The ship's hull has now been for some time under water, and it is evident that the wreck is breaking up fast. She has coals and iron on board; this dead weight keeps her steady on the Sands, and prevents the waves lifting her and crashing her down, or she would long since have been torn and broken to fragments. As it is, the decks have burst, and the lighter portions of her cargo are being rapidly washed out of her; the sea in some places is black with coal-dust, and much wreckage, pieces of her deck and forecastle are being swept away by the tide.
Each time that the men on board the steamer and life-boat look at the vessel, count the crew still in the rigging, and find that not any are missing, they think it indeed a wondrous mercy that all should still be safe, and get each moment more impressed with feelings of deep sympathy for the poor fellows, and with the greater eagerness to dare all to save them.
Daniel Reading, the brave, skilful, and long-tried master of the steamer, is ill on shore, and so she is in charge of John Simpson, the mate; he and William Wharrier, the engineer, consult as to the possibility of making another effort with the steamer, for the tide is setting off the Sands with such force that they do not see how it is possible for the life-boat to get in to the wreck and save the crew, and they find that all the men on board the steamer are perfectly prepared to second them in any effort that they decide upon making.
They get the mortar-apparatus ready, and again urge the steamer through the seas in the direction of the wreck; they hope to get near enough to the vessel to fire a line from the mortar into the rigging, to which the shipwrecked crew will attach a rope, and then hauling this rope on board the steamer, they will take it to the life-boat's men, who will by it be able to haul the boat through the seas to the wreck. Cautiously the steamer approaches; the tide has been for some time rising fast; the steamer does not draw much water; they are almost within firing distance; the waves come rushing along and nearly overrun the steamer; at last a breaker larger than the rest catches her, lifts her high upon its crest, and letting her fall down into its trough as down the side of a wall, she strikes the Sands heavily; the engines are instantly reversed, she lifts with the next wave, and being a very quick and handy boat, at once moves astern before she can thump again, and they are saved from shipwreck; and thus the fifth effort to save the shipwrecked crew fails.
No time is lost; at once the steamer heads for the life-boat, and makes ready to tow her into position. Again not a word—scarcely a thought—about past failures, only eagerness to commence without delay a fresh attempt; the steamer is alongside the life-boat.
"Look out, my men, here is another rope for you." "All right!" the boatmen answer as they catch the line, and haul the hawser into the boat.
"All right! tow us well to windward, give us a good position, plenty of room, we must have them this time. All fast! away you go, hurrah!" The men watch the wreck as they are towed past her. "Oh! the poor fellows! to think we have not got them yet. Well, we have had a hard struggle for it, but, please God, we will save them yet—we will save them yet!"
"Ah! look how that wave buries them all; there they are again, let us give them a cheer, it will help them to keep their hearts up." And as the boat rose upon a sea, they shouted and waved to the shipwrecked crew.
"There, another breaker has gone right over her; how she heaves and works to it! Yes, and do you see how her masts are swinging about, and in different directions? they are getting unstepped and loose; she is breaking up fast, working all over—all of a quiver and tremble! Poor fellows! poor fellows! we have not a moment to spare. It must soon be all over, one way or the other!" Thus the men speak to each other; they are in a glow of eagerness and excitement, and can scarcely restrain themselves to get quietly to work. For as they watch the poor fellows, and time after time see the waves wash over them in quick succession—and as each wave passes, see them still clinging on—they almost feel as if they could jump at them to try and save them, and in their noble and gallant sympathy and determination lose all sense of weakness, and cold, and exhaustion.
When describing their feelings, one of the men said, "We were thoroughly warm at our work, and felt like lions, as if nothing could stop us."
It is in this spirit that they now consult together, as to the plan upon which they shall make their next effort. First one scheme is suggested, and then another, but these seem to give no better prospect of success than those that have been already tried in vain.
At last one of the men proposes a plan which must indeed either prove rescue to the shipwrecked or death to all.
"I tell you what, my men, if we are going to save those poor fellows, there is only one way of doing it; it must be a case of save all, or lose all, that is just it. We must go in upon the vessel straight, hit her between the masts, and throw our anchor over right upon her decks."
"What a mad-brained trick!" says one.
"Why, the boat would be smashed to pieces."
"Likely enough; but there is one thing certain, is there not? and that is that we are never going home to leave those poor fellows to perish, and I do not believe that there is any other way of saving them, and so we must just try it. And God help us, and them!"
Not a single word against it now!
What, charge in upon the vessel in that mad rage of sea! Victory, or death, indeed!
Most of the men on board the life-boat are married men with families—loved wives, and loved little ones dependent upon them. Thoughts of this, tender heartfelt thoughts of home, come to them.
"Well, and so we have, and have not those poor perishing fellows also got wives and little ones, and are they not thinking of their homes, and loved ones, as much as we are thinking of ours; and shall we go home, having turned back from even the greatest danger, without having tried all it is possible to try; go home to our wives and little ones, and leave them to perish thinking of theirs? No! please God, that shall never be said of us."
Such thoughts as these pass through the minds of some of the boatmen. And what think the poor nearly drowned crew of the unfortunate vessel.
