Stories of the Lifeboat Part 4

Suddenly a terrific crash reminded the lifeboatmen that there were still two men and a boy on the wreck. Turning round they saw that the mainmast had given way and gone cras.h.i.+ng overboard. Startled by the suddenness of the shock the survivors supposed that the end had come, and with a blood-curdling scream of despair they rushed to the side of the vessel imploring aid. The chief mate sprang into the water and endeavoured to swim to the lifeboat. The men again laid hold of the rope and tugged with might and main to get nearer the wreck, but the storm mocked their efforts. Then they tried to throw him a line, but it fell short. Again and again they tried, but in vain. The mate battled bravely for life, and as he was a powerful man, all thought that he would succeed, but he was weakened by exposure and want of food, and his strength was rapidly failing. The lifeboatmen exerted themselves to the utmost to reach him, pulling at the rope till every vein in their bodies stood out like whipcord. Not an inch could they move the boat. The man's agonising cries for help nearly drove them mad, but they could do no more. His fate was only a matter of time, and in a few moments he sank into his watery grave, with one long shriek for help.

There were still a man and a boy on the wreck. With heavy hearts, and a dimness about the eyes that was not caused by the flying spray, the lifeboatmen once more vainly attempted to get nearer the wreck.

Following the captain's example, the man seized the rope and jumped into the water. Fortune favoured him, and though he was tossed about in a frightful manner he succeeded in pulling himself right under the bows of the lifeboat. Then his strength failed, and he would have been instantly swept away and drowned, had not one of the lifeboatmen flung himself half-way over the bow of the boat and caught the peris.h.i.+ng sailor by the collar. Stretched on the sloping foredeck of the boat he could not get sufficient purchase to drag the man on board, and indeed he felt himself slowly slipping into the sea.

"Hold me! hold me!" he cried, and several of his companions at once seized him by the legs. The weight of the man had drawn him over till his face almost touched the sea, and each successive wave threatened to suffocate him. To add to the horror of the situation, a large quant.i.ty of wreckage was seen drifting right down upon the bow of the boat towards the spot where the men were struggling. If it touched them it meant death. For a moment it seemed endued with life, and paused as if to consider its course, then just at the last minute it spun round and was borne harmlessly past.

The crew now made a desperate attempt to haul the two men on board.

Finding that the height of the bow prevented their success, they dragged them along the side of the boat to the waist, and pulled them in wet and exhausted.

The boy alone remained on the wreck, which was now fast breaking up.

How to help him was a question not easily answered, for with all their pulling they could not approach nearer the vessel. Suddenly the difficulty was solved for them in a most unexpected manner. A tremendous sea struck the vessel and swept along the deck. When the spray cleared away the boy was nowhere to be seen. Anxiously every eye watched the water, and presently a black object was seen drifting towards the boat. "There's the boy!" shouted the men in chorus. Slowly, very slowly, as it seemed to them, he drifted nearer and nearer. At length he came within reach of a boat-hook, and was lifted gently on board--unconscious, but still alive. After the usual restoratives had been applied, he revived.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SAVING THE CAPTAIN.]

Nothing more could be done at the wreck now, so the sail was hoisted and the boat's head turned towards the harbour. But their work of saving life was not yet done. As they sped along before the blast a dark object was seen tossing up and down upon the waves. They steered the boat towards it, and to their astonishment found the captain with the lifebuoy round him, still battling for life. He was hauled on board in an utterly exhausted condition. Before reaching the sh.o.r.e he revived, and told the men that his vessel was the _Providentia_, a Finland s.h.i.+p, and that he himself was a Russian Finn. The men were landed at Ramsgate in safety. A few days later, news came from Boulogne that the remainder of the crew, who had left the wreck in a boat, had been blown across the Channel and landed on the French coast.

CHAPTER XI.

A DOUBLE RESCUE.

Clang! clas.h.!.+ roar! rings out the bell at the lifeboat-house, its iron voice heard even above the thunder of the surf and the whistling wind, warning the sleeping inhabitants of Deal that a vessel has gone ash.o.r.e on the Goodwins. A ray of light gleams across the dark street as a door opens and a tall figure rushes out--it is that of a lifeboatman.

