Chapter 3

[image]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 shore he revived, and told the men that his vessel was theProvidentia, a Finland ship, 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.[image]lang! clash! 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 ashore 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 shingle. The coxswain 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 shipwrecked 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 coxswain. "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 seamanship 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 ship tossing helplessly about from side to side, with the waves dashing 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 shipwrecked 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 ship 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 passed 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 ship to whose assistance 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.[image]bout 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 lifeboatBradfordwas 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 tugAid. She was then too late to render any assistance.In the meantime the signals from the lightship 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 lifeboatMary Somervillewas manned and launched. Away she flew before the heavy south-westerly gale, with Roberts, the coxswain, at the helm, and was soon lost to sight in the darkness. The vessel in peril was theFranz 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 theMary Somervilleshot under the lea of the vessel, and several of her crew jumped on board the ship, 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 coxswain 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 shore. 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 ship'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 theMary Somervillewas taken back to Deal. No more vivid picture of the perils through which the lifeboatmen passed could be desired than that of the bruised and battered lifeboat, as she lay high and dry in the boathouse that afternoon. TheFranz von Matheisseems 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 ship in tow, and about four o'clock in the afternoon she was brought into Ramsgate harbour.CHAPTER XIII.THE WRECK OF THE "BENVENUE."[image]he shipBenvenueof 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 passed. Two anchors were accordingly let go, but these, even with the assistance of the tug, were not powerful enough to hold her. Nearer and nearer to the shore 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 lashings; some of them got into the topsail yards, and fastened themselves in the sails. A rocket was sent up before the ship went down, to tell those on shore 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 ashore. 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 ship'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 shore, when he was seen to throw up his arms, and the waters closed over him. All who made the attempt shared a similar fate.[image]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 assistance of theBenvenue, but such terrific seas were encountered that she was driven back to the shore. 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 ashore 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 shipwrecked 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 ship 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.The scene on the landing of the lifeboat at Folkestone baffles description. Thousands of people had assembled at the harbour, and as soon as the boat appeared, cheer after cheer was raised, and rescuers and rescued were quickly brought ashore. The former received the hearty congratulations of everyone. The latter appeared too exhausted to bear the excitement of the moment, so they were at once conducted to a place where they received the care they needed after their exposure to the wind and waves.Next morning the crew wrote a letter of thanks to all who had taken part in their rescue, in the following terms, touching in their simplicity,--"We desire to tender our heartfelt gratitude for the way in which we have been rescued and cared for by the crew of the lifeboat, and the others who assisted in our rescue."At noon a special service of thanksgiving was held in the parish church, Folkestone, and as the men bad lost all their belongings, a collection was made on their behalf.CHAPTER XIV.THE STRANDING OF THE "EIDER."[image]n the night of Sunday the 31st of January 1892, the North-German Lloyd linerEider, bound from New York to Southampton, stranded on a reef of rocks off the Isle of Wight. A dense fog prevailed at the time, and a very rough sea was running. Signal rockets were immediately sent up, and about eleven o'clock the Atherfield lifeboat proceeded to her assistance. There was no immediate danger to the passengers and crew, so the captain decided to telegraph for steam tugs. The telegrams were accordingly handed into the lifeboat, and she returned to the shore to send them off.At daylight next morning signals were made by theEider, and the lifeboat again went out, and found that the captain wished to land some of the mails, and they were therefore brought ashore. Meanwhile news of the stranding of the steamer had been sent to the lifeboat stations at Brighstone Grange and Brooke, and these lifeboats at once put off and made for the scene of the disaster with all speed. The captain of theEiderthen decided that it would be best to land the passengers, and during the day the lifeboats made altogether eighteen trips to the ship, and safely landed two hundred and thirty-three passengers, besides specie and mails. Darkness, however, came on and put an end to the work.The next day eleven journeys were performed by the lifeboats, and one hundred and forty-six people were brought to land without accident. During Wednesday and Thursday the boats were engaged in bringing ashore bars of silver, specie, the ship's plate, and passengers' luggage. Forty-one journeys in all were made by the gallant lifeboatmen, who worked hard and nobly, and rescued three hundred and seventy-nine persons. The captain and several of the crew remained on board, and the vessel was eventually towed off the rocks and safely berthed in Southampton docks.In recognition of the devotion to duty and self-sacrifice shown by the lifeboatmen in the work of rescue, the Emperor of Germany presented each of the coxswains of the three lifeboats with a gold watch bearing His Majesty's portrait and initials. The institution also awarded the second-service clasp to the coxswain of the Atherfield lifeboat, the silver medal to the coxswain of the Brighstone Grange lifeboat, and the third-service clasp to the coxswain of the Brooke lifeboat.We reproduce the following poem on the stranding of theEider, by special permission, fromThe Star:--TheEiderrode on the open seaWith her safety in God's own handFor a thousand miles--ay, two, and three,With never a sight of land.A shell of steel on the world of wavesThat severs the hemispheres,That covers the depths of a thousand gravesAnd the wrecks of a hundred years.She bore, unhurt, through the storm-god's din,Through shower, and shade, and sheen,With the death without and her lives within,And her inch of steel between.From the port behind, to the port beyond,With never a help or guide,Save the needle's point and the chart he conned,The master has fought the tide.On the bridge, in the Sunday twilight dim,He has taken his watchful stand;And he hears the sound of a German hymn,And the boom of a brazen band.He looks for the lights of the royal isle,Ahead, to left, and to right;Below there is music and mirthful smile,For land must be soon in sight.In sight? Not yet! for a fog creeps roundAnd the night is doubly dark."Slow speed! Hush! is it the fog-bell's sound,Or the shriek of the siren? Hark!"The fog-bell clangs from its seaward tower,And the siren shrills in fear;But the vapours thicken from hour to hour,And the master cannot hear!On the