There they are clinging to the loose and shaking rigging; a few feet above the boil of the hungry and raging sea. They have seen effort after effort made, and effort after effort fail; they have watched the men do more than they ever dreamt it was possible for men to do; and they have watched the life-boat live, and battle with seas with which they never thought it possible a boat could for one moment contend; time after time they have thought that the boatmen were drowned, as they saw the huge curling waves break over the boat, swamp it, bury it in the weight of their falling volume of water, and for some seconds hide all from view; they have been watching the men persevere in attempt after attempt, when they thought that from sheer exhaustion it would be impossible for them to make another effort for their rescue.
With equal wonder and admiration they watched the noble efforts of the steamer, marked how nearly she was wrecked, and when she failed, gave up all as lost; deciding in their minds that in such a rush of broken sea, strength of tide and gale of wind, that it is impossible for the boat to reach them, or for them to be saved, and all but one give up all hope. When the captain says in despair, "The life-boat can never make another effort," this man answers, "I have sailed in English ships; I have often heard about life-boat work, and I know that they never leave any one to perish as long as they can see them, and they will not leave us."
"And look, here she comes again. O God help them! God help them!"
Yes, here she comes again; the steamer had hastened to tow her well into position, well to windward of the wreck. "And here she comes again."
Once more the boat heads for the wreck—this time to do, or to die; each man knows it, each man feels it. They are crossing the stern of the vessel; "Look at that breaker—look at that breaker—hold on, hold on, it will be all over with us if it catches us, we shall be thrown high into the masts of the vessel, and shaken out into the sea in a moment! Hold on all, hold on! Now it comes! No, thank God, it breaks ahead of us, and we have escaped. Now, men, be ready, be ready!" Thus shouts the coxswain. Every man is at his station, some with the ropes in hand ready to lower the sails; others by the anchor prepared to throw it overboard at the right moment; round, past the stern of the vessel the boat flies, round in the blast of the gale and the swell of the sea; down helm, round she comes; down foresail; the ship's lee gunwale is under water, the boat shoots forward straight for the wreck, and hits the lee rail with a shock that almost throws all the men from their posts, and then, still forward, she literally leaps on board the wreck. Over! over with the anchor; it falls on the vessel's deck; all the crew of the vessel are in the mizen shrouds, but they cannot get to the boat, a fearful rush of sea is chasing over the vessel, and between them and it. Again and again the boat thumps on the wreck as on a rock, with a shock that almost shakes the men from their hold.
The waves soon lift the boat off the deck, and carry her away from the vessel. "Is even this attempt to be a failure? No, thank God! the anchor holds; veer out the cable; steadily, my men, steadily; do not disturb the anchor more than you can help; we shall have them now! we shall have them, all will be well; ease her a bit, ease her, see how she plunges, a little more cable; now for the grappling-iron; quick, throw it over that line; there you have it;" and they haul on board a line which had been made fast to a cork-fender, and thrown overboard from the wreck early in the day, but which the boatmen had never before been able to reach.
They get the boat straight, haul in slowly upon both ropes; cheer to the crew: "Hurrah! mates, hurrah!" All is joy and excitement, but at the same time steady attention to orders; now the boat is abreast the mizen rigging, opposite to where the men are clinging. "Down helm, the boat sheers in; haul in upon the ropes, men, handsomely, handsomely;" the boat jumps forward, hits the ship heavily with her stern, crashes off a large piece of her fore-foot. The men are for a moment thrown down with the shock; two of the boatmen spring on to the raised bow gunwale, and seize hold of the captain of the vessel, who seems nearly dead, drag him in over the bows; two of the sailors jump on board; "Hold on all, hold on!"
A fearful sea rolls over them, the boat is washed away from the vessel; the anchor still holds; they sheer the boat in again; they make the ropes fast, and lash the boat to the shrouds of the wreck, thus verily nailing their colours to the mast. No! they will not be washed away again until they have all the crew on board.
A sailor jumps from the rigging, the boat sinks in the trough of the sea, the man falls between the boat and the wreck; a second more and the boat will be on the top of him, crushing him against the rail of the vessel, upon which the keel of the boat strikes and grinds cruelly; two boatmen seize him, leaning right over the gunwale to do so, they are almost dragged into the water; they are seized in turn by the men in the boat, and all are with difficulty got on board.
Up the boat flies and crashes against the spar lashed to the rigging. "Jump in, men, jump in all of you. Now! Now!" In they spring, and tumble, falling upon the men, and all rolling over into the bottom of the boat. All are now on board—all on board! "Hurrah! cut the lashings, there, she falls away from the wreck; cut the cable, quick with the hatchet; all gone! all gone! up foresail." The seas catch the boat and bear her away from the wreck; away she goes with a bound, flying through the broken water; the heavy wind fills the sail; they are fairly under weigh, and with the precious freight for which they had fought so long and so gallantly, safely on board. Thank God! thank God! all are saved at last—saved at last.
Now the boat is through the broken seas away from the terrible Sands, out in the deep water; the men have time to look at each other; and how gladly, and yes, how fondly, they do so. Strangers though they be, yet at that moment their hearts are warm to each other with more than a brother's love—all is gladness and thankfulness; they shake hands, the rescuers and the rescued, time after time.
The saved crew are ten in number. They are Danes, and the wreck the Danish barque Aurora Borealis.
