Stories of the Lifeboat Part 3

The survivors were taken off the wreck with all speed, and the boat's course was shaped for Ramsgate harbour. Outside the sands the tug was in waiting, a rope was quickly pa.s.sed on board, and away they steamed.

Meanwhile, news had come to Ramsgate that three lifeboats along the coast had gone out and returned without being able to reach the wreck.

This naturally caused great anxiety in the town, and it was feared that some accident had befallen the _Bradford_. From early morning on Thursday, anxious wives and sisters were on the lookout on the pierhead.

About two o'clock the _Vulcan_ came in sight with the lifeboat astern.

Almost immediately the pier was thronged with a crowd numbering about two thousand persons. At half-past two the tug steamed into the harbour, having been absent upwards of twenty-six hours.

"One by one," writes Clark Russell, "the survivors came along the pier, the most dismal procession it was ever my lot to behold, eleven live but scarcely living men, most of them clad in oilskins, and walking with bowed backs, drooping heads, and nerveless arms. There was blood on the faces of some, circled with a white encrustation of salt, and this same salt filled the hollows of their eyes and streaked their hair with lines which looked like snow. They were all saturated with brine; they were soaked with sea-water to the very marrow of their bones. Shivering, and with a stupefied rolling of the eyes, their teeth clenched, their chilled fingers pressed into the palms of their hands, they pa.s.sed out of sight. I had often met men newly rescued from shipwreck, but never remember having beheld more mental anguish and physical suffering than was expressed in the countenances and movements of these eleven sailors."

[Ill.u.s.tration: SURVIVORS OF THE "INDIAN CHIEF."]

They were taken to the Sailors' Home, and well cared for; the lifeboatmen were escorted home to their families amid the cheers of the spectators. Thus ended a splendid piece of service. "Nothing grander in its way was ever done before, even by Englishmen."

Five days later a most fitting and interesting ceremony took place on the lawn in front of the coastguard station at Ramsgate, when the medals and certificates of the Royal National Lifeboat Inst.i.tution were awarded to those who had taken part in the rescue. The c.o.xswain of the _Bradford_ received the gold medal, each of the crew of the lifeboat and the captain of the tug received silver medals, the engineer was presented with the second service clasp, and a certificate of thanks was handed to each of the _Vulcan's_ crew. The Duke of Edinburgh, himself a sailor, in distributing the honours, told the men that their heroic conduct had awakened the greatest possible interest and pride throughout England; and he declared his conviction that though they would prize the rewards greatly, they would most value the recollection of having by their pluck and determination saved so many lives.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE LAST CHANCE.

Exactly ten years after the events narrated in the previous chapter had taken place, the Ramsgate lifeboatmen were again conspicuous for their gallantry in saving life under the most trying circ.u.mstances. About one o'clock on the morning of the 6th of January 1891, the schooner _Crocodile_, bound for London with a cargo of stone, ran ash.o.r.e on the Goodwins. Blinding snow squalls prevailed at the time, and the wind blew with the force of a hurricane. Immediately the vessel struck, she turned completely round and went broadside on to the sands. On realising their position, the crew burnt flares, made by tearing up their clothes and soaking the rags in oil, and attracted the attention of those on board the Gull lightship, who immediately fired signal-guns to summon the lifeboat. Scarcely, however, had the flare been burned than the sailors were compelled by the high seas to take to the rigging.

Great waves swept the decks, carrying everything before them; even the ship's boats were wrenched from the davits and whirled away as if they had been toys.

In answer to the guns the Ramsgate tug and lifeboat were manned and steered in the direction of the flare. Huge seas broke over the lifeboat and froze as they fell on the almost motionless figures of the boatmen. The snow came down in pitiless showers, enveloping them in its white mantle. In a short time the tug had towed the _Bradford_ to windward of the vessel. Then the rope was thrown off, the sail was hoisted, and the boat made for the wreck. She had not gone far before a terrific snow squall overtook her. Fearing that they would be driven past the vessel without seeing her, the c.o.xswain ordered the anchor to be thrown out. This was done, and the boat lay-to till the sudden fury of the gale had spent itself. Then the anchor was hoisted in and all sail made for the wreck.

