The wreck of a ship on the threshold of the home where every occupant is
known, is a scene of excitement beyond the reach of pen to adequately
describe; and as the two young men reached the mouth of the harbour,
following closely upon Van Heldre, their own petty animosity was
forgotten in the face of the terrible disaster.
The night was coming fast, and a light had been hoisted in the rigging
of the vessel, now hard on the dangerous rock--the long arc of a circle
described by the dim star showing plainly to those on shore the
precarious position of the unfortunate crew.
The sides of the harbour were crowded, in spite of the tremendous storm
of wind and spray; and, as Leslie followed the ship-owner, he noted the
horror and despair in many a spray-wet face.
As Van Heldre approached and was recognised there was a cheer given by
those who seemed to take it for granted that the owner would at once
devise a way to save the vessel from her perilous position; and rescue
the crew whose lives were clear to many gathered in agony around, to
see, as it were, their dear ones die.
Steps had already been taken, however, and as the little party from Van
Heldre's reached the harbour it was to see the life-boat launched, and a
crew of sturdy fellows in their places, ready to do battle with the
waves.
It seemed to be a terrible task to row right out from the comparatively
calm harbour, whose long rocky point acted as a breakwater, to where the
great billows came rolling in, each looking as if it would engulf a
score of such frail craft as that which, after a little of the
hesitation of preparation, and amidst a tremendous burst of cheering,
was rowed out into the middle of the estuary, and then straight away for
the mouth.
But they were not all cheers which followed the boat. Close by where
Leslie stood, with a choking sensation of emotion in his breast, a woman
uttered a wild shriek as the boat went off, and her hands were
outstretched towards one of the oilskin-cased men, who sat in his place
tugging stolidly at his oar.
That one cry, heard above the roaring of the wind, the hiss of the
spray, and the heavy thunder of the waves, acted like a signal to let
loose the pent-up agony of a score of hearts; and wives, mothers,
sisters, all joined in that one wild cry, "Come back!"
The answer was a hoarse "Give way!" from the coxswain; and the crew
turned their eyes determinedly from the harbour wall and tugged at their
oars.
The progress of the boat was followed as far as was possible by the
crowd; and when they could go no farther, every sheltered spot was
seized upon as a coign of vantage from which to watch the saving of the
doomed crew.
Leslie was standing close to the harbour wall, sheltering his face with
his hands as he watched the life-boat fast nearing the mouth of the
harbour, where the tug of war would commence, when he felt a hand laid
upon his arm.
He turned sharply, to find Madelaine at his elbow, her hood drawn over
her head and tightly secured beneath her chin.
He hardly saw her face, though, for close beside her stood another
closely-hooded figure, whose face was streaming with the spray, while
strand after strand of her dark hair had been torn from its place by the
wind, and refused to be controlled.
"Miss Van Heldre! Miss Vine!"
"Yes. Where is my father?"
"Here; talking to this coastguardsman."
"And I thought we had lost him," murmured Madelaine.
"But is it wise of you two ladies?" said Leslie, as he grasped Louise's
hand for a moment. "The storm is too terrible."
"We could not rest indoors," said Louise. "My father is down here, is
he not?"
"I have not seen him. You want some better shelter."
"No, no; don't think of us," said Louise excitedly; "but if you can help
in any way."
"You know I will," said Leslie earnestly.
"Here, what are you two girls doing?" said a quick, angry voice.
"Louie, I'm sure this is no place for you."
Harry spoke to his sister, but his eyes were fixed upon those of Leslie,
who, however, declined his challenge, as it seemed, to quarrel, and
glanced at the young man's companion.
At that moment the brothers Vine came up, and there was no farther
excuse for Harry's fault-finding objections.
"Can't you young fellows do anything to help?" said Uncle Luke.
"I wish you would tell us what to do, Mr Vine," said Leslie coldly.
Just then Van Heldre turned to, and joined them.
"He is afraid the distance is too far," he said dreamily, as if in
answer to a question.
"For the boat, Mr Van Heldre?" cried Louise.
"No, no; for the rocket apparatus. Ah! Vine," he continued, as he saw
his old friend, "how helpless we are in such a storm!"
No more was said. It was no time for words. The members of the two
families stood together in a group watching the progress of the boat,
and even Aunt Marguerite's cold and sluggish blood was moved enough to
draw her to the window, through whose spray and salt-blurred panes she
could dimly see the tossing light of the brig.
It was indeed no time for words, and even the very breath was held, to
be allowed to escape in a low hiss of exultation as the life-boat was
seen to rise suddenly and swiftly up a great bank of water, stand out
upon its summit for a few moments, and then plunge down out of sight as
the wave came on, deluged the point, and roared and tumbled over in the
mouth of the harbour.
It was plain enough now; the life-boat was beyond the protection of the
point; and its progress was watched as it rose and fell, slowly growing
more distant, and at times invisible for minutes together.
At such times the excitement seemed beyond bearing. The boat, all felt,
must have been swamped, and those on board left tossing in the boiling
sea. The catastrophe of the wreck of the brig seemed to be swallowed up
now in one that was greater; and as Leslie glanced round once, it was to
see Louise and Madelaine clinging together, wild-eyed and pale.
"There she is!" shouted a voice; and the life-boat was seen to slowly
rise again, as a hoarse cheer arose--the pent-up excitement of the
moment.
It seemed an interminable length of time before the life-saving vessel
reached the brig, and what followed during the next half-hour could only
be guessed at. So dark had it become that now only the tossing light on
board the doomed merchantman could be seen, rising and falling slowly
with rhythmical regularity, as if those on board were waving to those
they loved a sad farewell.
