The Floating Light of the Goodwin Sands Part 27

The s.p.a.ce between the boat and vessel was crossed by such a continuous rush of broken water that for a time it was impossible to attempt anything, but as the tide fell the c.o.xswain consulted with his bowman, and both agreed to venture to wade to the wreck, those on board having become so exhausted as to be unable or unwilling to make further effort to save themselves.

Acting on this resolve they with one of their men sprang into the raging surf and staggered to the wreck, where they induced two of the crew to leap overboard and brought them safely to the boat. Others of the lifeboat crew then joined them and four more were rescued. [See note 1.]

The tide had been at its lowest when this desperate work was begun,-- before it was finished it had turned. This, coupled with the fact that they had all been nearly swept away during the last effort; and that there was a fresh burst of violence in the gale, induced them to wait until the tide should rise. When it did so sufficiently, they hauled and shoved the boat alongside, and the captain, who was one of the three remaining men, made a desperate spring, but missed the boat and was whirled away. Pike made a grasp at him but missed. The c.o.xswain seized a life-buoy and hurled it towards him. It fell within his reach, and it was supposed that he had caught it, but they could not be certain. The boat was now afloat and b.u.mping violently. If they had cut the cable in order to rescue the captain, which they could by no means make sure of doing, the improbability of being able to return in time to save the two remaining men would have been very great. It seemed to be life or death in either case, so they stuck by the wreck.

It was grey dawn now, and the wreckage was knocking against and around them to such an extent that the c.o.xswain began to fear for the safety of his boat. Yet he was loath to leave the men to perish.

"Jump now, lads!" he cried, sheering up alongside, "it's your last chance. It's death to all of us if we stop longer here!"

The men sprang together. One gained the side of the boat and was saved, the other was swept away. He made frantic efforts to gain the boat, but before his companion had been got inboard he was out of sight, and although the cable was promptly cut and the sail set he could not be found. The boat was then run down along the sands in search of the captain. The c.o.xswain knew well from experience that he must certainly have been swept by the current in the same direction as the wreckage.

He therefore followed this, and in a short time had the inexpressible satisfaction and good fortune to find the captain. He had caught the life-buoy, and having managed to get it under his arms had floated about for the greater part of an hour. Though nearly dead he was still sensible, and, after being well chafed and refreshed with a little rum from the c.o.xswain's case-bottle--provided for occasions of this sort--he recovered.

The great work of the lifeboat had now been accomplished, but they could not feel that it had been thoroughly completed without one more effort being made to save the lost man. They therefore ran still farther down the sand in the direction where he had been last seen. They followed the drift of wreckage as before. Presently the bowman uttered a thrilling shout, for, through the turmoil of dashing spray, he saw the man clinging to a spar!

So unexpected was this happy event that the whole crew involuntarily gave vent to a ringing cheer, although, in the circ.u.mstances, and considering the nature of their exhausting work and the time they had been exposed to it, one might have supposed them incapable of such a burst of enthusiasm.

In a few moments he was rescued, and now, with light hearts, they ran for the tug, which was clearly visible in the rapidly increasing daylight. They did not put off time in transferring the saved men to the steamer. The big hawser,--their familiar bond of attachment,--was made fast to them, and away went that n.o.ble big brother and splendid little sister straight for Ramsgate harbour. [See note 2.]

But the work of that wild night was not yet finished. On their way home they fell in with a schooner, the foretopmast and bowsprit of which were gone. As she was drifting towards the sands they hailed her. No reply being made, the lifeboat was towed alongside, and, on being boarded, it was found that she was a derelict. Probably she had got upon the sands during the night, been forsaken by her crew in their own boat--in which event there was small chance of any being saved--and had drifted off again at the change of the tide.

Be that as it might, six lifeboat men were put on board. Finding no water in her, they slipt her two cables, which were hanging from the bow, a rope was made fast to the steamer, and she was taken in tow.

It was drawing towards noon when they neared the harbour. Very different indeed was the aspect of things there then from what it had been when they went out on their errand of mercy thirteen hours before.

Although the gale was still blowing fresh it had moderated greatly. The black clouds no longer held possession of the sky, but were pierced, scattered, and gilded, as they were rolled away, by the victorious sun.

The sea still raged and showed its white "teeth" fiercely, as if its spirit had been too much roused to be easily appeased; but blue sky appeared in patches everywhere; the rain had ceased, and the people of the town and visitors swarmed out to enjoy the returning sunshine, inhale the fresh sea-breeze, and await, anxiously, the return of the lifeboat--for, of course, every one in the town was aware by that time that she had been out all night.

When, at length, the smoke of the "big brother" was observed drawing near, the people flocked in hundreds to the piers and cliffs.--Wherever a point of vantage was to be had, dozens of spectators crowned it.

Wherever a point of danger was to be gained, daring spirits--chiefly in the shape of small boys--took it by storm, in absolute contempt of the police. "Jacob's Ladder"--the cliff staircase--was crowded from top to bottom. The west pier was rendered invisible to its outer extremity by human beings. The east pier, as far as it was dry, was covered by the fashion and beauty--as well as by the fishy and tarry--of the town.