seaward headland, the beacon's blazeLike a midday sun would seem,But its warning rays are lost in the haze,And the master sees no gleam!"How goes the line? There is time to save!""It is ten fathom deep by the log.""We have not tarried for wind or wave,We cannot wait for the fog."On, on! through the dark of a double night;On, on--to the lurking rock!No sound, no gleam of a saving lightTill theEiderleaps to the shock.All night she bides where the sea death hides,And her passengers crowd her deck;While the leaping tides laugh over her sidesAnd sink from the stranded wreck.TheEiderhas gold, she has human lives;But these can assist no more.Pray, pray, ye German children and wives,For help from the English shore!A signal is sent, and a signal is seen,And a lifeboat--ay, two, and three,From the shore to the vessel their crews row between,And fight with the stormy sea.They fight day and night, as true Englishmen can,'Mid the roar of the storm-lash'd waves;And theEider'sfour hundred are saved to a manFrom the terror of sea-bed graves.TheEiderbides, all broken and bent;With the tide she shivers and starts,And stands--for a time--as a monumentOf the courage of English hearts.But longer lasting, the memoried graceOf a noble deed and grandWill knit the hearts of the English raceTo the hearts of the Fatherland!CHAPTER XV.THE WRECK OF THE "NORTHERN BELLE."[image]uring a dreadful storm which swept over the British Isles several years ago, the American shipNorthern Belle, from New York to London, came to anchor off Kingsgate, near Broadstairs, about a mile from the shore. The sea made great breaches over her, and, in order to lighten the vessel and help her to ride out the storm, the crew cut away two of the masts. With the flood-tide, however, the gale increased, and it was feared that the vessel would drag her anchors and come ashore. A swift-footed messenger was accordingly despatched to summon the Broadstairs lifeboat.Without delay the crew were mustered, and the boat, on her carriage, was dragged overland to Kingsgate, a distance of two miles. It was nine o'clock when theMary Whitearrived, and by that time the cliffs were lined with crowds of people. Shortly afterwards two luggers were seen bearing down upon the unfortunate vessel. One of these crafts, when trying to take out one of the ship's anchors, was overwhelmed by a heavy sea, and sank. Not one of her crew of nine men were ever seen again. The other was more successful, and five of her crew managed to get on board theNorthern Belle. Every moment the multitude of spectators expected to see the vessel run ashore and be dashed to pieces on the rocks at the foot of the cliff; but as the day wore on and the anchors still held, it was thought that she would yet be safe. Heedless of the heavy snow and bitter cold, the people watched her till darkness came on and shut out the vessel from their gaze.[image]THEY BENT THEIR BACKS TO THE OARS.About midnight, the long-expected catastrophe took place, the cable broke and the vessel was driven on the rocks. In the storm and darkness it would have been worse than useless to launch the lifeboat, so the men were reluctantly compelled to put off the rescue till a new day should give them sufficient light to see what they were doing. Next morning, about seven o'clock, the remains of the ill-fated ship could be seen, and lashed to the only remaining mast were the figures of twenty-three perishing sailors. What they must have suffered in the cold and darkness of that terrible night may be imagined, but it cannot be described.The lifeboat was dragged down to the water's edge, and the crew got into their places. The coxswain stood up in the stern, grasping the yoke lines, and watching for a favourable moment to put off. The faces of the men were grave, for they knew the terrific struggle that was before them, and, with such a high sea running, who knew if they would come back again? The coxswain gave the word, and the boat was pushed off into the raging surf. The boatmen bent their backs and made headway in spite of the storm. Over and over again they were lost to sight, and those on shore were filled with fear for their safety, but the good boat breasted each wave gallantly, and quickly drew near to the wreck.Great difficulty was experienced in getting alongside, and in the struggle the bow of the lifeboat was badly damaged, but at last the boat was made fast. The poor sailors were so benumbed by their long exposure to cold that they were almost helpless, and this made the task of the boatmen still more difficult. At length, after tremendous exertions, they succeeded in taking off seven of the crew. On account of the broken condition of the boat and the high sea, it was not judged prudent to take more, so she was cut adrift from the wreck and returned to the shore with her precious burden.Fearing that an accident might happen to theMary Whiteand disable her for further service, a second lifeboat had been brought over from Broadstairs. She was now launched, and made for the wreck, from which she shortly afterwards returned with fourteen men. Only two sailors now remained on board, the aged captain and the pilot. The former stubbornly refused to leave his ship, declaring that he would rather be drowned; and the latter said that he was not going to leave the old man to perish by himself.The coxswain allowed two hours to pass, expecting that the captain would change his mind and signal for them to come and take him off; but when he showed no signs of yielding, he called the men together and launched the lifeboat. After a stiff pull they reached the wreck, and tried to persuade the captain to save himself, but he remained obstinate. Then the men declared that they would remain by the wreck as long as she held together, even if they waited a week. The coxswain pointed out to the captain that he was not only throwing his own life away for no good reason, but that he was also endangering the lives of those in the boat, and he told him that it was his duty to save himself. At length he was persuaded of the folly of his action, and came down from the rigging. The pilot, whose chivalrous feelings alone had kept him in this perilous position, also gladly entered the saving boat.Great were the rejoicings on the beach when it became known that the whole crew had now been rescued. The shipwrecked men were taken to a house near at hand, but they were so exhausted that they were unable to eat.Shortly afterwards three horses were harnessed to the transporting carriage of theMary White, and she was taken back to Broadstairs. As she approached the town, the people came out to meet her, and with cheers loud and long welcomed the heroes home.An eye-witness of the rescue says: "The lifeboatmen were not labouring under any species of excitement when they engaged in the perilous duty, which they performed so nobly and so well. Under the impression that these men would never return,--the impression of all who witnessed their departure from the shore,--I watched their countenances closely. There was nothing approaching bravado in their looks, nothing to give a spectator any idea that they were about to engage in a matter of life or death, to themselves and the crew of the ship clinging to the fore-rigging of theNorthern Belle. They had no hope of a decoration or of a pecuniary reward when, with a coolness of manner and a calmness of mind which contrasted strongly with the energy of their movements, they bounded into the lifeboat to storm batteries of billows far more appalling to the human mind than batteries surmounted by cannon and bristling with bayonets. There could be no question about the heroism of these men."CHAPTER XVI.A GALLANT RESCUE.