Again the anchor was let go, just to windward of her, and the lifeboat was veered cautiously down. As they drew nearer, the men could see the crouching figures of the sailors lashed to the rigging. They seemed more dead than alive, and gazed upon the men who were risking their own lives, to save them with the fixed stare of indifference or death. The lifeboat ran in under the stern and was brought up alongside. The grapnel was got out, and one of the men stood up, ready to throw it into the rigging on the first favourable opportunity. Suddenly a mighty billow swooped down upon them. The anchor cable--5 inches thick--was snapped like a thread, and the boat was borne on the crest of the wave far out of reach of the wreck.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A LIFEBOAT GOING OUT.]

As quickly as possible the sail was again set, and the trusty _Bradford_ made for the tug, which was burning blue lights to show where she was.

After many attempts a rope was secured on board, and the _Aid_ steamed to windward the second time with the lifeboat in tow. Once more she was in a favourable position for the wreck, the rope was cast off, and the sail hoisted. The second and last anchor was let go, and the cable was slowly slackened. If they failed this time the men must perish. It was a terribly anxious moment, but fortune favoured them, and the lifeboat was successfully brought into her former position alongside.

The hull of the _Crocodile_ was now entirely under water, and her deck was washed by every wave. High up in the rigging, on the side opposite to that on which the lifeboat lay, the crew were huddled. The only way for them to reach the lifeboat was by climbing to the masthead and coming down on the other side. This is a feat which requires no little steadiness of hand and eye, and when we remember that these poor sailors had been exposed for nearly five hours on this January night to the full fury of a wintry storm, we shall be better able to appreciate the terrors through which they pa.s.sed before they found themselves safe in the lifeboat.

In obedience to the c.o.xswain's order, they unlashed themselves and began to crawl aloft. Every sea shook the vessel, and, as she settled again on the sands, the masts bent almost double. Their progress was slow, but before long they were in a position to be rescued. This was done with great difficulty, for the heavy seas caused the lifeboat to strike against the vessel several times with considerable violence, but her cork fender protected her from injury. At length the whole crew of six men were hauled safely on board. The captain alone remained to be rescued.

High up at the masthead he could be seen preparing to cross from the opposite side. Benumbed by the cold and bewildered by the swaying of the masts, he paused for a moment. The lifeboatmen shouted words of encouragement to him, and he prepared to come on, but he missed his hold and fell into the seething waves eddying round the wreck. As he fell his lifebelt caught on something, and was torn off, and before the boatmen could lay hold of him he was swept out of their sight for ever.

The lifeboat was quickly got clear of the wreck, and proceeded under sail to the tug, which was in waiting some distance off. Ramsgate was reached about eight o'clock in the morning, where the rescued men were supplied with dry clothing and food, of which they stood greatly in need.

There is a circ.u.mstance of peculiar interest connected with the wreck of the _Crocodile_. Two days before she struck on the sands, her sister ship, the _Kate_, also laden with stone, was stranded on the Goodwins.

On that occasion the lifeboat _Mary Somerville_ of Deal went out to a.s.sist. The lifeboatmen were employed to throw the cargo overboard and try to get the vessel afloat. This was successfully accomplished, and on the morning of the day on which the _Crocodile_ was wrecked, her sister ship was towed into Ramsgate harbour with her crew of nine men on board.

CHAPTER IX.

HARDLY SAVED.

The first duty of the crew of the lifeboat is to save life, but it frequently happens that a stranded vessel is not so seriously damaged as to hinder her being got afloat again. Under these circ.u.mstances the men are at liberty to a.s.sist in saving the vessel if the captain is willing to employ them. This is a very dangerous business, and often after long hours of peril and labour the ship is dashed to pieces by the waves, and the men are with difficulty rescued. A splendid example of the risk attending this salvage service occurred several years ago on the Goodwin Sands.