Beyond the point of dryness it was more or less besieged by those who were reckless, riotous, and ridiculously fond of salt-water spray. The yards and shrouds of the crowded and much damaged shipping in the harbour were manned, and the windows of the town that commanded the sea were filled with human faces. An absolute battery of telescopes, like small artillery, was levelled at the approaching tug. Everywhere were to be seen and heard evidences of excitement, anxiety, and expectation.

It was not long before it was announced that flags were seen flying at the mast-heads of the tug and lifeboat--a sure evidence that a rescue had been successfully accomplished. This caused many a burst of cheering from the crowds, as the fact and its import became gradually known. But these were as nothing compared with the cheers that arose when the steamer, with the lifeboat and the schooner in tow, drew near, and it could be seen that there were many people on board--among them women and children. When they finally surged past the pier-head on the crest of a tremendous billow, and swept into the harbour under a vast shower of spray that burst over the pier and rose above the mast-heads of the shipping within--as if to pour a libation on the gallant crews-- then a succession of cheers, that cannot be described, welcomed the victors and re-echoed from the chalk-cliffs, to be caught up and sent out again and again in thrilling cadence on the mad sea, which had thus been plundered of its booty and disappointed of its prey!

Scarfs and hats and kerchiefs and hands were waved in wild enthusiasm, strangely mingled with tender pity, when the exhausted women and children and the worn-out and battered lifeboat-men were landed. Many cheered, no doubt, to think of the strong hearts and invincible courage that dwelt in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of Britain's sons; while others,--tracing things at once to their true source,--cheered in broken tones, or were incompetent to cheer at all, when they thought with thankfulness of Britain's faith in the Word of G.o.d, which, directly or indirectly, had given that courage its inspiration, and filled those hearts with fire.

Note 1. The c.o.xswain--Mr Isaac Jarman--who has rendered heroic service in the Ramsgate Lifeboat during the last ten years, has been personally instrumental in saving between four and five hundred lives.

Note 2. If the reader should desire to know something more of the history of the celebrated Ramsgate lifeboat, which, owing to its position, opportunities, and advantages, has had the most stirring career of all the lifeboat fleet, we advise the perusal of a work (at present in the press, if it be not already published) named _Storm Warriors, or the Ramsgate Lifeboat and the Goodwin Sands_, by the Reverend John Gilmore, whose able and thrilling articles on the lifeboat-service in _Macmillan's Magazine_ are well known.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

SHOWS THAT THERE ARE NO EFFECTS WITHOUT ADEQUATE CAUSES.

There were not a few surprising and unexpected meetings that day on Ramsgate pier. Foremost among the hundreds who pressed forward to shake the lifeboat-men by the hand, and to sympathise with and congratulate the wrecked and rescued people, was Mr George Durant. It mattered nothing to that stout enthusiast that his hat had been swept away into hopeless destruction during his frantic efforts to get to the front, leaving his polished head exposed to the still considerable fury of the blast and the intermittent violence of the sun; and it mattered, if possible, still less that the wreck turned out to be one of his own vessels; but it was a matter of the greatest interest and amazement to him to find that the first man he should meet in the crowd and seize in a hearty embrace, was his young friend, Stanley Hall.

"What, Stanney!" he exclaimed in unmitigated surprise; "is it--can it be? Prodigious sight!"

The old gentleman could say no more, but continued for a few seconds to wring the hands of his young friend, gaze in his face, and vent himself in gusts of surprise and bursts of tearful laughter, to the great interest and amus.e.m.e.nt of the bystanders.

Mr Durant's inconsistent conduct may be partly accounted for and excused by the fact that Stanley had stepped on the pier with no other garments on than a pair of trousers and a shirt, the former having a large rent on the right knee, and the latter being torn open at the breast, in consequence of the violent removal of all the b.u.t.tons when its owner was dragged into the lifeboat. As, in addition to this, the young man's dishevelled hair did duty for a cap, and his face and hands were smeared with oil and tar from the flare-lights which he had a.s.sisted to keep up so energetically, it is not surprising that the first sight of him had a powerful effect on Mr Durant.

"Why, Stanney," he said at length, "you look as if you were some strange sea-monster just broke loose from Neptune's menagerie!"

Perhaps this idea had been suggested by the rope round Stanley's waist, the cut end of which still dangled at his side, for Mr Durant took hold of it inquiringly.

"Ay, sir," put in the c.o.xswain, who chanced to be near him, "that bit of rope is a scarf of honour. He saved the life of a soldier's widow with it."

There was a tendency to cheer on the part of the bystanders who heard this.

"G.o.d bless you, Stanney, my boy! Come and get dressed," said the old gentleman, suddenly seizing his friend's arm and pushing his way through the crowd, "come along; oh, don't talk to me of the ship. I know that it's lost; no matter--you are saved. And do _you_ come along with us Wel--Wel--what's the name of --? Ah! Welton--come; my daughter is here somewhere. I left her near the parapet. Never mind, she knows her way home."