[image]hortly after daybreak, on the 4th January 1894, the lookout on the pier at Clacton-on-Sea saw a vessel strike on the Buxey Sand, about six miles from the shore. Without a moment's delay the warning was given, the lifeboat,Albert Edward, was manned and launched. There was need of the utmost speed. A strong easterly gale was raging at the time, accompanied by a nipping frost and blinding snowstorm. Owing to the extreme cold, it was feared that the shipwrecked crew would be unable to hold on till help arrived.When the lifeboat reached the distressed vessel, it was found to be impossible to get alongside, so the coxswain ordered the anchor to be let go to windward. This was done, and the boat veered down to the full length of her cable. The waves continually broke over the vessel, and caused her to bump upon the sand in a frightful manner, thus preventing the lifeboat from approaching her. Under these circumstances, the boatmen decided to haul in the cable, and to drop the anchor nearer the vessel. This was a work of no little difficulty, and was rendered on this occasion highly dangerous by the anchor having fouled something on the sand. They tugged and strained for some time, but all to no purpose, and they were at last compelled to cut the rope. The sail was then set, and the lifeboat proceeded to the leeside of the ship.There everything was in a terrible muddle, for the masts and rigging, which hung over the bulwarks, swayed about, threatening death to anyone who ventured within their reach. The sea was running too high to permit the men to board the ship, but by ebb-tide the coxswain thought that the sea would become smoother, and thus enable him to rescue the men at less risk. The crew of the vessel were nearly frozen to death, and it seemed as if they could not hold out much longer. The coxswain made signs to the poor fellows to fasten a buoy to a line, and slack it away from the ship towards the lifeboat. His signs were understood and promptly obeyed, but unfortunately the line caught in the rigging alongside and stuck fast.The resources of the lifeboatmen were not yet exhausted. Sailing as close as possible to the vessel, they threw out a grappling line, which luckily caught on, and the boat was held. The coxswain shouted to the sailors to make another rope fast, but they paid no heed to his order. No sooner did they perceive that the boat was fixed than they began to crawl along the mast. Only one man had been taken on board, when a heavy sea swept down upon the lifeboat. The rope which fastened her to the wreck was not strong enough to bear the strain, and once more theAlbert Edwardwas driven from the ship.Canvas was again set to windward for about half an hour, and then the boat was headed for the wreck. The tide was now on the ebb, and less difficulty was experienced in getting a hold on the ship. One by one the poor fellows were taken on board the lifeboat, till only the captain remained. He was an old man, and so exhausted by suffering that he was unable to jump for the boat. A line was therefore thrown to him which he fastened round his waist, and the coxswain went to assist him over the rail of the ship. Just as he was in the act of performing this humane service he was knocked overboard by a sudden lurch. As he struggled in the water, he received a severe blow on the head and a wound across the eye from pieces of floating wreckage. His case was desperate, but he did not lose his presence of mind for a moment. Seizing hold of the rope which was made fast round the captain, he managed to keep himself afloat till his companions rescued him from his perilous position. Nothing daunted, he then made further efforts to save the captain, who was at length hauled through the surf and lifted on board in safety.Just as this was accomplished, a heavy sea snapped the rope, and the lifeboat left the wreck, having on board the whole crew of seven men. In getting off the sands, on her homeward journey, the boat was frequently smothered by the heavy seas, and several of the men were badly hurt by being dashed against the side. At length, after a long, toilsome struggle, the harbour was reached, the lifeboat and her crew being covered with ice. In spite of the severity of the weather, a number of people were on the pier to give the heroes a hearty reception. The shipwrecked men, who were completely exhausted, were supplied with food and put to bed to recover from the effects of their exposure and fatigue. Their vessel was the St. Alexine of Copenhagen, bound for Stranraer with deals.CHAPTER XVII.A BUSY DAY.[image]n the early morning of the 7th of November 1890, while one of the severest storms known for years on the coast of Lancashire was at its height, signal flares were observed about three miles out at sea. A gun was fired to arouse the lifeboatmen, and in a few minutes the Fleetwood boat was launched and hurrying on her errand of mercy in the wake of a steam-tug. It was almost dark at the time, and the two vessels were quickly lost to view. The news rapidly spread that the lifeboat had been summoned, and soon a number of people were making their way to the beach in the hope of catching a sight of the distressed vessel.It was not until seven o'clock that the hull of a large barque loomed in sight to those on shore, and it was then evident that but for the gallant services of the lifeboatmen all on board would be lost. Having got well to windward, the tow-rope was let go, and the boat drifted gradually down to the wreck. Here lay the real danger, and it required all the seamanship of the coxswain to prevent the boat from being dashed against the side of the ill-fated vessel, or swept past the mark by the force of the sea. When within a short distance, the boat was brought to an anchor, and veered down on her cable close to the wreck, which was found to be theLabora, a Norwegian ship.The work of rescue was promptly begun, and as it was found to be utterly impossible for the lifeboat to approach near enough to take the men off, the coxswain shouted to the sailors to throw him a line. A lifebuoy was accordingly thrown overboard with a rope attached, and floated to the boat. Communication having been thus established, the crew were dragged through the surf in safety. The work of rescue lasted above two hours, and the boat was repeatedly filled with water, so that the fact that not a single life was lost reflects great credit on the seamanship of the coxswain and his men. The whole crew of theLabora, thirteen in number, were taken on board, the captain being the last man to leave the ship.Sail was then hoisted on the lifeboat, and she made for the shore with all speed. Notwithstanding the gale and the driving rain, hundreds of spectators had assembled along the beach to await the return of the boat. When at length she appeared, she was greeted with shouts of joy, and landed the rescued crew amid a perfect salvo of cheering.A few hours later, news of another wreck was brought to Fleetwood. Utterly regardless of their rough experience in the early morning, the crew again donned their lifebelts and manned the lifeboat. As they were towed out by the steamer, a magnificent sight was witnessed, the waves dashing furiously over the boat as she ploughed her way through the water, and both vessels were often completely hidden from sight by the seas breaking over them.[image]SIGHTING THE WRECK.Regardless of the drenching they received, they held resolutely on their way, and soon the distance of five miles which intervened between them and the wreck was covered. The crew hailed the approach of the saving boat with loud cheers, but great difficulty was experienced in effecting the rescue, as all the masts and rigging were dashing about alongside the ship. To avoid the wreckage striking the lifeboat, and at the same time to get sufficiently near for the sailors to jump aboard, required great skill and judgment, as well as a cool head and a steady nerve.Owing to the position in which the stranded vessel was lying, every sea broke over her, and threatened to swamp the lifeboat. Eventually the whole crew of eleven men were rescued, and the lifeboat was headed for the shore, where the crew were landed in a most exhausted condition. But for the brave efforts and untiring exertions of the lifeboatmen, the crews of both of those vessels would have been lost, and well might the noble fellows congratulate themselves on having within a few short hours saved twenty-four of their fellow-men from death.