Some of the sailors can speak a little broken English, and in such terms as they are able the poor fellows express the depth of their gratitude, and their wonder at being saved.
The boat makes for the steamer, which is coming down rapidly to meet her; the crew of the steamer greet the life-boatmen with cheers! Who can describe the joy they all feel at the successful ending of their long battle with terrible danger and threatened death! and great indeed is their sympathy with the saved from death, for whom they and the boatmen have so willingly, and to the very utmost, risked their own lives.
They lift the captain on board the steamer; he is thoroughly exhausted; they carry him into the engine-room, and in the warmth there, do their best to revive him, and he soon recovers. The Danish seamen will not leave the boat; the life-boat crew tell the mate that his men would be much more comfortable on board the steamer, that the seas will be washing over the boat all the way in; but no, as so frequently happens on such occasions, and as has been before noticed, the rescued men feel so grateful to the life-boatmen, that they are not content to leave the boat until they get to land. And the mate replies, "No! you saved us, you saved us; we thought you never, never do it; you had plenty trouble; we stop with you." And they would not desert their friends, their brothers indeed, who had done so much to save them.
In Ramsgate the anxiety is very great.
The steamer and life-boat have been out many hours, nothing can be seen of them in the mist that hangs over the Goodwin Sands.
"Can anything have happened?" is the question that is restlessly put from one to another.
It might well be so, in the terrific sea that must have been raging on the Goodwin in so fearful a storm.
At about half-past two, hundreds of people are collected on the pier; for the news that the life-boat is out always spreads like wildfire through the town; and if there is any cause for anxiety on her account, the whole town soon shares the apprehension, and throngs of anxious men crowd the pier and harbour. Now the men who are anxiously on the watch make out something looming in the mist; and speedily the steamer and life-boat are seen, their flags are flying, glad sign of successful effort, of rescue effected; and great is the joy of all the lookers-on; steamer and life-boat speed between the massive granite heads of the two piers, and the crowd that looks down upon them as they come pitching and rolling along, greet them with cheer after cheer.
The saved crew land, they are many of them very weak, and worn, and exhausted; but all around is welcome, and sympathy, and active service.
They are taken to the Sailors' Home, where warm clothing, and beds, and goodly fare are ready for them, and the poor fellows soon recover; some of them before they attempt to take any rest insist upon writing to the loved ones at home, to tell of their safety, and of their rescue from apparently almost certain death.
Doubtless these letters contain simple expressions of gratitude to God, and of deep love for the dear wife, of many many kisses for the sturdy little boy, or the laughing girl, for the children whose bright eyes seemed so often staring at them so wistfully out of the storm, and whom they never thought to see again; and doubtless contain also expressions of great admiration and thankfulness for the untiring courage of the English life-boatmen; and their full belief in the expression of one of their number who told them in the height of their danger, and in the very depth of their despair, "to take courage, for the life-boatmen will never leave us while they can see us."
The Board of Trade, in recognition of the gallant services of the men, presented them with one pound each. The King of Denmark forwarded two hundred rix-dollars to be divided among them.
The boatmen are all poor men, and these presents proved very acceptable; but the joy with all was, and will be while life lasts, that God had in His providence and mercy so crowned their perseverance with success, and enabled them to save their drowning brother sailors. While all who heard of the circumstances, declared that never by land or by sea was more gallant service rendered than was accomplished by these brave boatmen, who in the face of all danger, and of all hardship, determined to persevere to the death—determined that while the shipwrecked crew still remained alive, "They would not go home without them."
It may be that some of my readers who have followed the adventures of our Storm Warriors through their varied struggles and heroic deeds, and have felt sympathy more or less deep for the gallant life-savers, would like to know a little of one or two of the leading men among those who, during the last twenty years, or more, have done such good work in the Ramsgate life-boat on the Goodwin Sands.
Gallant men who, time after time, have plunged their boat into the thickest of the fray, and heedless of hardship, heedless of peril, forgetful of self, intent only upon rescuing the distressed, have laboured on through the dark stormy nights, 'mid the rush of the waves, the howling winds, the fierce hurricane blasts, the spray, and sleet, and snow—encountering all dangers, and persevering through all difficulties, and repaid for all as they have brought home in the morning's light the brother sailors, or the passengers, whom they have been instrumental in saving from swift and terrible deaths.
Quiet, broad-chested, steadfast-eyed men, who, by all the scenes they have witnessed, and by all the hardships they have suffered, and by all the thoughts of the shipwrecked ones that they have brought safely home, have it deeply written in upon their hearts: that (to use their own simple and noble expression) they have a call to save life.
Well indeed would it be for the world if more of those to whom talents are given, and to whom stewardships are intrusted, and who stand watching the many who are in danger, overrun by the dark troubled waters of social life—wrecked in poverty, in misery, in ignorance—wrecked for want of true teaching, true guidance, true sympathy, true love—well would it be if more of these stewards of God's loans might have the same noble conviction written in upon their hearts: that they have a call to save life! Then would more lives grow noble by noble work, and become happy in the consciousness of the happy results, which God grants to the efforts of all those who humbly seek to live and labour for the good of others; grants to those who would sooner put to sea 'mid toil and peril, 'mid self-sacrifice and opposition, rather than let the life-boats God has given for their use rot and canker upon the banks, while the cries of the despairing and the lost plead in vain from the dark storms and troubled waters at their feet.