Presently he is joined by others, and all hurry on as fast as possible, in the face of the furious wind, to reach the boathouse. Each man buckles on his lifebelt, and takes his place in the lifeboat. Those who have failed to get a place help to run it down to the white line of surf, over the well-greased boards laid down on the s.h.i.+ngle. The c.o.xswain stands up in the stern with the rudder lines in his hands, watching for a favourable moment to launch. The time has come, the order is given, and away dashes the lifeboat on her glorious errand.

Onward she plunged under close-reefed sail in the direction of the flares, which the s.h.i.+pwrecked men were burning to tell the rescuers of their whereabouts. Suddenly the light went out and was seen no more. A shriek echoed over the waves, but none could say whether it was that of "some strong swimmer in his agony," or only the voice of the wind. The lifeboatmen looked around them on every side, but they could see nothing; they listened, and heard nothing; they shouted, but no answer came back. "A minute more and we would have had them," says the c.o.xswain. "Hard lines for all to perish when help was so near."

Suddenly, through the darkness, the light of another flare was seen.

The boat was at once brought round and headed for the newly-discovered wreck. It was now midnight, and the sea was like a boiling cauldron, but the fine seamans.h.i.+p of the crew was a match for the storm. Many an anxious glance was cast in the direction of the flare, and a fervent hope was in every heart that this time they would not be too late.

"Hullo! what's that?" exclaimed the lifeboatmen together, as a dark object rose in the sea between them and the flare. Another wreck! And sure enough there lay the dismasted hull of a large s.h.i.+p tossing helplessly about from side to side, with the waves das.h.i.+ng over her in spiteful fury. "Let us save the poor fellows," said the lifeboatmen.

The anchor was let go, and the boat veered down to the stern of the wreck. Then began the tug of war. "What pen can describe the turmoil, the danger, and the appalling grandeur of the scene, how black as Erebus, and again illumined by a blaze of lightning? And what pen can do justice to the stubborn courage that persevered in the work of rescue, in spite of the difficulties which at each step sprang up?"

The s.h.i.+pwrecked crew were Frenchmen, and all efforts to make them understand what was wanted of them were in vain. As they crawled along the deck to the stern of the vessel they presented a most pitiable sight, and when the lifeboatmen shouted to them to "come on and take our line," they paid no attention. Suffering and exposure seemed to have deprived them of their mental faculties. Time after time a line was thrown to them, but they allowed it to slip back into the sea, without attempting to lay hold of it. Then the boatmen saw that if these men were to be rescued, it would be by their own unaided exertions.

How the rescue was to be effected was quite another matter, but there is never a difficulty which cannot be overcome by persistence and courage.

So thought the lifeboatmen, as their boat was tossed about in that swirl of angry waters. At one minute she was swept right away from the wreck, while at another she was driven onwards and lifted upwards by a wave, till her keel touched the deck of the half-sunk vessel, from which she withdrew with a horrible grating sound. How she came through the terrible ordeal of being thrown up on the wreck time after time was a marvel, and is a splendid proof of the strength of the lifeboat.

All this time the Frenchmen stood at the stern of the s.h.i.+p eager for deliverance, but unable through fear to take any measures to accomplish it. Time was precious. Delay might mean death to those on the other vessel, so one of the lifeboatmen, named Roberts, hit upon a desperate plan for getting the crew off. Cautiously he crawled forward and took up his position on the fore air-box of the lifeboat. Now this air-box has a rounded roof, and therefore the task that Roberts set himself was one of no little difficulty, and to carry it out successfully required no ordinary amount of nerve.

Held by the strong arms of his companions he waited till the boat was carried towards the vessel, then he shouted to the sailors' to "come on!" At last they understood, and one after another they sprang into the arms stretched out to save them. Five men were taken off in this way, and as that seemed to be all that were on board, the anchor was hoisted in, the sail was set, and the lifeboat made for the other wreck, which was still showing signals of distress. So convulsive had been the grip of these five men, that Roberts' arm and chest were black and blue, and those marks of their desperation and his bravery the gallant boatman carried about with him for many a day.

It was now four o'clock in the morning, the men were ready to drop from fatigue, and the boat was seen to be much lower in the water than usual, even though she had five extra men on board. But "courage mounteth with occasion," and they forgot their weariness and the danger in the prospect of saving fellow-creatures from the watery grave which yawned around them.