[image]SAVING THE CAPTAIN.

[image]

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 shore he revived, and told the men that his vessel was theProvidentia, a Finland ship, 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.

[image]lang! clash! 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 ashore 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 shingle. The coxswain 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.

[image]

Onward she plunged under close-reefed sail in the direction of the flares, which the shipwrecked 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 coxswain. "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 seamanship 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 ship tossing helplessly about from side to side, with the waves dashing 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 shipwrecked 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 ship 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 passed 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 ship to whose assistance 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.

[image]bout 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 lifeboatBradfordwas 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 tugAid. She was then too late to render any assistance.

[image]

In the meantime the signals from the lightship 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 lifeboatMary Somervillewas manned and launched. Away she flew before the heavy south-westerly gale, with Roberts, the coxswain, at the helm, and was soon lost to sight in the darkness. The vessel in peril was theFranz 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 theMary Somervilleshot under the lea of the vessel, and several of her crew jumped on board the ship, 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 coxswain 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 shore. 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 ship'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 theMary Somervillewas taken back to Deal. No more vivid picture of the perils through which the lifeboatmen passed could be desired than that of the bruised and battered lifeboat, as she lay high and dry in the boathouse that afternoon. TheFranz von Matheisseems 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 ship in tow, and about four o'clock in the afternoon she was brought into Ramsgate harbour.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE WRECK OF THE "BENVENUE."

[image]he shipBenvenueof 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 passed. Two anchors were accordingly let go, but these, even with the assistance of the tug, were not powerful enough to hold her. Nearer and nearer to the shore she drifted. Then with a tremendous lurch she struck and began to settle down. Fifteen minutes later she foundered.

[image]

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 lashings; some of them got into the topsail yards, and fastened themselves in the sails. A rocket was sent up before the ship went down, to tell those on shore 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 ashore. 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 ship'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 shore, when he was seen to throw up his arms, and the waters closed over him. All who made the attempt shared a similar fate.

[image]A PERILOUS REFUGE.

[image]

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 assistance of theBenvenue, but such terrific seas were encountered that she was driven back to the shore. 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 ashore 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 shipwrecked 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 ship 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.

The scene on the landing of the lifeboat at Folkestone baffles description. Thousands of people had assembled at the harbour, and as soon as the boat appeared, cheer after cheer was raised, and rescuers and rescued were quickly brought ashore. The former received the hearty congratulations of everyone. The latter appeared too exhausted to bear the excitement of the moment, so they were at once conducted to a place where they received the care they needed after their exposure to the wind and waves.

