Part 4 (1/2)

An hour of hard toil brought them within sight of the wreck. Keeping well to windward, the c.o.xswain cast anchor, and the bowman, taking a turn or two of the cable round the bollard, allowed the boat to drop down to the wreck, stern foremost.

”Can't you get round to leeward of the wreck?” asked Jeff, who sat near the stern of the boat, keeping a firm grasp of his oar, which the rus.h.i.+ng and breaking seas well-nigh forced out of his hands.

”No, not as the rocks lie,” replied the c.o.xswain curtly.

On drawing a few yards nearer, it became evident that no boat could live in the seething caldron of rocks and foam that lay under the lee of the wreck. Their only chance lay in approaching from the weather side, which was not only a difficult and dangerous operation, but was rendered doubly so by the violent swaying of the wreck from side to side.

The roaring of the gale and thunder of the seas, combined with the darkness and the hurtling spray, rendered it impossible for the men in the life-boat to distinguish anything clearly, until close to the wreck.

Then it was seen that the whole crew had taken to the rigging of the mainmast--the topmast of which had been carried away by the fall of the foremast and mizzen.

A l.u.s.ty cheer told that the s.h.i.+pwrecked men were still strong in hope, though their situation was terrible; for every lurch of the hull shook the swaying top so violently as almost to tear even the strong seamen from their grasp.

”Jeff,” said Bowers, who sat on the same thwart with his friend, ”did ye not recognise a voice in that cheer?”

”Ay, that I did,” returned Jeff, with feelings of great anxiety. ”'Twas uncommon like Captain Millet.”

”Look out for the rope!” roared one of the lifeboat men, as he swung and discharged the loaded stick with a line attached.

The heave was successful. The men on the maintop of the wreck caught the line, and by means of it pa.s.sed a stout warp between the mast and the boat, down which they began to s.h.i.+n like squirrels, for the prompt appearance of their rescuers had not left time for the exhaustion of their strength.

”Is your vessel the _North Star_, commanded by Captain Millet?” shouted Jeff in the ear of the first arrival, for the noise of raging elements rendered ordinary tones almost useless.

”Ay, she is,” replied the man; ”but you won't see _him_ till the last of us is safe aboard.”

”Hallo! Captain Millet!” cried Jeff, with a roar that almost equalled the elements.

”Ay, ay, is that you, Jeff?” came back in a similar roar (but greatly softened by distance) from the swirling spray-clouds that raged above the wreck.

”Cheer up, Captain; we'll save you all right,” returned our coastguardsman in another enthusiastic roar, which of itself did something to cheer up all who heard it.

About a dozen of the sailors had been got into the lifeboat, when a tremendous rending sound was heard, followed by a loud cry of alarm, as the mast broke off a few feet above the deck, and plunged, with the men still upon it, into the boiling sea. To add to the confusion and terror, some part of the cordage caught the lifeboat, and completely sank as well as overturned it.

To an ignorant observer it might have seemed that all hope was gone-- that every man must perish. But this was not so. The buoyant qualities of the magnificent lifeboat brought it to the surface like a cork the instant it was freed. Its self-righting qualities turned it on its keel. The self-acting discharging tubes emptied it in less than two minutes; and the crew, supported by their cork life-belts, caught the life-lines festooned round the boat's side for this very purpose, and clambered into her.

Of the men of the wreck who had been tumbled into the sea along with them, some clung to their rescuers, whose belts could easily sustain two. Others were able to lay hold of the boat, and a few held on to the floating wreckage till they were saved.

Suddenly the voice of Captain Millet was heard, ”Hold on, lads; don't go without me. My foot's jammed here, and I can't--”

He stopped abruptly, for the head of the mast plunged under water at the moment, taking the captain along with it.

Without a word Jeff rose and sprang into the sea at the spot where his friend had disappeared. Almost at the same moment the end of the mast re-appeared, and struck our hero on the side with terrible violence. In spite of the blow, however, he was able to free the captain, who was caught by several strong arms, and hauled inboard at the same moment that his rescuer laid hold of one of the hanging life-lines.

While they were still heaving at the captain, David Bowers heard Jeff's voice--

”Your hand, Davy!”

The stout coastguardsman was not slow to obey and he received a grip like that of a drowning man; but his mate made no other effort to save himself.

”Help here, two of you,” cried Bowers.