The Sea: Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, & Heroism Volume II Part 18

"She went on sh.o.r.e on Wednesday night, the 19th instant, mistaking Rinevaha for Carrigaholt, and would have got off by the next spring-tide had the peasantry not boarded her, and rendered her not seaworthy by scuttling her and tearing away all her rigging; they then robbed the crew of all their clothes, tore their shirts, which they made bags of to carry away the plunder, and then broached the tierces of pork, and distributed the contents to people on sh.o.r.e, who a.s.sisted to convey them up the country. The alarm having reached this on Thursday, a sergeant and twelve of the police were sent down, with the chief constable at their head, and they succeeded in re-taking some of the provisions and securing them, driving the mob from the wreck. The police kept possession of what they had got during the night; but very early on Friday morning the people collected in some thousands, and went down to the beach, where they formed into three bodies, and cheered each other with hats off, advancing with threats, declaring that they defied the police, and would possess themselves again of what had been taken from them, and of the arms of the police. The police formed into one body, and, showing three fronts, endeavoured to keep them at bay, but in vain; they a.s.sailed them with stones, sticks, scythes, and axes, and gave some of our men some severe blows, which exasperated them so much that they were under the necessity of firing in self-defence, and four of the a.s.sailants fell victims, two of whom were buried yesterday. During their skirmishing, which began about seven o'clock, one of the men, mounted, was despatched to this town for a reinforcement, when Major Warburton, in half an hour, with twenty cavalry, and a few infantry mounted behind them, left this, and in one hour and a half were on board the wreck, and took twelve men in the act of cutting up the wreck. One of them made a blow of a hatchet at Major Warburton, which he warded off, and snapped a pistol at him; the fellow immediately threw himself overboard, when -- Troy charged him on horseback, up to the horse's knees in water, and cut him down. The fellows then flew in every direction, pursued by our men, who took many of them, and wounded several.

Nine tierces of pork had been saved. Her bowsprit, gaff, and spars are all gone, with every st.i.tch of canvas and all the running rigging. The shrouds are still left; two anchors and their cables are gone, and even the ship's pump. A more complete plunder has seldom been witnessed. Yesterday the revenue wherry went down to Rinevaha, and returned in the evening with the Major and a small party, with thirty-five prisoners, who now are all lodged in Bridewell. The women in mult.i.tudes a.s.sembled to supply the men with whisky to encourage them. Nothing could exceed the coolness of -- Balfice and his party, who certainly made a masterly retreat to the slated store at Carrigaholt, where I found them. He and Fitzgerald were wounded, but not severely. Fitzgerald had a miraculous escape, and would have been murdered, but was preserved by a man he knew from Kerry, who put him under his bed.

"J. MILLER."

[Ill.u.s.tration: MAJOR WARBURTON AT THE WRECK OF THE "INVERNESS."]

A late case of plundering on a large scale occurred the 26th September, 1817. The Norwegian brig _Bergetta_, Captain Peterson, was wrecked on the Cefu-Sidau sands, in Carmarthen Bay. She was bound from Barcelona for Stettin, with a cargo of wine, spirits, &c., when the master, losing his reckoning, owing to a thick fog, fell into the fatal error of taking the coast of Devon for that of France, and acted under that persuasion. So circ.u.mstanced, a violent gale, together with the tide, drove the vessel into the Bristol Channel, and she struck upon the above sands, and in the s.p.a.ce of two or three hours went to pieces. The master and crew, with great difficulty, got into the boat, and were all happily saved.

Notwithstanding the greatest exertions on the part of the officers of the Customs, supported by several gentlemen and others, acts of plunder were committed to a considerable extent. Of 266 pipes and casks of wine, &c., not above 100 were saved. Hundreds of men and women were reduced to nearly a state of insensibility through intoxication.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A WRECK ASh.o.r.e.]

A scarce and curious tract, published in 1796, exists in the library of the British Museum, and a few extracts from it will show the arguments by which the wreckers of the last century salved their consciences. It is supposed to be a dialogue between one Richard Sparkes, a chandler by trade, but a professional wrecker also, and John Trueman, "an honest taylor."

"'Good news! good news, neighbour!' said Richard Sparkes, the chandler, as he entered a shop where John Trueman, an honest taylor, was at work. 'The vessel which has been these three hours fighting with the surge and winds for the harbour has at last bulged. It is a trader from Amsterdam, they say, and faith! two thumping casks were floating before I left the beach.