Yes, surely; the humble boatmen of our coasts, our "Storm Warriors," afford a lesson by which many may well profit, in the noble self-sacrificing way in which they realize their mission—that they have a call to save life.
"Who shall be the first coxswain of our new Northumberland Prize Life-boat?" was the question asked by the Ramsgate Harbour Trustees some two and twenty years ago; and it was an important and anxious question; for the good boat required skilful handling to do efficient service, and if she failed in what was required and expected of her, the life-boat cause would receive a serious check.
"No man better than James Hogben for the first coxswain; no man among them all holds a higher character for cool courage, and skill, and experience;" such was the answer. Hogben had been to sea since he was a lad; for some years he was sailing in a small vessel that traded between London and Ostend; then he sailed a little bit of a boat, of about fifteen tons, between Ramsgate and Dunkirk and Boulogne, winter and summer. Ask him about it now, and the dangers he used to run; and he shakes his head, and with a quiet smile tells you that, "He met with a good many very whole breezes, very!" in that little craft of his.
After that, he had nearly twenty years of hovelling; cruising about the Goodwin Sands in open luggers in the stormiest winter weather, till he almost knew the Sands by heart; and so James Hogben was appointed first coxswain of the Ramsgate life-boat.
Each time that he and his crew went out in her they gained fresh confidence in her powers; and noble work the good boat did under his command; indeed from the time the Northumberland life-boat began her career at Ramsgate to the time she was broken up, from December 1851 to July 1865, no fewer than two hundred and sixty-one lives were saved by her and the gallant Storm Warriors who sailed her, from vessels that were utterly lost; and nineteen vessels, with their crews, were extricated from the Goodwin Sands and brought safely into harbour.
For nine years Hogben was coxswain of the life-boat, and then came that dread New Year's Eve, when doubts were thrown upon the telegram that came from Deal; and there was delay; and the life-boat got out to the south of the Goodwin Sands only in time for her crew to see the Gottenburg overwhelmed by the waves, and to hear the last cries of the drowning men.
Hogben had been out in the life-boat once before that day, and was exhausted and unwell; and he had a nasty fall in the boat, and hurt his knee badly, and soon fell seriously ill; his nerves were, for a time, utterly shattered, and he who had been remarkable for his dauntless courage became too nervous to walk even down the pier for fear of falling over.
And although, after a while, he so far recovered as to be able to be employed as a boatman in the harbour, and as a watchman on the pier, yet he was never able to go to sea again; his iron constitution broken down by some thirty years of Storm Warrior life, during the last nine years of which he had been coxswain of the famous Ramsgate life-boat.
Isaac Jarman was appointed coxswain in Hogben's room.
Who among Ramsgate boatmen has been better known in his time than Isaac Jarman—or Mr. Jarman, as I suppose I ought to call him now? for is he not master of a thriving public-house, which he will take good care to keep respectable? and it will not be his fault if any of his customers wreck themselves by taking too much drink.
But a yarn on Ramsgate pier with the life-boat coxswain, Jarman, was for some years quite an institution with many a visitor to Ramsgate, as well as with many an inhabitant.
When I have known Jarman (it does not seem quite natural Mistering my old boatman friend) to be out in the life-boat, enduring all the rage of the storm, and I have imagined the wild scenes 'mid the strife of waters through which he has been passing, another picture, one in very vivid contrast, has often presented itself to my mind.
I have remembered the scene I saw one evening when I called upon him, and found him with his family at tea.
"Come in, sir, come in; you won't disturb us: glad to see you."
His wife and, I think, five little daughters were there, and the baby boy, the only son, was taken out of the cradle to be shown to me.
And as Jarman dandled the little fellow in his strong arms he said, "Bless the boy! Bless the boy! he will make a life-boat coxswain some day, that he will;" and I felt that all the thoughts of the danger of the work was lost in the joy of saving life; I glanced at the mother, half expecting some expression of dissent; no, her smile showed that she was proud of her husband, and that all her sympathies were with him in his noble work, and that she was quite content that her only boy should in his day follow in his father's steps and be, like him, one of the gallant band of life-savers who guard our coasts.
And I have often felt, that however much such pictures of happy home-circles dwelt in the heart of Jarman, and of his comrades, as they have struggled out through the dark storms, and rushed into conflict with the wild seas, yet that they have never caused them to turn back from any danger, or to lessen one single effort in their warfare to save life.
Isaac Jarman was turned out into the North Sea almost from his cradle.
His father, a boatman, got severely hurt on board a hovelling-lugger, so much so, that he was never fit for work again; as a matter of course, the family became very poor.
Many hungry children to feed, and the arms once so strong now powerless to labour for them, no wonder that the cupboard was often empty, and the growing lads forced to do something for themselves as soon as they were able.
And so Isaac Jarman, when a boy of twelve years old, was sent away to sea on board a small fishing-smack called the Pledge; she was only twenty-five tons, but used to sail long distances away to fish in the North Sea, in all weathers, summer and winter.
