the
wind has such a firm grip on us, and your strength won’t be missed.
This is the time when you must have your wits well about you, lad, and
it’s no easy matter to keep a clear head while floundering in the surf.”
“Is it certain we’ll all be thrown out?” Benny asked as he took up one
of the jackets and began adjusting it.
“There’s no help for it. If we’re lucky, it may be possible to get
the surf-boat afloat before that lumberin’ lighter strikes; but I’m
doubtful as to our succeeding. In all my experience on this coast I
never before saw the life savers so completely knocked out as they
appear to be now.”
The four men on the unwieldy craft could be seen making such provisions
for their own safety as was possible under the circumstances. Just
abaft of where the windlass had stood was a narrow hatchway leading
to the shallow hold, and around the combing of this they ran a short
length of rope to form a life-line. It was a poor makeshift, but one on
which might depend the lives of four men.
In a single hurried glance Benny saw that Sam Hardy was stripping off
the greater portion of his clothing preparatory to the battle with the
surf, and that the others were peering ahead in the gloom as if trying
to decide at which point the lighter would take the land.
Meanwhile the life-boat had been racing toward the shore with
marvellous rapidity, flung forward by both wind and wave, and those
on board had no more than time in which to get a general view of the
surroundings before she was being tossed to and fro in the broken water
which extended a hundred yards or more from the coast-line.
“Stand ready, boys!” Tom Downey shouted, still doing his utmost to
guide the light craft by means of the steering-oar. “Leap clear if she
turns over! Robbins, have a care of Benny; but don’t try to do more
than keep his head above water till some of us can give you a lift!”
“Take hold of the back of my coat,” the surfman said to the lad an
instant after these orders had been given. “After I have jumped, do
your best to keep on my shoulders, and, above all, don’t lose your
courage. Surely we, whose business it is to save life in the surf,
should be able to go through yonder broken water alive.”
“Don’t pay any attention to me, Mr. Robbins,” Benny replied, trying his
best, and almost successfully, to speak in a firm tone. “You can save
yourself, and it ain’t fair to be bothered with me.”
There was no time in which to say anything more. Already was the
life-boat rising on the crest of a gigantic wave which promised to drop
her on the shoal twenty yards or more to seaward of low-water mark, and
all knew that the supreme moment had come.
Not until this instant did Tom Downey relinquish the steering-oar,
and the others, including Benny, mentally braced themselves for the
struggle which was close at hand.
Had the men been in the lighter surf-boat, the wave might have carried
them beyond reach of danger; but the larger craft struck the bottom
some distance from the shore, and it seemed to Benny as if the stern
was flung directly over the bow.
The upheaving of the boat threw him far out over the water before he
had time to leap, and ere Robbins had taken hold of him.
“Don’t lose your courage!”
These words which Robbins had spoken were ringing in the lad’s ears as
he was plunged head foremost into the boiling waters, and he strove
rather to keep his wits about him than to strike out for the shore.
He was conscious of coming in contact with the bottom, and then, as
he rose to the surface, of being drawn back forcibly by the undertow,
after which he threw his arms above his head lest he should be dashed
against a rock.
It seemed as if he was whirled to and fro violently, then flung
inshore, only to be dragged back again, and after that came a
bewildering, sickening sensation, until it seemed as if some heavy
object was pressing directly above him.
Involuntarily he clutched at it, and found a rope in his grasp.
An instant of confusion, and then he realized that he was floating by
the side of the life-boat.
The craft had righted itself after being up-ended, for, unless serious
damage had been done her hull, she would always swim in proper fashion,
and it so chanced the waves had carried her directly over the lad who,
by remaining passive in the surf, had done exactly that which was best
calculated to insure his safety.
“I won’t lose my courage!” Benny said stoutly, and his own words served
to animate him.
He hauled on the rope until finding that it was made fast inside the
craft, when, by exerting all his strength, it was possible to clamber
inboard, although by so doing the boat was filled to the gunwales with
water.
“With this jacket on, and in a life-boat, I can’t sink, and the only
fear is that I’ll be thrown against the rocks, the same as a life saver
whom Mr. Hardy knew,” Benny said to himself.
Then, clutching the thwart, the lad looked around him with the idea
that he might be able to render assistance to those of his companions
who had not succeeded in gaining a place of safety.
On the waves near at hand he could see nothing; but ashore was a small
group of men gazing toward him.
“Stand by for a line!” he heard Mr. Downey shout, and then all fear for
himself fled as he thought of those on the lighter.