Rare sport, Master Trueman, rare sport, let me tell you! A good bl.u.s.tering wind and a high surf is no bad thing for a seaport.'

"Honest Trueman, who had not been long an inhabitant of the place, and was quite unacquainted with this language-which, to the disgrace of humanity, is too often used by the unfeeling on such occasions in seaport towns-suspended his work, and listened to this harangue with too much surprise to interrupt it. At length, said he, 'Do you call this rare sport? Do you call this good news?'

"SPARKES. 'To be sure I do. I mean to be out all night; the tide will return in about three hours, and I warrant it will bring us something worth looking after. But mayhap, as you are a new-comer, Master Trueman, you do not know the go at these seasons, so I will tell you. You must know that when a vessel strikes it is catch as catch can for her lading: one has as good a right as another, and he is the luckiest who can get most.

We call it _going a wrecking_; and let me tell you it is no bad business.

There is my neighbour Perkins, the pilot, got the Lord knows what by the smuggling cutter that was wrecked about three leagues from hence two months ago. Ay, cask upon cask of the best French brandy, and tea, and I cannot tell you what he got; but he has held his head pretty high ever since, for, as good luck would have it, she struck upon a shoal of rock where the Custom-house officers would not venture, so Perkins and a few more knowing ones had it all to themselves. As I told you before, Master Trueman, this _going a wrecking_ is no bad business, so look about you.'"

Trueman upbraids the first speaker with dishonesty and want of humanity.

"'Humanity,' says Sparkes, 'odds my life! neighbour, there's not a more tenderhearted fellow alive. Many is the life my boat, when I was in the fishing trade, has saved from pure good-will; but as to the matter of the _wrecking_, every man must take care of his own interest. Charity, you know, Master Trueman, should begin at home.'" And he goes on to say that it was no fault of his that the vessel bulged, or that the master or cabin-boy were drowned; that it is all the chance of war, and that one vessel was the same to him as another, provided it were well laden. He added that he did not pretend to be better than his grandfather, and that wrecking was in fashion in his days and in those of his good old father before him.

Mr. D. Mackinnen, who made a tour through the West Indies early in the present century, particularly mentions the Bahamas as the home of wreckers. He says that the immense variety of banks, shallows, and unknown pa.s.sages between the hundreds of islands which form the group render the chances of shipwreck frequent. In order to save the crews and property so constantly exposed to danger, the Governor of the Bahamas, about the commencement of this century, licensed a number of daring adventurers to ply up and down and a.s.sist ships in peril, and there could not have been collected a more skilful and hardy set of men. But, unfortunately, the governor's good intentions were baulked by the larger part of them becoming wreckers. Mr. Mackinnen asking one of these men what success he had lately had, was told that there had been about forty sail of pilots along the Florida coast for four months. He remarked that they must have rendered great service to the crews wrecked in that dangerous pa.s.sage. The pilot said, "No; they generally _went on_ in the night." "But could not you light up beacons on sh.o.r.e?" "No, no," said the man, laughing, "we always put them out for a better chance by night." "But it would have been more humane--" "I did not go there for humanity; I went _racking_!"

CHAPTER XIX.

"HOVELLING" _v._ WRECKING.

The Contrast-The "Hovellers" defended-Their Services-The Case of the _Albion_-Anchors and Cables wanted by a disabled Vessel-Lugger wrecked on the Beach-Dangers of the Hoveller's Life-Nearly swamped by the heavy Seas-Loss of a baling Bowl, and what it means-Saved on an American Ship-The Lost Found-A brilliant example of Life-saving at Bideford-The Small Rewards of the Hoveller's Life-The case of _La Marguerite_-Nearly wrecked in Port-Hovellers _v._ Wreckers-"Let's all start fair!"-Praying for Wrecks.

The wrecker was a land-ghoul, a monster in human form, who preyed on human life and property. The "hovellers," a distinctive term on many parts of the coasts of this sea-girt isle, is applied to the hardy men who, in all weathers and at all risks, go to the a.s.sistance of ships in distress, and occasionally benefit by a wreck, but they are not wreckers. The Rev. Mr.