The poor lad had all the clothing his parents could supply him with, but that was little more than he stood up in; no waterproof overalls, no sea-boots, the almost child had to rough it hardly enough; in bad weather wet through day and night, with no bed to lie upon, and no change of dry clothes; he used to throw himself down on the floor of the small cabin, and lie coiled up before the little fire that glimmered in the stove; the spray oftentimes washing down the hatchway and surging up against his back, so that he had to be content with being dry one side at a time; but strangely enough it agreed with him; as that rough life, with all its strong sea-breezes, and its abundance of good fish diet, does agree with many a little urchin, who, for sturdiness, is not to be surpassed by any luxury-lapped little fellow in the land.
After Jarman had finished his apprenticeship in the fishing-smack, he was for some years in a collier, during which time he was twice wrecked. And after that for seven or eight years he worked as a Ramsgate boatman, always on the look-out in rough weather, day and night, with but short intervals for sleep, for a signal of distress from the Goodwin Sands, and a call for the life-boat; and so all his training well fitted him for the post of life-boat coxswain; and when the vacancy was made by Hogben's illness, Jarman was well chosen to fill the post. For ten years he continued coxswain of the life-boat, going out in her no fewer than one hundred and thirty-two times, and helping to save between three and four hundred lives.
You may see many a medal that has been well won—and that is worthily worn—by veteran soldier or sailor, but you will find few that have been better won, or that are more worthily worn, than are the four medals and a clasp that our Storm Warrior Jarman has to show as records of his brave and self-sacrificing services; or the three medals that Hogben can display on high days and holidays; or those given to Reading, the brave master of the steam-tug Aid, and those worn by many another gallant boatman or sailor, who, at Ramsgate, or at other stations round the coast, have done true warrior service in saving life from shipwreck.
After holding his post of coxswain for ten years, Jarman found the exposure too much for him: he was out nine times in one fortnight, five times in one week; he was seized with a very severe attack of bronchitis, from which he never thoroughly recovered, and had shortly to give up going to sea, and resign his position of coxswain.
He had three brothers and a nephew brought up as sailors, all of whom have been drowned; well do I remember the night when his last brother was drowned.
It had been blowing a heavy gale for three days and nights, with continual snowstorms; the vessels at sea were in terrible peril: they had no help for it but to drive blindly before the gale, unable to see any of the lights or buoys which mark the sands and shoals. I had heard that a Ramsgate collier was known to have sailed from the North some days since, and could not be far off; and it was with a sad heart and deep anxiety that I lingered on the pier that afternoon watching the storm. I saw the boatmen all ready on the look-out for any signal, but I felt, as they felt, that there could be but little hope of any vessels being able to run the gauntlet of the many sandbanks in that dark storm, or of being able to make any signals heard, or seen, if they got into danger.
It was with a deep feeling of dread and apprehension that I left Jarman and his fellow-boatmen to their dreary and almost hopeless watch; and they watched on through the long dark hours of the night, ready at any moment to man the life-boat; but they could discover no signal—the roar of the storm was too great, the fall of snow too continuous. And yet during those sad hours while the boatmen crouched, sheltering themselves as well as they could—watching, and listening, and waiting, but in vain—the terrible tragedy was worked out; at daylight they saw a wreck in Pegwell Bay. Man the life-boat! No, too late, she is bottom up, her masts are gone; she must have been wrecked on the Brake Sand, and been rolled over and over by the tremendous sweep of the sea, and the tide. Yes, it is the Ramsgate collier that was expected, and that Jarman's brother commanded; and he and all his crew have miserably perished—perished within sight of home, and within half a mile or so of the life-boat men who were so eagerly watching and waiting for a call to their rescue, and to whom they could not make their danger known.
And to this day you may see the sad record of the disaster in the remains of the hull of the wreck, washed high up on the shore in Pegwell Bay, and there half buried in the sand.
A great grief to Jarman this sad loss of his brother; and the poor man left a widow and a large family of children; and when fine weather came, in the early summer, many a friend who had had pleasant chats with the life-boat coxswain on Ramsgate pier, was surprised to find him diligently cruising in and out of offices in London; he was canvassing for votes for the Merchant Seamen's Orphan Asylum, and he laboured on until he succeeded in getting two of his late brother's children into that famous institution.
Charles Fish was appointed to succeed Jarman as coxswain, and the life-boat under his guidance continues to do good service; many times has he been out in her, and many times has he, through much hardship and danger, brought saved lives home. And may God in His mercy continue to shield and bless him and the brave men who sail with him, and aid them in their gallant efforts to pluck the shipwrecked and the drowning from all the mighty strife of waters, that battles with such deadly fury when the storms rage round the fatal Goodwin Sands.
I cannot refrain from bearing my tribute of admiration to worthy Daniel Reading, a brave, skilful, modest sailor, the master of the steam-tug Aid; many and many a time has he rendered service, which for daring and skill could not be well surpassed, threading in and out of the Goodwin Sands 'mid terrible storms while seeking for the position of wrecked vessels, or making short cuts to tow the life-boat into position, that no time should be lost in her efforts to save the drowning crews.
