Part 3 (2/2)

By means of this whip one end of a stout cable was sent off to the wreck, and on this cable a sling-lifebuoy was hung to a pulley and also run out to the wreck. The working of the apparatus, though simple enough to seamen, would entail a complicated, perhaps incomprehensible, description to landsmen: we therefore pa.s.s it by with the remark that, connection with the sh.o.r.e having been established, and the sling-lifebuoy--or life-saving machine--run out, the crew received it with what was meant for a hearty cheer, but which exhaustion modified to a feeble shout.

”Now, lads,” cried the skipper to his men, ”look sharp! Let out the pa.s.sengers.”

”Pa.s.sengers?” exclaimed Charlie Brooke in surprise.

”Ay--my wife an' little gurl, two women and an old gentleman. You don't suppose I'd keep 'em on deck to be washed overboard?”

As he spoke two of the men opened the doors of the companion-hatch, and caught hold of a little girl of about five years of age, who was handed up by a woman.

”Stay! keep her under cover till I get hold of her,” cried the skipper.

As he was pa.s.sing from the mast to the companion a heavy sea burst over the bulwarks, and swept him into the scuppers. The same wave wrenched the child from the grasp of the man who held it and carried it right overboard. Like an eel, rather than a man, Charlie cleft the foam close behind her, caught her by the skirt and bore her to the surface, when a few strokes of his free arm brought him close under the lee of the wreck just in time to prevent the agonised father from leaping after his child. There was terrible suspense for a few minutes. At one moment our hero, with his burden held high aloft, was far down in the hollow of the watery turmoil, with the black hull like a great wall rising above him, while the skipper in the main-chains, pale as death but sternly silent held on with his left hand and reached down with his right--every finger rigid and ready! Next moment a water-spout, so to speak, bore the rescuer upward on its crest, but not near enough--they went downward again. Once more the leaping water surged upwards; the skipper's strong hand closed like the grip of death on the dress, and the child was safe while its rescuer sank away from it.

”Help him!” shouted the skipper, as he staggered to the shelter of the companion.

But Charlie required no help. A loose rope hanging over the side caught his eye: he seized it and was on deck again in a few seconds. A minute later and he was down in the cabin.

There, terror-stricken, sat the skipper's wife, never venturing to move, because she had been told to remain there till called. Happily she knew nothing of the incident just described.

Beside her sat the other women, and, near to them, a stern old gentleman, who, with compressed lips, quietly awaited orders.

”Come, quick!” said Charlie, grasping by the arm one of the women.

It was the skipper's wife. She jumped up right willingly and went on deck. There she found her child already in the life-buoy, and was instantly lifted in beside it by her husband, who looked hastily round.

”Come here, d.i.c.k,” he said to a little cabin-boy who clung to a stanchion near by. ”Get in.”

The boy looked surprised, and drew back.

”Get in, I say,” repeated the skipper sternly.

”There's more women, sir,” said the boy, still holding back.

”True--brave lad! but you're wanted to keep these from getting washed out. I am too heavy, you know.”

The boy hesitated no longer. He squeezed himself into the machine beside the woman and child.

Then up at arm's-length went the skipper's sou'-wester as a signal that all was ready, and the fishermen began to haul the life-buoy to the sh.o.r.e.

It was an awful trip! Part of the distance, indeed, the trio were borne along well out of the sea, though the waves leaped hungrily up and sent spray over them, but as they drew near the sh.o.r.e they were dipped again and again into the foam, so that the little cabin boy needed all his energy and knowledge, as well as his bravery and strength, to prevent his charge being washed out. Amid ringing cheers from the fishermen-- and a treble echo from the women behind the wall--they were at last safely landed.

”My la.s.s, that friend o' your'n be a braave cheeld,” said an old woman to May Leather, who crouched beside her.

”Ay, _that_ he is!” exclaimed May, with a gush of enthusiasm in tone and eyes that made them all turn to look at her.

”Your brother?” asked a handsome, strapping young woman.

”No--I wish he was!”

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