Gilmore, who has so well described the dangers, perils, and triumphs of the life-boat service, very properly includes among the storm warriors the honest men who perform these practical deeds of naval daring. Visitors to Ramsgate and other seaside resorts of the southern coast will remember the luggers in which holiday excursions are made; many of these same boats are, in winter more especially, engaged in very serious work. "The more threatening and heavy the weather," says our authority, "the greater the probability of disaster occurring or having occurred, then the more ready are the crew to work their way out to the Goodwin Sands, and to cruise round them on the look-out for vessels in distress; they dare not take the lugger into the broken water-there a life-boat alone can live: but still, she is a grand sea-boat, one that will stagger on, with a ship's heavy anchor and chain on board, through weather bad enough for anything-a boat that is well suited for the hard and dangerous service which employs her during the winter months." The hovelling lugger has generally a crew of ten men, and these receive no regular pay. Any salvage or reward the vessel earns is commonly divided into fourteen shares; the boat takes three and a half for the owners, half a share goes for the provisions, and each man of the crew receives one share. Mr. Gilmore says that "complaints are sometimes made of the amounts charged by these men for services rendered; but the cases of a good hovel are few and far between; and often the luggers put out to sea night after night throughout a stormy winter, hanging about the sands, in wind and rain, and snow and mists, the men half-frozen with the cold and half-smothered with the flying surf and spray, and often week after week they thus suffer and endure, and do not make a penny-piece each man; then at last, perhaps, comes a chance: a big ship is on the tail of a sandbank; they render a.s.sistance and get her off; they have saved thousands of pounds worth of property; and the captain, and the owners, and the underwriters all look aghast, and cry out with indignation when they ask perhaps a sum that will give them ten or fifteen pounds a man."

Not uncommonly the lugger speaks a vessel, and finds that an anchor or anchors, cables, &c., have been lost, and must be replaced. They must make in all haste for sh.o.r.e, and obtain what is needed, and put out again to the distressed vessel. What all this may mean on occasions to the owners and men of the hovelling vessels is shown in the following example-the case of the _Albion_ lugger.

The _Albion_ meets a vessel driving before the gale, having lost both her anchors and cables; receives orders to supply her from sh.o.r.e; and the hardy crew, putting the vessel round, beat through the heavy seas, and make for Deal. "They have to force the boat against wind and tide, and much skill is required to prevent her being filled by the rising seas which sweep around her; now she rushes upon the beach, the surf breaks over her and half fills her with water; with a tremendous thump and shake she strikes the sh.o.r.e with her iron keel.

"As the wave which bore the lugger in upon the beach recedes, a man springs overboard from the bow with a rope in his hand; many catch hold of the rope, and haul their hardest to keep the boat straight, head on to the beach; there is a stem strap-a chain running through a hole in the front part of the keel; a boatman watches his opportunity, and, as a wave sweeps back, rushes down and pa.s.ses a rope through the loop of the strap; the other end of this rope is fastened to a powerful capstan, which is placed high up on the beach. 'Man the capstan! Heave with a will!' and the strong men strain at the capstan bars until the capstan creaks again. There is no starting the lugger: she is so full of water from the surf breaking on the beach that she is too heavy for the men at one capstan to move her; ropes are led down from two other capstans, and rove through a s.n.a.t.c.h-block fastened to a boat on the beach; all put out their strength, round they tramp, with a 'Ho! heave ho!' and slowly the lugger travels up the beach, and is safe from the roll of the breakers. The men get the water out of her, haul her higher up on to a swivel platform, turn her round head to the sea, and the leading hands hurry away to inquire about an anchor and cable. The agent supplies them with such as seem suitable for the size of the vessel, and which will perhaps weigh together about seven tons." Then follows the labour of getting them on board, but in a short time all are ready for sea.