“I am all right!” he cried at the full strength of his lungs. “I’ll
hold on here while you launch the surf-boat.”
He did not wait to hear the reply, but looked hurriedly around for the
lighter, and his breath came quick and fast as he saw the huge craft
almost upon him.
The wind was driving her down on a line with the stranded steamer, and
the life-boat, in her lee and sheltered from the gale, was being swept
by the undertow in the opposite direction.
Now he understood that there were other dangers than those of being
dashed against the rocks, and for an instant it seemed certain the end
had come.
He saw a human figure standing near the edge of the huge craft, and to
him he shouted wildly:
“Can’t you throw me a line?”
There was no time for a reply. Benny had hardly more than cried out
before the small boat was grating against the side of the hulk, and at
the same instant he who had been peering over the side leaped down.
The impetus given by the man’s body flung the life-boat to one side,
and in the merest fraction of time she was astern of the dangerous
fabric which swept onward, leaving a wake behind like that of a steamer.
“Is it you, No. 8?” a familiar voice cried, and Benny shouted in relief
and pleasure, for he knew Sam Hardy was with him once more.
“Where are the others?” he panted as Sam floundered to his side.
“Still on board the lighter; but I’m not allowin’ there’s any great
danger for ’em. It begins to look as if the clumsy hulk would clear
the stranded steamer, in which case they have only to hold on till the
surf-boat can be launched. Seein’ the life-boat, I took the chances
of jumpin’ so she wouldn’t be swept out to sea, for it would be queer
readin’ if the Superintendent got a letter telling that we’d lost a
craft like her. How did you happen to be here alone?”
In the fewest possible words Benny explained what had happened, and
asked:
“How are we goin’ to get ashore, Mr. Hardy?”
“That ain’t troublin’ me so much just now as is the question of how
we’re goin’ to keep her from bein’ driven back against the cliff. So
far as I could see, all hands except you, got ashore without any very
great trouble, an’ they’ll soon have the surf-boat over here. What we
must do is to keep off the rocks, an’ that’ll be a reasonably hard job
with such a cargo of water as we’ve got aboard.”
“I can bail her.”
“As well try to dip up the ocean, for every wave is sweepin’ over us
here in this broken water. We’re all right for a spell, an’ there’s
nothin’ to prevent our watchin’ the others.”
Benny would have made an attempt to do whatever Sam Hardy might have
suggested, however wild or impossible, and now did his best at peering
through the gloom toward that dark mass which he knew was the lighter.
He could distinguish nothing on the shore; but the surfman, having had
more experience, declared that he could see quite plainly the forms of
their comrades.
“They don’t dare spend the time to go after the surf-boat, but will
trust to what they can do with ropes from the shore. The wreckers have
left enough gear behind to furnish each man with a life-line, and since
there’s no longer any danger the lighter will strike the steamer, it
won’t be a hard job to bring every fellow ashore. I’m still wonderin’
what made me jump when I saw the boat, Benny. It was a fool trick,
after yonder hulk had taken such a turn as showed she’d strike a sandy
bottom.”
“It was mighty lucky for me that you did come, sir.”
“Why, lad? I can’t do the first thing toward helpin’ us out of this
plight, except by usin’ the steerin’-oar when we’re nearer in shore,
an’ you may as well have been alone.”
“I’d have been terribly frightened; but now everything is all right.”
Sam gathered the boy in his arms for an instant, but made no reply, and
during those few seconds it seemed as if the two were nearer in spirit
than they had ever been before.
“She’s struck!” the surfman cried at length, referring to the lighter,
and Benny saw a huge cloud of spray rise in the air as if against the
base of a cliff.
“When we first went adrift, Joe Cushing figgered that the danger of
bein’ washed away wouldn’t be very great, provided she went clear of
the steamer, for the deck is so broad, and her depth so great, that the
waves won’t make a clean breach over her. In their places, I’d take the
chances of stayin’ there till the tide falls, rather than trust to a
hand-rope through the surf.”
Sam continued to gaze first at the huge hulk and then at the shore,
regardless of his own danger, until Benny recalled him to the fact that
the life-boat was being driven directly toward a cliff of brown rocks a
quarter of a mile beyond where the life savers ashore were stationed.
“Hold on where you are till I give the word,” Sam cried as he unshipped
one of the spare oars from its beckets and swung it out over the stern.
“I’m not certain one man can do much more than hold this boat before
the wind, and if we find that she ain’t to be turned from her course,
we’ll try the surf again.”
“Can’t I help you?”