Yes! Reading, and James Simpson, the mate of the Aid, and William Wharrier, the engineer, who have been together more than twenty years, and have been out on almost every occasion that the life-boat has been called for, have all three of them done noble and gallant service time after time, and are indeed well worthy to be ranked among the Storm Warriors who have nobly fought in the great and good cause of saving life.
And many another gallant fellow might I mention, whose name stands worthily on the Ramsgate life-boat roll-call; famous specimens of what a British sailor should be—full of daring and determination, and skill, and hardihood; men who are ready to encounter all danger, and to endure any amount of hardship, in answer to the holy call: to go forth and seek to save the shipwrecked and the perishing.
Whatever interest my readers may have felt in the narrative of gallant deeds wrought at one life-boat station on the coast, must be intensified at the thought of the noble work that is going on all round our sea-girt land—that, at almost all dangerous places where vessels are likely to be in distress, or lives in peril, there are life-boats ready to be manned, and brave fellows ever anxious promptly to launch forth 'mid the wind and sea, and battle their way to the rescue of the perishing. Yes, thank God, the gallant old Anglo-Saxon blood is still to the fore; the spirit of our ancestors has not died out, and we may well believe, from abundant evidence continually arising from very diversified fields, that it has not even in the least degenerated; for at all times can men be found ready to go forth either by sea or land, to dare all that men should dare, and to do all that men can do, when duty calls them to labours of self-sacrifice, endurance, and courage.
And to the old bravery is now added modern science and organization, and the British coasts are guarded by a volunteer navy, equipped and marshalled by the Royal National Life-boat Institution.
Two hundred and thirty-three life-boats form, at present, the great storm fleet of the Institution; the boats are stationed at the most dangerous places on the coast, and are kept always ready for service.
Those who are living inland may often notice how fast the high clouds are flying overhead, and may listen to the soughing of the rising wind among the branches of the trees; but no dread conflict is pictured by the swift onsweep of the clouds, and the murmur of the wind, fitful and angry though it at times is, scarcely seems to suggest scenes of terrible peril, and of warfare unto life or death; but watch the direction in which the clouds are flying; consider on what part of our coast it is that this fierce gale strikes; imagine the heavy sea that rolls in there, the foaming breakers, the air thick with spray, the sound of the deep-voiced waves as they thunder down upon the rocks over which they break; yes! and fancy that you can make out through the low flying mist that several vessels are in the distance trying to beat their way against the growing gale, and off the dangerous lee-shore, and then rejoice as you feel fully assured, if any of those struggling vessels are overwhelmed by the storm, that it shall not be without a gallant effort for their safety that the poor fellows who form their crews shall be left to perish, for you are convinced that there are, if a life-boat station is near, storm warriors keenly watching the scene, and that they are ready at any moment to launch the life-boat and do battle with the storm and seas for the lives of their brother-sailors. Yes! and it is one of old England's many glories that it should be so.
"It is the soul that makes us rich or poor;" the old philosopher tells us, and we feel that it is as true of a nation as of an individual. And we count a nation rich with a true glory, that can point to many good works organized and carried out for great and good ends by the loving heartedness, generosity, unselfishness, and courage of its people. And among such works is life-boat work; there are the rich in soul who have the means and the open hand, and there are the many who are rich in soul and have the courageous and strong hand; and the hand generous with its wealth, clasps the hand generous with its labour and readiness for peril, and together they work out those noble results in which we all rejoice, and which the records of the Life-boat Institution so fully declare.
And we should be less proud of our country if it were not so; indeed we are almost inclined to think it a matter of necessity that in our island home, where the history of our country is so interwoven with the triumphs of our sailors, either in contests with our enemies, in pursuit of discovery, or in the development of commerce, that our sympathies with our sailors should indeed be deep and practical, and that while we rejoice in the safety and the comfort afforded by their labours, that we shall ever be prepared to help them in the hour of their distress; and that there can be therefore little room for wonder that those who realize the enormous traffic that is carried on around our shores, the dangerous nature of our coasts, and the constant casualties that are occurring, should earnestly desire the welfare of the life-boat cause, and be ready to labour for its development.
The history of the life-boat movement, and of the foundation and gradual development of the Life-boat Institution, are given in the earlier pages of this book. The present condition of the Society tells abundantly of the success it has enjoyed, and of the sympathy it has gained, until now it is able almost to girdle our land with life-boat stations.
Every year there is published by the Board of Trade, a register of the number of wrecks that have taken place in the British Isles during the previous year; the Life-boat Institution publishes a wreck-chart compiled from these returns; each wreck is denoted by a black dot which marks on the map the place at which the wreck occurred; and a truly dismal appearance the map has. See how plentifully these black dots are sprinkled round the coast-line, here one, and there two, at other places half-a-dozen side by side, or growing in number to ten or twelve, and then increasing still more rapidly at the more exposed parts of the coast, or where dangerous sands are more directly in the highway of vessels, so that in such places there may be found twenty, thirty, or forty such marks, and at some localities even more than these, as at the Sands off Yarmouth, the Goodwin Sands, the Bristol Channel, and others, where line after line is required to find room for the number of wrecks to be thus recorded. For the past year no fewer than 1958 such marks are necessary to complete the dismal list, for such was the number of the wrecks that took place, within that time, in the seas that surround the British Isles. The months of November and December were especially fatal, heavy gales, thick weather, shifting winds, worked terrible havoc among the shipping; the coasts were strewn with wrecks; and the wreck-chart grew proportionally darker in its outline; and is it not a terrible picture that it presents, as we recognise that almost every mark speaks of a dismal scene of destruction and of peril, of ships with wild seas breaking ruthlessly over them, and of men clinging on, being, perhaps, beaten slowly to death by the constant rush of the heavy waves, until, unless rescued, the shattered wreck breaks up beneath their feet, and they are at once launched into eternity?