Next morning the crew wrote a letter of thanks to all who had taken part in their rescue, in the following terms, touching in their simplicity,--

"We desire to tender our heartfelt gratitude for the way in which we have been rescued and cared for by the crew of the lifeboat, and the others who assisted in our rescue."

At noon a special service of thanksgiving was held in the parish church, Folkestone, and as the men bad lost all their belongings, a collection was made on their behalf.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE STRANDING OF THE "EIDER."

[image]n the night of Sunday the 31st of January 1892, the North-German Lloyd linerEider, bound from New York to Southampton, stranded on a reef of rocks off the Isle of Wight. A dense fog prevailed at the time, and a very rough sea was running. Signal rockets were immediately sent up, and about eleven o'clock the Atherfield lifeboat proceeded to her assistance. There was no immediate danger to the passengers and crew, so the captain decided to telegraph for steam tugs. The telegrams were accordingly handed into the lifeboat, and she returned to the shore to send them off.

[image]

At daylight next morning signals were made by theEider, and the lifeboat again went out, and found that the captain wished to land some of the mails, and they were therefore brought ashore. Meanwhile news of the stranding of the steamer had been sent to the lifeboat stations at Brighstone Grange and Brooke, and these lifeboats at once put off and made for the scene of the disaster with all speed. The captain of theEiderthen decided that it would be best to land the passengers, and during the day the lifeboats made altogether eighteen trips to the ship, and safely landed two hundred and thirty-three passengers, besides specie and mails. Darkness, however, came on and put an end to the work.

The next day eleven journeys were performed by the lifeboats, and one hundred and forty-six people were brought to land without accident. During Wednesday and Thursday the boats were engaged in bringing ashore bars of silver, specie, the ship's plate, and passengers' luggage. Forty-one journeys in all were made by the gallant lifeboatmen, who worked hard and nobly, and rescued three hundred and seventy-nine persons. The captain and several of the crew remained on board, and the vessel was eventually towed off the rocks and safely berthed in Southampton docks.

In recognition of the devotion to duty and self-sacrifice shown by the lifeboatmen in the work of rescue, the Emperor of Germany presented each of the coxswains of the three lifeboats with a gold watch bearing His Majesty's portrait and initials. The institution also awarded the second-service clasp to the coxswain of the Atherfield lifeboat, the silver medal to the coxswain of the Brighstone Grange lifeboat, and the third-service clasp to the coxswain of the Brooke lifeboat.

We reproduce the following poem on the stranding of theEider, by special permission, fromThe Star:--

TheEiderrode on the open seaWith her safety in God's own handFor a thousand miles--ay, two, and three,With never a sight of land.A shell of steel on the world of wavesThat severs the hemispheres,That covers the depths of a thousand gravesAnd the wrecks of a hundred years.She bore, unhurt, through the storm-god's din,Through shower, and shade, and sheen,With the death without and her lives within,And her inch of steel between.From the port behind, to the port beyond,With never a help or guide,Save the needle's point and the chart he conned,The master has fought the tide.On the bridge, in the Sunday twilight dim,He has taken his watchful stand;And he hears the sound of a German hymn,And the boom of a brazen band.He looks for the lights of the royal isle,Ahead, to left, and to right;Below there is music and mirthful smile,For land must be soon in sight.In sight? Not yet! for a fog creeps roundAnd the night is doubly dark."Slow speed! Hush! is it the fog-bell's sound,Or the shriek of the siren? Hark!"The fog-bell clangs from its seaward tower,And the siren shrills in fear;But the vapours thicken from hour to hour,And the master cannot hear!On the seaward headland, the beacon's blazeLike a midday sun would seem,But its warning rays are lost in the haze,And the master sees no gleam!"How goes the line? There is time to save!""It is ten fathom deep by the log.""We have not tarried for wind or wave,We cannot wait for the fog."On, on! through the dark of a double night;On, on--to the lurking rock!No sound, no gleam of a saving lightTill theEiderleaps to the shock.All night she bides where the sea death hides,And her passengers crowd her deck;While the leaping tides laugh over her sidesAnd sink from the stranded wreck.TheEiderhas gold, she has human lives;But these can assist no more.Pray, pray, ye German children and wives,For help from the English shore!A signal is sent, and a signal is seen,And a lifeboat--ay, two, and three,From the shore to the vessel their crews row between,And fight with the stormy sea.They fight day and night, as true Englishmen can,'Mid the roar of the storm-lash'd waves;And theEider'sfour hundred are saved to a manFrom the terror of sea-bed graves.TheEiderbides, all broken and bent;With the tide she shivers and starts,And stands--for a time--as a monumentOf the courage of English hearts.But longer lasting, the memoried graceOf a noble deed and grandWill knit the hearts of the English raceTo the hearts of the Fatherland!

TheEiderrode on the open seaWith her safety in God's own handFor a thousand miles--ay, two, and three,With never a sight of land.

TheEiderrode on the open sea

With her safety in God's own hand

For a thousand miles--ay, two, and three,

With never a sight of land.

A shell of steel on the world of wavesThat severs the hemispheres,That covers the depths of a thousand gravesAnd the wrecks of a hundred years.

A shell of steel on the world of waves

That severs the hemispheres,

That covers the depths of a thousand graves

And the wrecks of a hundred years.

She bore, unhurt, through the storm-god's din,Through shower, and shade, and sheen,With the death without and her lives within,And her inch of steel between.

She bore, unhurt, through the storm-god's din,

Through shower, and shade, and sheen,

With the death without and her lives within,

And her inch of steel between.