At length the wreck was reached, and proved to be that of a Swedish vessel. The anchor was let go, and the lifeboat veered down as close as was prudent. Fortunately there was an English pilot on board, who knew exactly what the lifeboatmen wanted. Under his directions lines were pa.s.sed from the wreck, and the crew were speedily taken on board the boat. The captain had his wife with him, and it was with the utmost difficulty that she could be persuaded to enter into the lifeboat, which, owing to the battering it had received at the French wreck, was almost full of water. The entreaties of her husband and the boatmen at last prevailed, and she was taken on board. Then the captain followed.

No time was now lost in weighing the anchor and setting sail for home.

Slowly the lifeboat made headway against the storm, as if she was wearied and fain would rest. Just as the wintry sun glinted across the sea, the keel grated on the beach at Deal. Out sprang the lifeboatmen and dragged her into shallow water, with her burden of five Frenchmen and twelve Swedes, who were heartily welcomed, and taken where warmth and comfort awaited them.

On examination it was found that there was a hole in the bow of the boat into which a man could creep, and both her fore and aft air-boxes were full of water. Had it not been that she had still a good supply of buoyancy from the air-chambers ranged along the sides, our story would have had a far from pleasant ending. Though the boatmen had succeeded in saving seventeen lives, they were sadly disappointed that the s.h.i.+p to whose a.s.sistance they were summoned, had gone down so suddenly. It was not, however, any fault of theirs, for no time had been wasted in going to the rescue.

CHAPTER XII.

DEAL MEN TO THE RESCUE.

About ten o'clock on the night of the 11th of February 1894, signals of distress were observed from the Gull lighthouse by the look-out on Ramsgate pier. In response the lifeboat _Bradford_ was manned; but on this occasion she was found to be hard and fast on a sandbank in the harbour. The boatmen and those on the pier exerted themselves to the utmost to get her off, but it was not till eleven o'clock that she was able to proceed to sea, in tow of the tug _Aid_. She was then too late to render any a.s.sistance.

In the meantime the signals from the lights.h.i.+p had been seen at Deal, a few miles farther south. The boathouse bell was rung, there was a fierce rush of men for the cork lifebelts hanging round the walls, and ten minutes later the lifeboat _Mary Somerville_ was manned and launched. Away she flew before the heavy south-westerly gale, with Roberts, the c.o.xswain, at the helm, and was soon lost to sight in the darkness. The vessel in peril was the _Franz von Matheis_, a German schooner, bound from Sunderland to Portsmouth with a cargo of coal. She kept burning flares till the lifeboat got alongside. Then the men found that she was dragging her anchors and heading rapidly towards the Goodwins.

With great difficulty the _Mary Somerville_ shot under the lea of the vessel, and several of her crew jumped on board the s.h.i.+p, which had become unmanageable, owing to the stress of weather. The presence of the lifeboatmen put fresh strength into the exhausted muscles of the crew, and all worked together with a will in the hope of saving the vessel; but it was found impossible for lifeboatmen or crew to move about on the schooner without sustaining injury. One of the men was thrown to the deck by a terrific lurch, and had his head cut open, and every moment increased the peril. The captain therefore decided to abandon the vessel, and he, with the crew of six, were taken into the lifeboat.

Even then the danger was not over. The terrific sea and wind caused the vessel to roll tremendously. One of her yards caught the mizzenmast of the boat, and broke the fastening which kept it in its place. Down fell the mast, striking the second c.o.xswain on the head, and knocking him insensible to the bottom of the boat. For close upon an hour the gallant fellows battled with the tempest, straining every nerve to get clear. It indeed seemed as if they and the men they had with them would never again return to sh.o.r.e. Each wave drove the boat against the side of the vessel with a horrible, grinding crash. The steering-yoke was broken, and the boat-hook was snapped in two, "as you would the stem of a clay-pipe between your fingers." In trying to ward off the vessel four oars were smashed, and then the men found that their boat was being held down under the s.h.i.+p's broadside. While in this position, the tiller, which had taken the place of the steering-yoke, was sprung, a dozen or more of her stout mahogany planks were started, and her cork fender was torn to pieces.