But let us look again at the chart, and we find red marks on the coast lines opposite to the black dots which stud the sea; and wherever the sea is more dark with the signs of wrecks, there do we find the coast line opposite to such places pencilled the more abundantly with the thin red lines which mark the life-boat stations; and thank God that the red marks on this wreck-chart do now so often confront the black! for if the black colour speaks of death, the red colour speaks of life; if the one tells of terrible danger the other tells of gallant rescue; if the one pictures sailors clinging to a few spars, expecting death at every moment; the other pictures the Storm Warriors ready at their various stations to man the life-boat, and launch forth to wrestle nobly with the cruel seas, to snatch from them their intended prey.
And moreover, if the one set of signs tells us of the dangers incurred by the tens of thousands of sailors who are helping to minister to the necessities, and comfort, and luxury of the population of England, the other tells of men and women with warm hearts and generous hands, who let their sympathies go out towards their sailor brethren, and plant our storm-ridden shores with life-boats that shall be for the rescue of those in peril; and who are glad also to encourage and reward the brave men who so often risk their own lives in their efforts to save the lives of others.
And so famously has its work gone on, that the Life-boat Society can now report that the number of lives saved, either by the life-boats of the Institution, or by especial exertions for which the Society has granted rewards, presents the grand total of more than 22,000; and we are told that for these services the Society has granted 91 gold medals, 842 silver medals, and more than £40,000 in money, so that now we may well say, that the Institution has truly become one of national importance, as it has ever been one of national necessity.
Well indeed was it that Lionel Luken nearly a century ago, "In the morning sowed the seed, and in the evening withheld not his hand;" for although it was not given him to see the results of his labours, yet he commenced a work which has grown into its present noble proportions; while in contrast to all the apathy he met with, we can now point to a wide-spread and positive affection that the people of England feel for the life-boat cause; and in evidence of the hold that the work of the Society has now obtained upon the public mind we can point to its meetings, when its friends assembled have been found to rank among all classes of society, when those who are among the chief of the Royal personages of the land have been present, and have been surrounded by some of the first representatives of our aristocracy, of our army, of our navy, and of our commerce. Among the most memorable of such meetings was one held in the Mansion House in the year 1867, when the Prince of Wales occupied the chair—and the testimony he gave in favour of the Society found an echo, I am sure, in the hearts of all present. It was to the following effect: "My Lord Mayor, my lords, ladies and gentlemen. It affords me great pleasure to occupy the chair upon so interesting an occasion as the present. Among the many benevolent and charitable institutions of this country there are, I think, few which more demand our sympathy and support, and in which we can feel more interest, than the National Life-boat Institution. An institution of this kind is an absolute necessity in a great maritime country like ours. It is wholly different in one respect to many other institutions, because, although lives are to be saved, they can in those cases, in which this society operates, only be saved at the risk of the loss of other lives. I am happy to be able to congratulate the Institution upon its high state of efficiency at the present moment, and on the fact that by its means nearly 1000 lives have been saved during the past year.
"I am happy also to be able to say, that life-boats exist not only upon our coasts, but that our example in this matter has been emulated by many foreign maritime countries, some of which have chosen to model their Institutions upon our own.... Half a century ago this Institution originated in this city. In 1852, the late Duke of Northumberland became its president. My lamented father was also the vice-president, and took the warmest interest in its prosperity. I am happy to say that the respected secretary, Mr. Lewis, occupied that position in 1850. He has held it ever since, and much of the success of the Institution is owing to his long experience; and the energetic manner in which he has directed its working has raised the Institution to its present high state of efficiency.
"Before concluding my brief remarks, I call upon you once more to offer your support to so excellent an Institution. I congratulate you that it has arrived at so excellent a state, and I feel sure that you would be the last to wish it to decay for the want of support to its funds."
Thus spake His Royal Highness, in 1867, and since then the Institution has developed more and mere, completing its organization, perfecting its system, and yearly in its noble results increasing its hold upon the affections of the country.
And now, as I write the concluding lines of my book, the reality of the work related is deeply impressed upon my mind, for this morning my two little boys came running downstairs making the house ring with their cries of "The life-boat! the life-boat!" they had seen it from their nursery window. Yes, there she was, being towed by the steamer, the rough seas lashing over her; her flag was flying in triumph. I could see through my glass that there were about a dozen saved men on board the steamer; and as I have since learned, seldom have men more narrowly escaped than did those poor fellows, and seldom have men been saved by a greater exhibition of courage and perseverance than was displayed by our life-boat men while effecting their rescue.