“Not a bit, lad, except by sittin’ still an’ obeyin’ orders. Don’t be
frightened, for----”
“There’s nothing to scare me now you’re here,” Benny replied with
sublime confidence, and the surfman muttered a few words under his
breath, the purport of which Benny failed to hear.
From this moment the two in the boat ceased to pay any attention
to their comrades either on shore or aboard the lighter; their own
situation demanded every thought, and while Sam Hardy would not have
admitted as much to his companion, he was seriously concerned regarding
the possibility of warding off the threatening danger.
Freighted with water as the life-boat was, she sailed sluggishly before
the blast, with not sufficient headway to prevent the waves from
breaking over her continuously, and it was necessary her crew should
exercise every care to prevent themselves from being washed overboard.
There was no deviation from the course, however; straight toward that
frowning cliff the wind and waves forced her, and the surfman knew full
well, although he refrained from giving words to the fact, that it was
not in the power of man to aid them if they struck the rocks, where the
waves would beat them to and fro until life was crushed out.
“We must take to the water, Benny,” Sam Hardy said at length, doing his
best to speak in a cheery tone. “It ain’t an overly pleasant idee; but
goes ’way ahead of stayin’ aboard till we can’t help ourselves. Can you
swim any?”
“A little in smooth water.”
“You’ve got a cork jacket on?”
“Yes, sir, and it kept me up in great shape before, so you needn’t
bother about me, for I sha’n’t drown so long as I keep my courage.”
“I ain’t afraid but you’ll contrive to do that last. Now listen: we’re
goin’ to take to the water mighty soon; I’ll go over, an’ you’re to
follow close behind. Once we’re afloat, keep a firm hold of my shirt
collar from behind, an’ see to it your grip is not loosened.”
“Please don’t try to drag me, Mr. Hardy. It’s certain you’ll come out
all right alone, an’ I’m afraid----”
“Benny, I’d sooner never go ashore than get there without you,” Sam
replied, speaking very gravely; “so we won’t make any talk about that
part of it. Do as I’ve said, an’ we’ll both be back at the station
to-morrow mornin’, or neither of us shows up there again. Are you
ready?”
“Whenever you say the word, sir,” Benny replied stoutly, although it
seemed as if his heart was in his throat.
“I hate to leave the life-boat, but the Government can easier buy a new
one than I can get another lease of life, so here goes. Stand close by
my side, No. 8, an’ jump with me.”
The boy obeyed promptly, although the strongest man might well have
been excused for hesitating at such a leap.
[Illustration]
The water did not run in waves at this point, but swirled and foamed
over the rocks beneath in eddying circles which threatened to suck down
everything within reach until it was like a seething mass of boiling
yeast.
“There’s depth enough to prevent us from coming to harm against the
bottom,” Sam said reassuringly, “and we’ve only to swim a quarter of
a mile before gaining a good landing-place, even if Tom Downey don’t
send some one to help us. All ready, lad! Keep your wits about you, an’
leave the rest with me.”
Then Sam flung his arm around the boy’s waist, pressing the lad close
to him as he leaped.
Down, down, until it seemed to Benny as if they would never reach the
bottom, and then came the up-rising, followed by the blessed relief of
being able to breathe once more.
It had not been the lad’s purpose to follow Sam Hardy’s instructions to
the letter.
He had not intended to allow himself to be dragged through the waves
at risk of weighting down his comrade, but proposed to strike out for
himself; and the surfman must have feared some such intention, for,
fastening his teeth in the sleeve of Benny’s shirt, he held on as a dog
might have done.
The boy understood that Hardy could swim more easily if he held himself
up by clutching the latter’s shirt collar, and as soon as he did this
the surfman released his hold.
So low on the surface of the water were the two, it was impossible to
gain any idea of where the life savers or the hulk might be.
They were alone amid those angry, seething waters, and it was not
reasonable to suppose their comrades could see them.
Had he been dependent upon his own exertions, Benny must speedily have
succumbed to the violent buffeting of the waves; but Sam Hardy shielded
the lad whenever it was possible, in addition to dragging him past the
frowning rocks, and finally, after it seemed to the lad as if half
the night had been spent, they had arrived at a cove which offered a
comparatively safe landing-place.
“Stand up as soon as your feet touch bottom, and run for dear life,”
Hardy said, speaking for the first time since they had flung themselves
into the waves, and the words were no more than uttered when Benny was
able to obey.
Hand in hand the two fled from the raging waters, only to be overtaken
and hurled back at the very moment when it seemed as if a place of
safety had been gained, and then came another wearying, disheartening
conflict with the waves, during which Benny nearly lost his courage.
