Part 26 (2/2)

With great difficulty the boat got near to the port quarter of the s.h.i.+p, and Pike stood up ready in the bow with a line, to which was attached a loaded cane, something like a large life-preserver.

”Heave!” shouted the c.o.xswain.

The bowman made a deliberate and splendid cast; the weighted cane fell on the deck of the s.h.i.+p, and was caught by Jim Welton, who attached a hawser to it. This was drawn into the boat, and in a few seconds she was alongside. But she was now in great danger! The wild waters that heaved, surged, and leaped under the vessel's lee threatened to dash the boat in pieces against her every moment, and it was only by the unremitting and strenuous exertions of the men with boat-hooks, oars, and fenders that this was prevented. Now the boat surged up into the chains as if about to leap on board the s.h.i.+p; anon it sank into a gulf of spray, or sheered wildly to leeward, but by means of the hawser and cable, and a ”spring” attached to the latter, she was so handled that one and another of the crew of the wreck were taken into her.

The first saved was a little child. It was too small and delicate to be swung over the side by a rope, so the captain asked Jim Welton, as being the most agile man in the s.h.i.+p and possessed of superabundant animal courage, to take it in his arms and leap on board. Jim agreed at once, handed over the care of his flare-lights to one of the men, and prepared for action. The poor child, which was about a year old, clung to its mother's neck with terror, and the distracted woman--a soldier's widow-- could scarce be prevailed on to let the little one out of her arms.

”Oh, let me go with him,” she pleaded most earnestly, ”he is all that is left to me.”

”You shall follow immediately; delay may be death,” said the captain, kindly, as he drew the child gently but firmly from her grasp.

It was securely bound to Jim's broad bosom by means of a shawl.

Watching his opportunity when the boat came surging up on the crest of a billow almost to his feet, and was about to drop far down into the trough of the sea, the young sailor sprang from the side and was caught in the outstretched arms of the lifeboat men.

It had occurred to Stanley Hall, just before this happened, that there was every probability of some of the pa.s.sengers falling overboard during the process of being transferred to the boat. Stanley was of a somewhat eccentric turn of mind, and seldom allowed his thoughts to dissipate without taking action of some kind. He therefore got into the mizzen chains and quietly fastened a rope round his waist, the other end of which he tied to a stanchion.

”You'll get crushed by the boat there,” cried the captain, who observed him.

”Perhaps not,” was the reply.

He stood there and watched Jim Welton as he leaped. The mother of the child, unable to restrain herself, climbed on the bulwarks of the vessel. Just as she did so the boat surged up again,--so close that it required but a short step to get into her. Some of the pa.s.sengers availed themselves of the chance--the poor widow among them. She sprang with a cry of joy, for she saw her child's face at the moment as they unbound him from Jim's breast, but she sprang short. Little wonder that a woman should neglect to make due allowance for the quick swooping of the boat! Next moment she was in the boiling foam. A moment later and she was in Stanley Hall's grasp, and both were swept violently to leeward, but the rope brought them up. Despite darkness and turmoil the quick-eyed c.o.xswain and his mate had noted the incident. Pike payed out the hawser, the c.o.xswain eased off the spring; away went the boat, and next moment Pike had Stanley by the hair. Short was the time required for their strong arms to pull him and his burden in-board; and, oh! it was a touching sight to witness the expressions of the anxious faces that were turned eagerly towards the boat, and glared pale and ghastly in the flaring light, as her st.u.r.dy crew hauled slowly up, hand over hand, and got once more under the vessel's lee.

No sooner were they within reach than another impatient pa.s.senger leaped overboard. This was Jim's faithful dog Neptune! Watching his time with the intelligence of a human being, he sprang, with much greater precision and vigour than any human being could have done, and, alighting on Pike's shoulders, almost drove that stout boatman into the bottom of the boat.