From the port behind, to the port beyond,With never a help or guide,Save the needle's point and the chart he conned,The master has fought the tide.

From the port behind, to the port beyond,

With never a help or guide,

Save the needle's point and the chart he conned,

The master has fought the tide.

On the bridge, in the Sunday twilight dim,He has taken his watchful stand;And he hears the sound of a German hymn,And the boom of a brazen band.

On the bridge, in the Sunday twilight dim,

He has taken his watchful stand;

And he hears the sound of a German hymn,

And the boom of a brazen band.

He looks for the lights of the royal isle,Ahead, to left, and to right;Below there is music and mirthful smile,For land must be soon in sight.

He looks for the lights of the royal isle,

Ahead, to left, and to right;

Below there is music and mirthful smile,

For land must be soon in sight.

In sight? Not yet! for a fog creeps roundAnd the night is doubly dark."Slow speed! Hush! is it the fog-bell's sound,Or the shriek of the siren? Hark!"

In sight? Not yet! for a fog creeps round

And the night is doubly dark.

"Slow speed! Hush! is it the fog-bell's sound,

Or the shriek of the siren? Hark!"

The fog-bell clangs from its seaward tower,And the siren shrills in fear;But the vapours thicken from hour to hour,And the master cannot hear!

The fog-bell clangs from its seaward tower,

And the siren shrills in fear;

But the vapours thicken from hour to hour,

And the master cannot hear!

On the seaward headland, the beacon's blazeLike a midday sun would seem,But its warning rays are lost in the haze,And the master sees no gleam!

On the seaward headland, the beacon's blaze

Like a midday sun would seem,

But its warning rays are lost in the haze,

And the master sees no gleam!

"How goes the line? There is time to save!""It is ten fathom deep by the log.""We have not tarried for wind or wave,We cannot wait for the fog."

"How goes the line? There is time to save!"

"It is ten fathom deep by the log."

"We have not tarried for wind or wave,

We cannot wait for the fog."

On, on! through the dark of a double night;On, on--to the lurking rock!No sound, no gleam of a saving lightTill theEiderleaps to the shock.

On, on! through the dark of a double night;

On, on--to the lurking rock!

No sound, no gleam of a saving light

Till theEiderleaps to the shock.

All night she bides where the sea death hides,And her passengers crowd her deck;While the leaping tides laugh over her sidesAnd sink from the stranded wreck.

All night she bides where the sea death hides,

And her passengers crowd her deck;

While the leaping tides laugh over her sides

And sink from the stranded wreck.

TheEiderhas gold, she has human lives;But these can assist no more.Pray, pray, ye German children and wives,For help from the English shore!

TheEiderhas gold, she has human lives;

But these can assist no more.

Pray, pray, ye German children and wives,

For help from the English shore!

A signal is sent, and a signal is seen,And a lifeboat--ay, two, and three,From the shore to the vessel their crews row between,And fight with the stormy sea.

A signal is sent, and a signal is seen,

And a lifeboat--ay, two, and three,

From the shore to the vessel their crews row between,

And fight with the stormy sea.

They fight day and night, as true Englishmen can,'Mid the roar of the storm-lash'd waves;And theEider'sfour hundred are saved to a manFrom the terror of sea-bed graves.

They fight day and night, as true Englishmen can,

'Mid the roar of the storm-lash'd waves;

And theEider'sfour hundred are saved to a man

From the terror of sea-bed graves.

TheEiderbides, all broken and bent;With the tide she shivers and starts,And stands--for a time--as a monumentOf the courage of English hearts.

TheEiderbides, all broken and bent;

With the tide she shivers and starts,

And stands--for a time--as a monument

Of the courage of English hearts.

But longer lasting, the memoried graceOf a noble deed and grandWill knit the hearts of the English raceTo the hearts of the Fatherland!

But longer lasting, the memoried grace

Of a noble deed and grand

Will knit the hearts of the English race

To the hearts of the Fatherland!

CHAPTER XV.

THE WRECK OF THE "NORTHERN BELLE."

[image]uring a dreadful storm which swept over the British Isles several years ago, the American shipNorthern Belle, from New York to London, came to anchor off Kingsgate, near Broadstairs, about a mile from the shore. The sea made great breaches over her, and, in order to lighten the vessel and help her to ride out the storm, the crew cut away two of the masts. With the flood-tide, however, the gale increased, and it was feared that the vessel would drag her anchors and come ashore. A swift-footed messenger was accordingly despatched to summon the Broadstairs lifeboat.

[image]

Without delay the crew were mustered, and the boat, on her carriage, was dragged overland to Kingsgate, a distance of two miles. It was nine o'clock when theMary Whitearrived, and by that time the cliffs were lined with crowds of people. Shortly afterwards two luggers were seen bearing down upon the unfortunate vessel. One of these crafts, when trying to take out one of the ship's anchors, was overwhelmed by a heavy sea, and sank. Not one of her crew of nine men were ever seen again. The other was more successful, and five of her crew managed to get on board theNorthern Belle. Every moment the multitude of spectators expected to see the vessel run ashore and be dashed to pieces on the rocks at the foot of the cliff; but as the day wore on and the anchors still held, it was thought that she would yet be safe. Heedless of the heavy snow and bitter cold, the people watched her till darkness came on and shut out the vessel from their gaze.

[image]THEY BENT THEIR BACKS TO THE OARS.