"The gale has rapidly increased in force, and a frightful surf is running on the beach; the roar of the breakers on the shingle, the howling of the storm, the gleam of white foam shining out of the mist and gloom, all picture the wildness of the storm; but the undaunted boatmen do not hesitate. All is ready; the signal given; the boat rushes down the steep ways, and is launched into the sea. A breaking wave rolls in swiftly, it meets the bow of the lugger in its rush, fills her; for a moment the big boat runs under water, and then is lifted and twisted like a toy in the grasp of the sea, and is thrown, in the heave of the wave, broadside on to the beach; a cry of horror from all on sh.o.r.e, and a rush down to aid the crew, who are all-there are fifteen of them-struggling in the surf: now the men are washed up by the wave, and feel the ground and stagger forward; now they are caught again by a breaker and rolled over; it is for each of them a terrible battle with the fierce seas; here one gets on his feet and stumbles forward, he is caught by the men on sh.o.r.e and dragged up the beach; there a man is lying struggling on the shingle, trying in vain to rise, exhausted and confused, two men seize his collar, and pull him forward a yard or two, then get him to his feet, and he escapes the next wave, which would have washed him out to sea again. Now all the men seem to be saved; names are shouted-do all answer? No; there is one missing!

All rush to the water's edge and gaze into the darkness, eagerly watching each shadow mid the surf. 'There he is! No! Yes it is! there-lifting on the surf! there, rolling-over!' 'Quick! quick! form a line!' And the brave boatmen grasp each other's hands with iron strength, and form a chain, the lowest of the four or five men at the sea end of the chain being in the water. The waves battle with them, but st.u.r.dily they persevere. At last the body is within reach of the seaward man; he grasps it; the men are dragged up the beach, and the poor insensible man is carried ash.o.r.e. Alive or dead? They cannot say; and with a great fear in their hearts they carry him hurriedly up the beach, and soon, to the great joy of all, he gives signs of life, and gradually recovers.

"In the meanwhile, the poor boatmen on the beach have nothing that they can do but watch their fine boat, which was worth five hundred pounds, being torn and hammered to pieces in the surf. Plank after plank is wrenched from her. Now, with a loud crash, she is broken in half; the two halves part; the anchor and cable fall through her. They can see part of the forepeak, with one side torn away, floating in the breakers; soon that also is rent to pieces, and nothing but fragments of the boat float in the surf or are strewn about the beach; and the boatmen, heavy-hearted, but thankful that they have escaped with their lives, go slowly to their homes to rest for a few hours and recruit their strength, and then be ready to form part of the crew of any other boat, and at the first summons to rush out again to the encounter with the stormiest seas." And that what the men of Deal are _par excellence_-hardy, brave, and skilful-the men of our coasts are very generally.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LOSS OF THE "ALBION" LUGGER.]

Sometimes the hovellers are distinctly a.s.sociated with the life-boat men in their efforts to save life. Gilmore cites a case where a lugger's boat had succeeded in taking a number of men off a wreck, when they themselves were caught in a squall, and were only too glad to make for the life-boat, to which the larger part were transferred. Then came a chapter of difficulties, for neither steamer nor lugger could be discovered through the fog, which obscured everything within a few yards of them. When they at length reached the _Champion_ lugger, the shipwrecked crew refused to leave the life-boat. They had been as nearly as possible wrecked a second time in the lugger's boat. What a story had these poor men to relate!

Their vessel, the _Effort_, had been beaten about for days in the North Sea previous to grounding on the fatal Goodwins. They hoisted lamps, and were preparing to set a tar-barrel on fire, when their ship, which was very light, rolled from side to side, almost yard-arms under, and then suddenly capsized altogether. "At once," said one of the narrators, "and with difficulty, we made for the weather rigging, and were glad to find that not any of the crew were lost as she fell over. We lashed ourselves to the rigging. We knew, to our great joy, that the tide was falling; had it been rising, we must have very soon been overrun by it, the vessel broken up, and every man of us lost. We were in danger enough as it was, for the brig, soon after she capsized, was caught by the tide, and worked round, with her deck towards the seas; and as the heavy seas broke over and came rushing up the deck, they fell on us with terrible weight, and beat us and crushed us against the ship's rail, so that we were forced to unlash ourselves from the rigging; and what to do we did not know, till one of us said, 'Our only chance is to lash the end of the ropes round our waists, and let go the rigging as the waves come.' And so we did; and terrible work it was. As the waves came we slackened the ropes and went away a little with them; and as they pa.s.sed, half smothered as we were, hauled ourselves back to the rigging and held on a bit; and then, when the next wave came, we let go, and were all adrift in the wash again; our hands were almost torn to pieces with the strain on the ropes and grasping at the side of the vessel.... You see, too, how our clothes were nearly dragged off us: it was indeed an awful time!" One man grew terribly excited as they told the dismal story. His limbs and features worked, and as the waves dashed over the life-boat he fancied himself being washed off the wreck, and his reason quite gave way for the time. He shouted out, "Let me drown myself! Let me drown myself! I can stand it no longer!" and was with the greatest difficulty held back by three men, who would not relinquish their hold till they got safe into harbour.