Soon the boat was as full as it could hold. All the women and children had been got into her, and many of the male pa.s.sengers, so that there was no room to move; still there remained from twenty to thirty people to be rescued. Seeing this, Jim seized Neptune by the neck and flung him back into the wreck. Catching a rope that hung over the side, he also swung himself on board, saying,--”You and I must sink or swim together, Nep! Shove off, lads, and come back as soon as you can.”

The hawser was slipped as he spoke; the lifeboat was hauled slowly but steadily to windward up to her anchor. Tons of water poured over her every moment, but ran through her discharging tubes, and, deeply loaded though she was, she rose buoyant from each immersion like an invincible sea-monster.

When the anchor was reached, a small portion of the foresail was set, and then, cutting the cable with one blow of a hatchet, away they went like the scudding foam right over the boiling shallows on the spit of sand.

”Hand out a blue-light there,” cried the c.o.xswain. A sharp blow caused the blue-fire to flare up and shed a light that fell strong as that of the full moon on the mingled grave, pale, stern, and terrified faces in the lifeboat.

”Safe!” muttered one of the crew.

”Safe?” was echoed in surprise, no doubt, from several fluttering hearts.

As well might that have been said to the hapless canoe-man rus.h.i.+ng over the Falls of Niagara as to the inexperienced ones there, while they gazed, horror-struck, on the tumult of mad waters in that sudden blaze of unearthly light. Their faith in a trustworthy and intelligent boatman was not equal to their faith in their own eyes, backed by ignorance! But who will blame them for lack of faith in the circ.u.mstances? Nevertheless, they _were_ safe. The watchful master of the tug,--laying-to off the deadly banks, now noting the compa.s.s, now casting the lead, anon peering into the wild storm,--saw the light, ran down to it, took the rescued ones on board, and, having received from the c.o.xswain the information that there were ”more coming,” sent them down into his little cabin, there to be refreshed and comforted, while the lifeboat sheered off again, and once more sprang into the ”broken water.” So might some mighty warrior spur from the battle-field charged with despatches of the highest import bearing on the fight, and, having delivered his message, turn on his heel and rush back into the whirling tide of war to complete the victory which had been so well begun!

Once more they made for the wreck, which was by that time fast breaking up. Running right before the wind in such an awful gale, it was necessary to make the men crowd aft in order to keep the boat's head well out of the water. On this occasion one or two of the seamen of the Wellington, who had been allowed inadvertently to remain in the boat, became alarmed, for the seas were rolling high over the gunwale on each side, and rus.h.i.+ng into her with such force as to make it a difficult matter to avoid being washed out. It was a new sensation to these men to rush thus madly between two walls of foam eight or ten feet high!

They glanced backward, where another wall of foaming water seemed to be curling over the stern, as if about to drop inboard. The c.o.xswain observed their looks, and knew their feelings. He knew there was no lack of courage in them, and that a little experience would change their minds on this point.

”Never look behind, lads,” he cried; ”look ahead; always look right ahead.”

”Ay, Geordy,” remarked one of the men,--a Scotchman,--to his mate, ”it's rum sailin' this is. I thocht we was a' gaun to the bottom; but nae doot the c.o.x'n kens best. It's a wonderfu' boat!”

Having so said, the sedate Scot dismissed his anxieties, and thereafter appeared to regard the surrounding chaos of water with no other feelings than philosophic interest and curiosity.

On nearing the wreck the second time, it was found that the tide had fallen so low that they could scarcely get alongside. Three times they struck on the shoal; on the third occasion the mizzen-mast and sail were blown out of the boat. They managed to drop anchor, however, and to veer down under the port bow of the Wellington, whence the anxious survivors threw ropes to them, and, one after another, leaped or swung themselves into the boat. But they were so long about it that before all had been got out the c.o.xswain was obliged to drop to leeward to prevent being left aground. In spite of this, the boat got fast, and now they could neither advance to the wreck for the nine men who still remained in her, nor push off to rejoin the tug.

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