Katie certainly was there, and when, over the heads of the people--for she had mounted with characteristic energy on the parapet, a.s.sisted by Queeker and accompanied by f.a.n.n.y Hennings--she beheld Stanley Hall in such a plight, she felt a disposition to laugh and cry and faint all at once. She resisted the tendency, however, although the expression of her face and her rapid change of colour induced Queeker with anxious haste to throw out his arms to catch her.

"Ha!" exclaimed Queeker, "_I knew it_!"

What Queeker knew he never explained. It may have had reference to certain suspicions entertained in regard to the impression made by the young student on Katie the night of their first meeting; we cannot tell, but we know that he followed up the exclamation with the muttered remark, "It was fortunate that I pulled up in time."

Herein Queeker exhibited the innate tendency of the human heart to deceive itself. That furious little poetical fox-hunter had, by his own confession, felt the pangs of a guilty conscience in turning, just because he could not help it, from Katie to f.a.n.n.y, yet here he was now basely and coolly taking credit to himself for having "pulled up in time!"

"Oh, look at the _dear_ little children!" exclaimed f.a.n.n.y, pointing towards a part of the crowd where several seamen were carrying the rescued and still terrified little ones in their strong arms, while others a.s.sisted the women along, and wrapped dry shawls round them.

"How dreadful to think," said Katie, making a hard struggle to suppress her agitation, "that all these would have been lost but for the lifeboat; and how wonderful to think that some of our own friends should be among them!"

"Ay, there be many more besides these saved last night, miss," remarked a st.u.r.dy old boatman who chanced to be standing beside her. "All along the east coast the lifeboats has bin out, miss, you may be sure; and they don't often shove off without bringin' somethin' back to show for their pains, though they don't all 'ave steamers for to tug 'em out.

There's the Broadstairs boat, now; I've jist heerd she was out all night an' saved fifteen lives; an' the Walmer and Deal boats has fetched in a lot, I believe, though we han't got particklers yet."

Besides those whom we have mentioned as gazing with the crowd at the arrival of the lifeboat, Morley Jones, and Nora, and Billy Towler were there. Jones and Billy had returned from London together the night before the storm, and, like nearly every one else in the town, had turned out to witness the arrival of the lifeboat.

d.i.c.k Moy also was there, and that huge lump of good-nature spent the time in making sagacious remarks and wise comments on wind and weather, wrecks and rescues, in a manner that commanded the intense admiration of a knot of visitors who happened to be near him, and who regarded him as a choice specimen--a sort of type--of the British son of Neptune.

"This is wot _I_ says," observed d.i.c.k, while the people were landing "so long as there's 'ope, 'old on. Never say die, and never give in; them's my sentiments. 'Cause why? no one never knows wot may turn up. If your ship goes down; w'y, wot then? Strike out, to be sure. P'r'aps you may be picked up afore long. If sharks is near, p'r'aps you may be picked down. You can never tell. If you gets on a shoal, wot then? w'y, stick to the ship till a lifeboat comes off to 'ee. Don't never go for to take to your own boats. If you do--capsize, an' Davy Jones's locker is the word. If the lifeboat can't git alongside; w'y, wait till it can.

If it can't; w'y, it can only be said that it couldn't. No use cryin'

over spilt milk, you know. Not that I cares for milk. It don't keep at sea, d'ye see; an's only fit for babbys. If the lifeboat capsizes; w'y, then, owin' to her parfection o' build, she rights again, an' you, 'avin' on cork jackets, p'r'aps, gits into 'er by the lifelines, all handy. If you 'aven't got no cork jackets on, w'y, them that has'll pick 'ee up. If not, it's like enough you'll go down. But no matter, you've did yer best, an' man, woman, or child can do no more. You can only die once, d'ye see?"

Whether the admiring audience did or did not see the full force of these remarks, they undoubtedly saw enough in the gigantic tar to esteem him a marvel of philosophic wisdom. Judging by their looks that he was highly appreciated, it is just possible that d.i.c.k Moy might have been tempted to extend his discourse, had not a move in the crowd showed a general tendency towards dispersion, the rescued people having been removed, some to the Sailor's Home, others to the residences of hospitable people in the town.

Now, it must not be imagined that all these characters in our tale have been thus brought together, merely at our pleasure, without rhyme or reason, and in utter disregard of the law of probabilities. By no means.

Mr Robert Queeker had started for Ramsgate, as the reader knows, on a secret mission, which, as is also well known, was somewhat violently interrupted by the sporting tendencies of that poetical law-clerk; but no sooner did Queeker recover from his wounds than--with the irresistible ardour of a Wellington, or a Blucher, or a bull-dog, or a boarding-school belle--he returned to the charge, made out his intended visit, set his traps, baited his lines, fastened his snares, and whatever else appertained to his secret mission, so entirely to the satisfaction of Messrs. Merryheart and Dashope, that these estimable men resolved, some time afterwards, to send him back again to the scene of his labours, to push still further the dark workings of his mission.

Elate with success the earnest Queeker prepared to go. Oh, what joy if _she_ would only go with him!

"And why not?" cried Queeker, starting up when this thought struck him, as if it had struck him too hard and he were about to retaliate,--"Why not? _That_ is the question."