The hoveller's life is necessarily full of danger, for his services are usually only required in the very worst weather; and if he can save anything from a wreck, it will generally be done under circ.u.mstances of great difficulty. Gilmore cites an example where some of these men were endeavouring to save the rigging of a wrecked vessel, when a squall came on, with driving snow and hail. The men in the rigging were somewhat interested in their work, and were at first inclined to risk the weather, but the gale increased so rapidly that it became evident that they must leave in their boat at once. Away for their lives the men pull, the little boat seethes through the troubled waters, and they soon near the edge of the sand, and are making for deep water, when they suddenly hear the noise of the surf beating on the shallows immediately ahead of them. They pull ahead a little, and can see the huge waves rolling in out of the deep water, mounting up, curling over, and breaking, meeting other breakers, foaming up against them-in fact, a sea of raging waters surrounding the sands in which their little boat would be swamped at once. As they mount on a wave they can see the lugger riding safely just outside the surf, only a quarter of a mile off, but that quarter of a mile it is impossible for them to pa.s.s, and equally impossible for the lugger to get any nearer to them. The seas break over them constantly, and for a while they return to the dangerous shelter of the wreck.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MAP SHOWING COAST OF RAMSGATE AND THE GOODWIN SANDS.]

"The Goodwin Sands are about nine miles long; in the middle of them there is, at low water, a large lake, which is called on the chart 'Trinity Bay,' but which is known to the boatmen as the 'In-Sand.' The men row in the direction of the lake, and row over the sandbanks which surround it, as soon as the tide has flowed sufficiently to enable them to do so. Now they find themselves in completely smooth water, and are safe; but for how long? a short hour or so, for the hungry waves are following them up fast.

Still higher and higher comes the tide, and a furious surf begins to rage over the banks that for a time protect the lake." Well do the men know how short must be their period of rest.

Soon the heavy rollers come in and threaten to swamp them; the boat is nearly full of water. At this juncture the steersman, who has been steering and baling the boat for about four hours, suddenly lets the bowl with which he is baling fly from his hand; he gives a cry of horror, and the men cannot help repeating it, for may not this apparently small accident be fatal to them? To keep the boat afloat without baling is impossible; the surf breaks into her continually, and that bowl is indispensable to their safety, for the men cannot use their sou'westers for the purpose when both hands are so busily employed in freeing their oars from the seas and keeping the blades from being blown up into the air by the force of the gale. Most happily, the bowl is a wooden one, and it floats a few yards from them. The men watch it anxiously as they are tossed up and down by the quick waves. Back the boat down upon the bowl they cannot, and it is drifting away faster than they are floating. It would seem a simple matter to pick up a bowl floating within a distance so small, but the waves long render it impossible. Suddenly the c.o.xswain cries, "Here is a lull; round with her sharp!" The men on the starboard side give a mighty pull, and the others back their hardest; then a pull altogether; the bowl is within reach; the c.o.xswain grasps it with a hasty s.n.a.t.c.h. "Round! round with her quick!" and the boat is got head straight to the seas again before the waves can catch her broadside and roll her over. All breathe again: they have another chance of life.

They get clear of the Sands, but a fierce gale is still raging. "As they get into the Gull stream, they see vessel after vessel running with close-reefed topsails before the gale; the boatmen hail them, but they get no answer. One little sloop affords them slight hope, for she is evidently altering her course, but after a moment's apparent hesitation, away she goes again before the gale, and abandons them to their fate. The captain of the little vessel related afterwards how, in the height of the storm, he saw some poor fellows in a small boat, and had a great wish to try and save them, but the sea was running so high that he felt it was impossible to heave his vessel to, and so had to leave them, and that they must have been driven on the Sands and lost. This sloop was about a quarter of a mile from the boat, and the men do not again get as near to any other ship; and as vessel after vessel pa.s.ses, and the night begins to grow dark, the position of the men becomes more and more hopeless, and they all feel that if no vessel picks them up they must soon be blown in again upon the sands, and there perish." The men work on, but solemnly, very solemnly.