At last they cleared the vessel, and as it was impossible, owing to the fury of the gale, to return to Deal, they made all sail for Ramsgate harbour. Here they landed the rescued men at a quarter-past one in the morning. During the day the _Mary Somerville_ was taken back to Deal.

No more vivid picture of the perils through which the lifeboatmen pa.s.sed could be desired than that of the bruised and battered lifeboat, as she lay high and dry in the boathouse that afternoon. The _Franz von Matheis_ seems afterwards to have got a firm hold, for she remained riding at anchor very close to the sands. At daybreak next morning a tug was seen endeavouring to take the abandoned s.h.i.+p in tow, and about four o'clock in the afternoon she was brought into Ramsgate harbour.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE WRECK OF THE "BENVENUE."

The s.h.i.+p _Benvenue_ of Glasgow was being towed through the Straits of Dover on Nov. 11th, 1891, when a terrible gale sprang up. Arriving off Sandgate, the vessel became quite unmanageable, and it was decided to lie-to and wait until the fury of the storm had pa.s.sed. Two anchors were accordingly let go, but these, even with the a.s.sistance of the tug, were not powerful enough to hold her. Nearer and nearer to the sh.o.r.e she drifted. Then with a tremendous lurch she struck and began to settle down. Fifteen minutes later she foundered.

The crew were ordered to go aloft as quickly as they could, for in the rigging lay their only chance of safety. The men promptly obeyed, and secured themselves with las.h.i.+ngs; some of them got into the topsail yards, and fastened themselves in the sails. A rocket was sent up before the s.h.i.+p went down, to tell those on sh.o.r.e that help was needed, and soon an answering streak of flame shot across the sky. Though they were in such a perilous position, the men were not at all excited, but watched with eager eyes the movements of the people on the beach.

The day wore on, and still no help arrived. Several of the crew unlashed themselves and came down from the rigging, with the intention of swimming ash.o.r.e. Such an attempt was useless in the terrific sea that was running, but they all had lifebelts on, and were determined to overcome the danger. Bravely they battled for life amid the seething waters, but it was in vain. One poor fellow was seen swimming about with blood trickling down his face. He must have been dashed against the s.h.i.+p's rail. A mighty wave came thundering down, for a moment he was visible upon its foamy crest, and then he disappeared for ever.

Another man succeeded in getting half-way to the sh.o.r.e, when he was seen to throw up his arms, and the waters closed over him. All who made the attempt shared a similar fate.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A PERILOUS REFUGE.]

The sea was now close up to the mizzentop where the survivors were standing, and every moment they expected that the mast would go by the board. With the setting of the sun the hope of being rescued, which had buoyed them up throughout the weary hours of that long day, died out, and their spirits sank to the depths of despair. They were almost perished with cold and faint with hunger, and as no help came they gave themselves up for lost.

What were the lifeboatmen doing all this time? Surely they were not going to let fellow-creatures perish without an effort to save them?

No! Early that morning the lifeboat had put off from Sandgate to the a.s.sistance of the _Benvenue_, but such terrific seas were encountered that she was driven back to the sh.o.r.e. As it was considered impossible to launch again at Sandgate, the boat was put on the carriage and conveyed to Hythe.

At half-past nine she was launched, manned by a crew of twenty men. The sea was, however, heavier than that experienced at Sandgate, and before the boat could get clear of the surf, she was struck by a heavy wave and capsized. The whole of her crew with the exception of three men, were thrown into the water. Nineteen of them managed to reach the land, but the other poor fellow lost his life in the raging breakers. The boat was then brought ash.o.r.e and replaced on the carriage. Though repulsed, the lifeboatmen were not beaten, and they remained by their boat all day, ready to launch on the first favourable opportunity. It was not, however, until half-past nine at night, exactly twelve hours since the second attempt had been made, that their patience was rewarded. Then, as the sea had considerably moderated, it was decided to make another attempt to rescue the s.h.i.+pwrecked crew.

With the utmost difficulty the boat was got off, and for a time failure seemed certain. The gallant lifeboatmen persevered, and, bending to the oars with all the strength of their muscular arms, won the victory. The s.h.i.+p was reached, and the twenty-seven survivors, out of the crew of thirty-two men, were taken into the lifeboat. They had watched with eager eyes the almost superhuman efforts that were being made on their behalf, and when they found themselves safe on board, the pent-up feelings of many found vent in tears.