Then at last a faint spark was seen for a few moments before it
disappeared. Again it shone for a while and again disappeared.
"One of the lanthorns in the life-boat."
"Coming back," said Van Heldre hoarsely.
"With the crew, sir?" cried Leslie.
"Hah!" exclaimed Van Heldre slowly; "that we must see."
Another long time of suspense and horror. A dozen times over that
boat's light seemed to have gone for ever, but only to reappear; and at
last, in the darkness it was seen, after a few minutes' tremendous
tossing, to become steady.
The life-boat was in the harbour once again, and a ringing burst of
cheers, that seemed smothered directly after by the roar of the storm,
greeted the crew as they rowed up to the landing-place, utterly
exhausted, but bringing with them two half-dead members of the brig's
crew.
"All we could get to stir," said the sturdy coxswain, "and we could not
get aboard."
"How many are there?"
"Seven, sir--in main-top. Half-dead."
"You should have stayed and brought them off," cried Leslie frantically,
for he did not realise the difficulties of the task the men had had to
fulfil.
"Who goes next?" cried Van Heldre, as the half-drowned men were borne,
under the direction of the doctor, to the nearest inn.
"No one can't go again, sir," said the old coxswain sternly. "It arn't
to be done."
"A crew must go again," cried Van Heldre. "We cannot stand here and let
them perish before our eyes. Here, my lads!" he roared. "Volunteers!"
"Mr Leslie! My father," whispered Madelaine; but the young mine-owner
was already on his way to where Van Heldre stood.
"Do you hear?" roared the latter. "Do as you would be done by.
Volunteers!"
Not a man stirred, the peril was too great.
"It's no good, master," said the old coxswain; "they're gone, poor lads,
by now."
"No," cried Leslie excitedly; "the light is there still."
"Ay," said the coxswain, "a lamp 'll burn some time longer than a man's
life. Here, master, I'll go again, if you can get a crew."
"Volunteers!" shouted Van Heldre, but there was only a confused babble
of voices, as women clung to their men and held back those who would
have yielded.
"Are you men!" roared Leslie excitedly; and Madelaine felt her arm
grasped tightly. "I say, are you men, to stand there and see those poor
fellows perish before your eyes!"
"It's throwing lives away," cried a shrill woman's voice.
"Ay, go yoursen," shouted a man angrily. "I'm going," roared Leslie.
"Only a landsman. Now then, is there never a sailor who will come?"
There was a panting, spasmodic cry at Madelaine's ear, one which she
echoed, as Harry Vine stepped up to Leslie's side.
"Here's another landsman," he cried excitedly. "Now, Pradelle, come
on!"
There was no response from his companion, who drew back.
"No, no," panted Madelaine. "Louie--help me--they must not go."
Her words were drowned in a tremendous cheer, for Van Heldre, without a
word, had stepped into the life-boat, followed by the two young men.
Example is said to be better than precept. It was so here, for, with a
rush, twenty of the sturdy Hakemouth fishers made for the boat, and the
crew was not only made up, but a dozen men begged Van Heldre and the two
young men to come out and let others take their places.
"_No_," said Leslie through his set teeth; "not if I never see shore
again, Henry Vine."
"Is that brag to Hector over me, or British pluck?" said Harry.
"Don't know, my lad. Are you going ashore?"
"Let's wait and see," muttered Harry, as he tied on the life-preserver
handed to him.
"Harry, my boy!"
The young man looked up and saw his father on the harbour wall.
"Hallo! Father!" he said sadly.
"You are too young and weak. Let some strong man go."
"I can pull an oar as well as most of them, father," he shouted; and
then to himself: "And if I don't get back--well--I suppose I'm not much
good."
"Let him go," said Uncle Luke, as he held back his brother. "Hang the
boy, he has stuff in him after all."
A busy scene of confusion for a few minutes, and then once more a cheer
arose, as the life-boat, well manned, parted the waters of the harbour,
and the lanthorns forward and astern shone with a dull glare as that
first great wave was reached, up which the boat glided, and then plunged
down and disappeared.
One long hour of intense agony, but not for those in the boat. The
energy called forth, the tremendous struggle, the excitement to which
every spirit was wrought, kept off agony or fear. It was like being in
the supreme moments of a battle-charge, when in the wild whirl there is
no room for dread, and a man's spirit carries him through to the end.
The agony was on shore, where women clung together no longer weeping,
but straining their eyes seaward for the dancing lights which dimly
crept up each billow, and then disappeared, as if never to appear again.
"Madelaine!"
"Louise!"
All that was said as the two girls clasped each other and watched the
dim lanthorns far at sea. "Ah!"
Then a loud groan.
"I knowed it couldn't be long."
Then another deep murmur, whose strange intensity had made it dominate
the shrieks, roars, and thunder of the storm.
The light, which had been slowly waving up and down in the rigging of
the brig, had disappeared, and it told to all the sad tale--that the
mast had gone, and with it those who had been clinging in the top.
But the two dim lanthorns in the life-boat went on and on, the thunder
of the surf on the wreck guiding them. As the crew toiled away, the
landsmen sufficiently accustomed to the use of the oar could pretty well
hold their own, till, in utter despair and hopelessness, after hovering
hours about the place where the wreck should have been, the life-boat's
head was laid for the harbour lights; and after a fierce battle to avoid
being driven beyond, the gallant little crew reached the shelter given
by the long low point, but several had almost to be lifted to the wharf.
A few jagged and torn timbers, and a couple of bodies cast up among the
rocks, a couple of miles to the east, were all the traces of Van
Heldre's handsome brig, which had gone to pieces in the darkness before
the life-boat, on its second journey, was half-way there.
Volume 1, Chapter XIX.