But one vessel, a large American ship, remains at anchor in the Downs; vessel after vessel had slipped their cables and run before the gale. It is their last hope. "As they drop slowly towards her, they shout time after time, but cannot make themselves heard, and it is getting too dusk for them to be seen at any distance; the seas are running alongside the ship almost gunwale high, and it is impossible to get nearer to her than within fifty yards. Hail after hail the men give; still they get no answer. They can see a man on the p.o.o.p, but he evidently neither sees nor hears them, and their last chance seems slipping away, for they are fast drifting past the vessel. 'Get on the thwart, d.i.c.k, and shout with all your might!' the c.o.xswain says to the man pulling stroke oar. 'I'll hold you!' hauling in his oar and catching it under the seat. The man springs upon the thwart, and balancing himself for a second, hails with all his force."

"The man is moving; he hears us, hurrah!" is the glad cry in the boat; and they can soon see several astonished faces peering over them. The boat drifts by the ship; they give a pull or two, to get her under the stern of the vessel; a coil of rope with a life-buoy is thrown to them, and they manage to get it on board. The captain is now on deck; he orders other ropes to be sent down, and soon another life-buoy, with cord attached, comes floating by. Still the boat is in great danger; their safety hitherto has been in floating with the waves, yielding to them as they rolled on, but now the little boat has to breast the waves, and is tossed high in the air, and again plunged far down, running great risk of being overturned. "The difficulty now is how to get the men out of the boat, for they dare not haul her up closer to the vessel, as she will not ride with a shorter scope of rope. They send another rope down to the boat, with a bowline knot made in it, for the men to sit in, and then shout to the men, 'We will haul you on board one at a time!'" A moment's question as to the order in which the men shall go is quickly decided, for each feels that at any moment the boat may sink or upset. They leave in the order in which they sit, and one after another they plunge into the waves, and are hauled on board, dripping, but saved! Very soon the boat fills and turns over, and hangs by the ropes till morning.

The captain will hardly credit their story at first. "Impossible!

impossible!" says he. "No boat could live in such a sea, and over the Sands. Impossible!" But he becomes convinced at last, and all on board show every attention and kindness. A little brandy and some dry clothes at once, a beefsteak supper and a gla.s.s of grog later on, followed by warm beds made up on the captain's cabin floor, and their adventures in an open boat were but the memory of a horrid dream. The c.o.xswain, however, fell very ill soon after, and was nigh death's door; he did not recover his strength for a twelvemonth, so greatly had the anxiety of that night's work told upon him.

Meantime, the lugger, after cruising backwards and forwards, the crew keeping an anxious and fruitless look-out for their comrades in the boat, is obliged to put in for Dover, from whence they telegraph the sad news that six of their men are to all appearance lost. Next morning they make one more effort to find some traces of their lost companions, and then steer, sad and disheartened, for Ramsgate. There the arrival of the lugger is most anxiously awaited. Alas! it is as they feared, and many a household is plunged in grief. While this is going on, the boatmen leave the American ship and row steadily for Ramsgate, near which they fall in with another lugger, on which they are taken. The lugger's flag is hoisted, in token that they are the bearers of good news, and great is the curiosity of the men about the harbour. A crowd hurries down the pier to watch her arrival, and as soon as the men missing from the _Princess Alice_ are recognised, the cheers and excitement are wild in the extreme.

Men rush off to bear the good news. "One poor woman, in the midst of her agony and mourning for her husband, and surrounded by her weeping friends, is surprised by her door being burst violently open, and at seeing a boatman, almost dropping with breathlessness, gasping and gesticulating and nodding, but trying in vain to speak; and it is some seconds before he can stammer out, 'All right! all right! Your husband is safe-coming now!'"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LUGGER REACHING RAMSGATE HARBOUR.]

The danger incurred by the hovellers is well ill.u.s.trated by the following example, recorded by our leading journal(76) some years since. Nine of these men endeavoured to save a sloop, the _Wool-packet_, of Dartmouth, stranded on Bideford Bar, and the crew must have lost their lives but for the n.o.ble service performed, under great risks, by Captain Thomas Jones, master of the steam-tug _Ely_, of Cardiff. A shipowner of Bideford, who was an eye-witness of the brave deed, stated that the crew of the vessel had abandoned her, and the two boats' crews, consisting of nine men, afterwards boarded the wreck, with the view of trying to get her off the bar; but when the tide rose the sea broke heavily over the vessel, and the men hoisted a flag of distress. The steam-tug _Ely_ now hastened to the rescue, against a strong tide and wind. Before, however, she could get near the wreck, the nine men were driven to seek refuge in the rigging.