Once more it was possible to gain a foothold; once more they raced with
death, and this time the venture was successful. The two gained the
pebbly shore above the water-line, so sorely beaten and fatigued that
speech or movement was impossible until after a rest of several minutes.
Then Sam asked solicitously:
“How are you feelin’, lad?”
“I’m all right,” Benny replied, panting so heavily that it was only
with the greatest difficulty he could articulate.
“This ain’t the kind of a night when a fellow can lay along the shore
very long without running the risk of freezin’ to death. We’d best be
movin’ as soon as you can walk.”
“I’m ready now,” and Benny rose to his feet.
“Throw off that cork-jacket; take hold of my hand, and once we’ve
started, keep movin’ as long as it’s possible to breathe. We came out
of that smother all right, an’ now are bound to get back to the station
in such shape that we’ll be able to do our full share of the work.”
“Will the crew try to do anything more, now that the life-boat is
gone?” Benny asked as he followed at a rapid pace by Sam’s side.
“We’re obliged to do all we can to prevent wreck, an’ a dip like this
don’t excuse us from a full share of duty when there’s pressin’ need.”
“It would seem different if there was any one aboard the steamer or
lighters.”
“We are called on to save property as well as lives, lad, an’ whatever
danger we may have been in, or must face later, don’t count.”
There was no question in Benny’s mind but that the three men had been
taken safely from the hulk, because Sam Hardy declared they would be,
which declaration was the same to him as a fact; therefore he felt no
anxiety until they were within fifty yards of where the lighter lay
stranded upon the sands.
“The boys are still there,” the surfman said as he halted an instant to
peer seaward. “I reckon they’re right comfortable, though, for the surf
doesn’t break over them very badly, and it will soon be possible to
give them a line.”
“Where is Mr. Downey and the others?” Benny asked, gazing around but
without seeing any sign of life upon the shore.
Sam Hardy stopped only sufficiently long to assure himself they were
not in the vicinity, and then replied in a tone of conviction:
“Gone back to the station for the beach-wagon.”
“Perhaps they never got ashore,” Benny added in a whisper of awe.
“Don’t get such an idea as that in your head, lad. I’d answer for it
every one didn’t go under, an’ the fact that there are none here is
proof each man answered to his name.”
“What do you suppose they thought had become of us?”
“We didn’t cut any figger in their thoughts, lad. Most likely Downey
knew I jumped aboard the life-boat, an’ after that he counted us out
when reckonin’ how many was in need of help. We’ll push on, for it’ll
be a hard tug gettin’ that cart over these rocks with only half a crew.”
“Are the other lighters adrift?” Benny asked as he followed his comrade
at a smart pace.
“Ay, lad, an’ as near as I can make out, two of them are afoul of the
steamer. There’ll be a pretty mess there when the sun rises, an’ we’ll
be hauled over the coals for it; but I’ll thank anybody to tell me how
we could have done more than we did.”
At that moment Benny gave little heed to the fate of the stranded
steamer; if the three men could be safely taken from the lighter he
believed there would be cause for rejoicing, even though all hulks
alongshore were dashed to pieces.
Before the two had traversed more than a third of the distance from the
scene of the disaster to the station they came upon the remnant of the
crew dragging the beach-apparatus.
Benny may have thought that the keeper would at least congratulate
them upon their escape, but he did nothing of the kind. Danger was
too frequent a visitor to cause much comment, save at the very moment
of its appearance, and the keeper said quietly, as if they had been
engaged in some ordinary duty:
“Got ashore, eh? Where’s the life-boat?”
“The other side of Jefford’s reef. While the wind holds in this quarter
there’s no fear she’ll drift far, an’ we can pick her up in the
mornin’.”
“Take hold here, and let us finish this job as soon as may be, for I
don’t like the idea of leaving the remainder of the coast without a
patrol”; and he added after the wagon was in motion once more, with Sam
and Benny in the rope harness, “Did the other lighters come in?”
“They’re grindin’ the steamer into toothpicks. Even if we had all hands
out there in the big boat, it would be impossible to do anything.”
“I know that,” Downey replied impatiently, “an’ yet it will seem to
others as if we might have done more. A pretty story we’ve got to tell
about this night’s work! A crew of life savers wrecked in a life-boat!
If we’re not the sport of every man in the Service from this out, I’ll
eat my hat!”
“And yet there’s no man livin’ who could have foreseen what happened.
It was the proper thing to send us on board the lighter, an’ if her
gear gave way, we’re not to be blamed for it,” Sam replied earnestly,
and Tom Downey remained silent.