[image]

THEY BENT THEIR BACKS TO THE OARS.

About midnight, the long-expected catastrophe took place, the cable broke and the vessel was driven on the rocks. In the storm and darkness it would have been worse than useless to launch the lifeboat, so the men were reluctantly compelled to put off the rescue till a new day should give them sufficient light to see what they were doing. Next morning, about seven o'clock, the remains of the ill-fated ship could be seen, and lashed to the only remaining mast were the figures of twenty-three perishing sailors. What they must have suffered in the cold and darkness of that terrible night may be imagined, but it cannot be described.

The lifeboat was dragged down to the water's edge, and the crew got into their places. The coxswain stood up in the stern, grasping the yoke lines, and watching for a favourable moment to put off. The faces of the men were grave, for they knew the terrific struggle that was before them, and, with such a high sea running, who knew if they would come back again? The coxswain gave the word, and the boat was pushed off into the raging surf. The boatmen bent their backs and made headway in spite of the storm. Over and over again they were lost to sight, and those on shore were filled with fear for their safety, but the good boat breasted each wave gallantly, and quickly drew near to the wreck.

Great difficulty was experienced in getting alongside, and in the struggle the bow of the lifeboat was badly damaged, but at last the boat was made fast. The poor sailors were so benumbed by their long exposure to cold that they were almost helpless, and this made the task of the boatmen still more difficult. At length, after tremendous exertions, they succeeded in taking off seven of the crew. On account of the broken condition of the boat and the high sea, it was not judged prudent to take more, so she was cut adrift from the wreck and returned to the shore with her precious burden.

Fearing that an accident might happen to theMary Whiteand disable her for further service, a second lifeboat had been brought over from Broadstairs. She was now launched, and made for the wreck, from which she shortly afterwards returned with fourteen men. Only two sailors now remained on board, the aged captain and the pilot. The former stubbornly refused to leave his ship, declaring that he would rather be drowned; and the latter said that he was not going to leave the old man to perish by himself.

The coxswain allowed two hours to pass, expecting that the captain would change his mind and signal for them to come and take him off; but when he showed no signs of yielding, he called the men together and launched the lifeboat. After a stiff pull they reached the wreck, and tried to persuade the captain to save himself, but he remained obstinate. Then the men declared that they would remain by the wreck as long as she held together, even if they waited a week. The coxswain pointed out to the captain that he was not only throwing his own life away for no good reason, but that he was also endangering the lives of those in the boat, and he told him that it was his duty to save himself. At length he was persuaded of the folly of his action, and came down from the rigging. The pilot, whose chivalrous feelings alone had kept him in this perilous position, also gladly entered the saving boat.

Great were the rejoicings on the beach when it became known that the whole crew had now been rescued. The shipwrecked men were taken to a house near at hand, but they were so exhausted that they were unable to eat.

Shortly afterwards three horses were harnessed to the transporting carriage of theMary White, and she was taken back to Broadstairs. As she approached the town, the people came out to meet her, and with cheers loud and long welcomed the heroes home.

An eye-witness of the rescue says: "The lifeboatmen were not labouring under any species of excitement when they engaged in the perilous duty, which they performed so nobly and so well. Under the impression that these men would never return,--the impression of all who witnessed their departure from the shore,--I watched their countenances closely. There was nothing approaching bravado in their looks, nothing to give a spectator any idea that they were about to engage in a matter of life or death, to themselves and the crew of the ship clinging to the fore-rigging of theNorthern Belle. They had no hope of a decoration or of a pecuniary reward when, with a coolness of manner and a calmness of mind which contrasted strongly with the energy of their movements, they bounded into the lifeboat to storm batteries of billows far more appalling to the human mind than batteries surmounted by cannon and bristling with bayonets. There could be no question about the heroism of these men."

CHAPTER XVI.

A GALLANT RESCUE.

[image]hortly after daybreak, on the 4th January 1894, the lookout on the pier at Clacton-on-Sea saw a vessel strike on the Buxey Sand, about six miles from the shore. Without a moment's delay the warning was given, the lifeboat,Albert Edward, was manned and launched. There was need of the utmost speed. A strong easterly gale was raging at the time, accompanied by a nipping frost and blinding snowstorm. Owing to the extreme cold, it was feared that the shipwrecked crew would be unable to hold on till help arrived.

[image]

When the lifeboat reached the distressed vessel, it was found to be impossible to get alongside, so the coxswain ordered the anchor to be let go to windward. This was done, and the boat veered down to the full length of her cable. The waves continually broke over the vessel, and caused her to bump upon the sand in a frightful manner, thus preventing the lifeboat from approaching her. Under these circumstances, the boatmen decided to haul in the cable, and to drop the anchor nearer the vessel. This was a work of no little difficulty, and was rendered on this occasion highly dangerous by the anchor having fouled something on the sand. They tugged and strained for some time, but all to no purpose, and they were at last compelled to cut the rope. The sail was then set, and the lifeboat proceeded to the leeside of the ship.

There everything was in a terrible muddle, for the masts and rigging, which hung over the bulwarks, swayed about, threatening death to anyone who ventured within their reach. The sea was running too high to permit the men to board the ship, but by ebb-tide the coxswain thought that the sea would become smoother, and thus enable him to rescue the men at less risk. The crew of the vessel were nearly frozen to death, and it seemed as if they could not hold out much longer. The coxswain made signs to the poor fellows to fasten a buoy to a line, and slack it away from the ship towards the lifeboat. His signs were understood and promptly obeyed, but unfortunately the line caught in the rigging alongside and stuck fast.