The sea was breaking fearfully in all directions and the vessel rolling from side to side, but Captain Jones and his crew bravely proceeded through the broken water, at the risk of their lives and vessel, and succeeded, at the first attempt, in saving three of the men. This was all that they could then accomplish, for the sea was now breaking so furiously over the wreck that the steamer was driven away; and the same want of success attended a second and third attempt to approach the wreck. The captain then backed astern, and, with consummate skill and boldness, actually placed the steamer alongside the vessel's rigging, with her bow over the deck of the wreck, thus saving the six men in the rigging; and within the short s.p.a.ce of two minutes the wreck had actually disappeared, and was not seen afterwards. But for this bold and successful service, nine widows (for the nine rescued men were all married) and forty fatherless children would to-day be lamenting the loss of husbands and fathers. The National Life-boat Inst.i.tution presented a medal, &c., to the captain, and 1 each to the eight men forming the crew.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WRECK OF THE "WOOL-PACKET" ON BIDEFORD BAR.]

The greatness of the risk to the hoveller, and the comparative smallness of his reward, are ill.u.s.trated in the case of _La Marguerite_, a small French brig, rescued from the Goodwin Sands and brought safely into Ramsgate Harbour. She was owned by her captain, and represented to him the labours of a hardworking life. She was bound from Christiania to Dieppe, with a cargo of deals, and was considerably hampered on deck, the timber being piled up almost to her gunwale. She lost her course in the night, and grounded on the Sands. "Where are they? Where can they be? What horrible mistake have they made?" writes Mr. Gilmore in his forcible manner. "They think they must have run somewhere on the mainland on the Kent coast; one man proposes to swim ash.o.r.e with a rope, but the seas come sweeping over them with a degree of violence that quite does away with any thought of making such an attempt. They hurry to the long-boat, to try and get it out, but it and the only other boat which is in the brig are speedily swept overboard by the seas. The vessel is on the edge of the Sands, and feels all the force of the waves as they roll in and leap and break upon the bark. With every inrush of the seas she lifts high, and pitches, crushing her bow down upon the Sands, each time with a thump that makes her timbers groan, and almost sends the men flying from the deck."

For some twenty minutes she keeps thrashing on the Sands, when they glide off into deep water, and after much delay get their anchor overboard. The gale continues, and, after much entreaty-for the captain is a poor man-the crew succeed in inducing him to cut the foremast away, and the brig rides more easily when this is accomplished. They wait for daylight. They are then seen from Margate, and two fine luggers have a race to see which can get first to the vessel. The life-boat also puts off. One of the luggers gets alongside in fine shape, and the men at once recommend the captain to cut away the remaining mast, but he will not be persuaded. They raise the anchor, and pa.s.sing a hawser on board, attempt to tow the brig from the Sands, but make little progress. To their satisfaction, they see the Ramsgate steam-boat and life-boat making their way round the North Foreland.

"The coastguard officer at Margate, when he saw that the Margate life-boat could not reach the brig, and knowing that if any sea got up where the vessel was that the luggers could be of no use, telegraphed to Ramsgate that the vessel was on the Knock Sands. The steamer and life-boat get under weigh at once, and proceed as fast as possible to the rescue. There is a nasty sea running off Ramsgate, but it is not until they get to the North Foreland that they feel the full force of the gale. Here the sea is tremendous, and as the steamer pitches to it the waves that break upon her bows fly right over her funnel-indeed, she buries herself so much in the seas that they have to ease her speed considerably to prevent her being completely overrun with them." The boatmen at last get on board the brig; a glance shows that no time must be lost, and as rapidly as possible the steamer is enabled to take the water-logged vessel in tow. The French crew are utterly exhausted with fatigue and excitement, and are quite ready to leave their vessel in English hands. Away the brig goes, plunging and rolling, with the seas washing over her decks, which are scarcely out of the water, while the two boats are tossing astern, all being towed by the gallant little steamer. They have nearly reached the harbour.