In response to signals of distress the tug and lifeboat put out from Ramsgate pier, and found a Portuguese ship on the sands. Her masts and rigging were still standing, and there was every chance of her being saved. The vessel had gone head on to the Goodwins, and the boatmen got an anchor out from the stern as quickly as possible, with the intention of working her off into deep water by the help of the tug; but this attempt had soon to be abandoned. Shortly after midnight the gale increased, and heavy seas began to roll over the sands. The ship, which had all along lain comparatively still, was now dashed about by the waves with terrific violence. The lifeboat remained alongside, and her crew, knowing well that a storm on the Goodwins is not to be trifled with, urged the sailors to come on board. The captain, however, refused to leave his ship, so there was nothing for it but to wait until an extra heavy sea should convince the captain that it was no longer possible to save the vessel.

This happened sooner than could have been expected, for almost the very next instant a wave struck her and smashed several of her timbers. The sailors now begged to be taken on board, and they were told to "Come on, and hurry up." But first of all they had to get their belongings.

Though every moment was of consequence, the c.o.xswain had not the heart to forbid them bringing any articles on board, and eight chests were lowered into the lifeboat. Then one by one the crew abandoned the vessel.

All danger was not yet over. The seas dashed over the ship into the lifeboat, blinding and drenching the men, and rendering still more difficult their task of keeping the boat from being crushed under the side of the vessel. Haul at the cable as they would, they were unable to get her out of the basin which the brig had made for herself in the sand. To add to the horror of their position, the wreck threatened to fall over on the top of them every moment.

There was only one way of escape--to wait until the tide rose sufficiently to float them off, but the chances were that when the tide rose it would be too late to save them. They would then have ceased to struggle or to suffer, and the battered remains of their trusty boat would tell those at home what had become of them. Crouching down as low as possible to avoid being struck by the swaying yards and fluttering canvas, the men waited for deliverance--or would it be death?

At length the tide reached her, and the boatmen redoubled their efforts to haul their little vessel away from the ship. Slowly, very slowly, she drew away from that terrible black hull and those swaying yards. But now a new and unforeseen difficulty presented itself. In the face of the wind and tide it was impossible for them to get away from the sands, so in spite of their exhaustion and the black darkness of the night, they determined to beat right across the sands. They hauled hard on the cable again, but the anchor began to drag, and they were drifting back again to the wreck.

"Up foresail!" shouted the c.o.xswain, at the same time giving orders to cut away the anchor. The boat bounded forward for a few yards and then struck on the sands again fearfully near to the wreck. Wave after wave dashed into the boat and nearly washed the wearied men overboard, but they held on like bulldogs. Three times she was driven back to the wreck, and again and again she grounded on the sands.

One of the crew, an old man upwards of fifty years of age, thus described his feelings.

"Perhaps my friends were right when they said I hadn't ought to have gone out, but, you see, when there is life to be saved, it makes a man feel young again; and I've always felt I had a call to save life when I could, and I wasn't going to hang back then. I stood it better than some of them, after all; but when we got to beating and grubbing over the sands, swinging round and round, and grounding every few yards with a jerk, that almost tore our arms out from the sockets; no sooner washed off one ridge, and beginning to hope that the boat was clear, than she thumped upon another harder than ever, and all the time the wash of the surf nearly carrying us out of the boat--it was truly almost too much for any man to stand. I cannot describe it, nor can anyone else; but when you say that you've beat and thumped over these sands, almost yard by yard, in a fearful storm on a winter's night, and live to tell the tale, why it seems to me about the next thing to saying that you've been dead and brought to life again."

At length deep water was reached, and their dangers were over. Quickly more sail was hoisted, and the boat headed for the welcome shelter of Ramsgate pier. All were in good spirits now, even the Portuguese sailors who had lost nearly everything they possessed. On the way home the lifeboatmen noticed that they seemed to be discussing something among themselves. Presently one of them presented the c.o.xswain with all the money they could sc.r.a.pe together, amounting to about 17, to be divided among the crew. "We don't want your money," shouted the hardy fellows, and with many shakings of the head they returned the generous gift. The harbour was soon afterwards reached, where they were landed overjoyed at their miraculous escape, and by every means in their power endeavouring to show the grat.i.tude they felt but could not speak.