The resources of the lifeboatmen were not yet exhausted. Sailing as close as possible to the vessel, they threw out a grappling line, which luckily caught on, and the boat was held. The coxswain shouted to the sailors to make another rope fast, but they paid no heed to his order. No sooner did they perceive that the boat was fixed than they began to crawl along the mast. Only one man had been taken on board, when a heavy sea swept down upon the lifeboat. The rope which fastened her to the wreck was not strong enough to bear the strain, and once more theAlbert Edwardwas driven from the ship.

Canvas was again set to windward for about half an hour, and then the boat was headed for the wreck. The tide was now on the ebb, and less difficulty was experienced in getting a hold on the ship. One by one the poor fellows were taken on board the lifeboat, till only the captain remained. He was an old man, and so exhausted by suffering that he was unable to jump for the boat. A line was therefore thrown to him which he fastened round his waist, and the coxswain went to assist him over the rail of the ship. Just as he was in the act of performing this humane service he was knocked overboard by a sudden lurch. As he struggled in the water, he received a severe blow on the head and a wound across the eye from pieces of floating wreckage. His case was desperate, but he did not lose his presence of mind for a moment. Seizing hold of the rope which was made fast round the captain, he managed to keep himself afloat till his companions rescued him from his perilous position. Nothing daunted, he then made further efforts to save the captain, who was at length hauled through the surf and lifted on board in safety.

Just as this was accomplished, a heavy sea snapped the rope, and the lifeboat left the wreck, having on board the whole crew of seven men. In getting off the sands, on her homeward journey, the boat was frequently smothered by the heavy seas, and several of the men were badly hurt by being dashed against the side. At length, after a long, toilsome struggle, the harbour was reached, the lifeboat and her crew being covered with ice. In spite of the severity of the weather, a number of people were on the pier to give the heroes a hearty reception. The shipwrecked men, who were completely exhausted, were supplied with food and put to bed to recover from the effects of their exposure and fatigue. Their vessel was the St. Alexine of Copenhagen, bound for Stranraer with deals.

CHAPTER XVII.

A BUSY DAY.

[image]n the early morning of the 7th of November 1890, while one of the severest storms known for years on the coast of Lancashire was at its height, signal flares were observed about three miles out at sea. A gun was fired to arouse the lifeboatmen, and in a few minutes the Fleetwood boat was launched and hurrying on her errand of mercy in the wake of a steam-tug. It was almost dark at the time, and the two vessels were quickly lost to view. The news rapidly spread that the lifeboat had been summoned, and soon a number of people were making their way to the beach in the hope of catching a sight of the distressed vessel.

[image]

It was not until seven o'clock that the hull of a large barque loomed in sight to those on shore, and it was then evident that but for the gallant services of the lifeboatmen all on board would be lost. Having got well to windward, the tow-rope was let go, and the boat drifted gradually down to the wreck. Here lay the real danger, and it required all the seamanship of the coxswain to prevent the boat from being dashed against the side of the ill-fated vessel, or swept past the mark by the force of the sea. When within a short distance, the boat was brought to an anchor, and veered down on her cable close to the wreck, which was found to be theLabora, a Norwegian ship.

The work of rescue was promptly begun, and as it was found to be utterly impossible for the lifeboat to approach near enough to take the men off, the coxswain shouted to the sailors to throw him a line. A lifebuoy was accordingly thrown overboard with a rope attached, and floated to the boat. Communication having been thus established, the crew were dragged through the surf in safety. The work of rescue lasted above two hours, and the boat was repeatedly filled with water, so that the fact that not a single life was lost reflects great credit on the seamanship of the coxswain and his men. The whole crew of theLabora, thirteen in number, were taken on board, the captain being the last man to leave the ship.

Sail was then hoisted on the lifeboat, and she made for the shore with all speed. Notwithstanding the gale and the driving rain, hundreds of spectators had assembled along the beach to await the return of the boat. When at length she appeared, she was greeted with shouts of joy, and landed the rescued crew amid a perfect salvo of cheering.

A few hours later, news of another wreck was brought to Fleetwood. Utterly regardless of their rough experience in the early morning, the crew again donned their lifebelts and manned the lifeboat. As they were towed out by the steamer, a magnificent sight was witnessed, the waves dashing furiously over the boat as she ploughed her way through the water, and both vessels were often completely hidden from sight by the seas breaking over them.

[image]SIGHTING THE WRECK.

[image]

SIGHTING THE WRECK.

Regardless of the drenching they received, they held resolutely on their way, and soon the distance of five miles which intervened between them and the wreck was covered. The crew hailed the approach of the saving boat with loud cheers, but great difficulty was experienced in effecting the rescue, as all the masts and rigging were dashing about alongside the ship. To avoid the wreckage striking the lifeboat, and at the same time to get sufficiently near for the sailors to jump aboard, required great skill and judgment, as well as a cool head and a steady nerve.

Owing to the position in which the stranded vessel was lying, every sea broke over her, and threatened to swamp the lifeboat. Eventually the whole crew of eleven men were rescued, and the lifeboat was headed for the shore, where the crew were landed in a most exhausted condition. But for the brave efforts and untiring exertions of the lifeboatmen, the crews of both of those vessels would have been lost, and well might the noble fellows congratulate themselves on having within a few short hours saved twenty-four of their fellow-men from death.

Back to Index Next