CHAPTER X.

A WRESTLE WITH DEATH.

One bleak December night, a few years ago, word was brought to Ramsgate that a large vessel had gone ash.o.r.e on the Goodwin Sands. Immediately on receiving the message, the harbour-master ordered the steam tug _Aid_ to tow the lifeboat to the scene of the disaster. The alarm bell was rung, the crew scrambled into their places, a stout hawser was pa.s.sed on board the tug, and away they went into the pitchy darkness.

The storm was at its height, and "the billows frothed like yeast" under the lash of the furious wind. Hardly had the lifeboat left the shelter of the breakwater than a huge wave burst over her, drenching the men to the skin, in spite of their waterproofs and cork jackets, and almost sweeping some of them overboard. At one moment they were tossed upwards, as it seemed to the sky; at another they dropped down into a valley of water with huge green walls on either side. Again and again the spray dashed over them in blinding showers, but no one thought of turning back.

Bravely the stout little tug battled with the waves, and slowly but surely made headway against the storm, dragging the lifeboat after her.

As they neared the probable position of the wreck, the men eagerly strained their eyes to gain a sight of the object of their search, but nothing met their gaze save the white waters foaming on the fatal sands.

Suddenly, through the flying spray, loomed the hull of a large ship, with the breakers dashing over the bows. Not a single figure was visible in the rigging, and on that desolate, wave-swept deck no mortal man could keep his footing for five seconds.

"All must have perished!" Such was the painful conclusion arrived at by the lifeboatmen as they approached the stranded vessel, but it would never do for them to return and say that they _thought_ all the crew had been swept away; they must go and find out for certain. The tow rope was accordingly thrown off, the sail was hoisted, and the lifeboat darted among the breakers. Suddenly one of the lifeboatmen uttered a cry, and on looking in the direction of his outstretched arm, his companions saw four figures crouching under the lee of one of the deck-houses. The anchor was immediately let go, and the lifeboat was brought up under the stern of the wreck.

To the astonishment of the boatmen the sailors had as yet hardly noticed their presence. They seemed to be deeply absorbed in making something, but what it was could not be seen. Presently one of the men rose up, and coming to the stern of the vessel threw a lifebuoy attached to a long line into the sea. It was afterwards learnt that, from the time their vessel struck, these poor fellows had busied themselves in preparing this buoy to throw to their rescuers when they should arrive.

Borne by the wind and tide the lifebuoy reached the boat, and was at once seized and hauled on board. An endeavour was then made to pull the lifeboat nearer the wreck, but the strength of the men was of no avail against that of the tempest. Great seas came thundering over the wreck and nearly swamped the boat. Several men were shaken from their places, but fortunately none of them were washed overboard. They redoubled their efforts after each repulse, but with no better fortune.

Seeing that the lifeboat could not come to him, the captain of the doomed vessel determined to go to her. Choosing a favourable moment, he abandoned the shelter of the deck-house, threw off his coat, seized hold of the line, and jumped into the sea. The waves tossed him hither and thither as they would a cork, but he held on like grim death. At one moment he hung suspended in mid air; at another he was engulfed by the raging waters. The lifeboatmen, powerless to render any a.s.sistance, watched the unequal contest with bated breath. Bravely the captain struggled on, and gradually reduced the distance between himself and the hands stretched out ready to save him. Suddenly a tremendous wave broke over the wreck, and when it pa.s.sed the men saw that he had been swept from the rope.

With all the might of his strong arm the c.o.xwain hurled a lifebuoy towards the drowning man. Fortunately it reached him, and with feelings of inexpressible relief the men saw him slip his shoulders through the buoy as he rose on the crest of a breaker. "All right," he shouted, as he waved his hand and vanished in the darkness.