The Scot, a barque of 345 tons, bound from Sunderland to Algiers with a cargo of coals, after experiencing much stormy and thick weather, ran on the Kentish Knock Sand at five o'clock in the morning; the seas immediately began to break over her; the carpenter sounded the well and found two feet and a half of water in her hold, but as the waves lifted her, and plunged her down upon the Sands, she filled at once with water. The captain sent the steward into the cabin for the ship's papers; he found the water up to the cabin floor; he seized the box in which the papers were, and ran up on deck; a wave rushed over the vessel and swept him along the deck; he caught hold of a rope with one hand, but one of the sailors, overwhelmed by the same wave, threw his legs around his neck and nearly tore him from his hold; the wave passed and the two men were enabled to spring into the rigging: all hands had to take refuge there, for within five minutes of the vessel's striking she began to break up; the boats were washed away, the deck-house was torn to fragments and carried away piecemeal; the deck began to twist, and buckle, and open, and then was speedily ripped up by the force of the seas, and torn away plank after plank. The vessel broke her back and heeled over on the starboard side, and settled down upon the Sands; the men could not make any signal of distress, and if they could have done so, they were miles away from any life-boat, and at any moment the masts might give and they be plunged into the boiling sea. If the weather moderated some passing vessel might see them and be able to send a boat in to their rescue, but not while the gale lasted. The day grew on; many vessels passed the Sands, but not near enough to be able to make out the men in the rigging of the masts, which were only just above water; the weather grew worse and worse, the day was wearing away, and the night coming on; it was all very, very hopeless.
At last a brig passed nearer to them than any other vessels had come; the mate said, "If they are looking at the wreck with a good glass, they may, perhaps, see us," and he stood up and waved to them. At that moment, most providentially, the pilot on board the vessel looked at the wreck through a glass, and saw the mate waving his south-wester cap. The brig soon after spoke a smack that was making in for the land, and the smack proceeded to Broadstairs and reported a wreck on the Kentish Knock, with the crew in the rigging, and that a life-boat was wanted for their rescue, for that no ordinary boat could live through the sea that was running over the Sands. At Broadstairs they felt that their own boat could never get there in time without the assistance of a steamer, and they telegraphed to Ramsgate. It was about six o'clock in the evening, the steamer Aid, with Reading in command, and the life-boat Bradford, with Fish as coxswain, and R. Goldsmith as second coxswain, at once made their way out into the gale and tremendous sea to the rescue of the shipwrecked crew.
In the meantime the poor fellows on board the wreck waited on almost in despair, the ship each moment yielding to the force of the storm till the whole deck was washed away, and the masts were working more and more loose; happily she had wire rigging, which stood the heavy swaying and lurching of the masts better than the ordinary rope rigging would have done.
It was piteous in talking to the men to hear them describe the condition of utter despair that they were in, and how little ground they could find for any hope whatever; piteous to hear the captain say, "There were just two planks of the deck left floating entangled in a rope, and I kept watching them, thinking that if the mast went I would try and swim to them, and float on them for the chance of being picked up by some vessel;" to hear the mate answer, "But I was just watching them too, with the same idea;" and the carpenter adds, "That was just the plan I had in my mind."
And thus the ten men clung to the rigging and to each other, standing on the small crosstrees of one tottering mast, hour after hour. The day passed, still no signs of rescue; it became quite dark; it seemed impossible that they could ever see another day's dawn.
They might perish at any moment! at any moment! and all ten of them. This was the conviction of each one. They told me how endless the dark hours of that terrible night seemed; and one man said, "That the thought that seemed ever present with him, was the bitter way that his little boy sobbed and cried when he bid him good-bye, and how he would cry again when he heard that 'Dadda was gone.'" At last there was a streak of dawn, but the mast had fallen over almost to a level with the water and seemed still yielding rapidly; they might see the sunrise again, but that was all; when one of the sailors cried out, "A steamer!" "What good can that be to us?" and they watch her without interest, for there seems little chance of her coming in their direction. "Ah! she is running down the edge of the Sands, and comes nearer, and nearer!"—"Well she can't help us if she does; no boat can come across the Sands to us in this surf—No! no." Shortly, a man cries, "She has a large boat in tow;"—"What! perhaps a life-boat! it may be that some passing vessel made us out yesterday and has sent a life-boat;" Oh, what a thought of hope, of joy, of life! "Can it be so? it is—it is! thank God it is—it is! Look, she has left the steamer and is coming in through the breakers straight towards us!"
It is something to remember, the way in which one man said to me, as if almost unnerved by the remembrance, "Oh, what a beauty she looked! what a beauty she looked coming over those seas!"
The steamer and life-boat had got out to the Sands after battling with the storm for a distance of twenty-six miles. At about 11 o'clock the night before, they spoke the Lightship on the Kentish Knock, and learnt the bearings of the wreck; but they found that it was impossible to discover her in the darkness of the night and storm, so after several vain efforts they lay to until the morning. As soon as it was light they went in search of the wreck, and the life-boat made in across the Sands, and it was then truly a great matter of heartfelt congratulation to the life-boat men that all their labour and perseverance had not been in vain; for to their great joy they could see the crew in the rigging. They anchored the boat as near to the wreck as they could venture, and then let the cable veer out until the boat was under the vessel's jib-boom. It was low-tide—the seas were not breaking over the wreck so violently as they had been; and the men were able to work their way out on to the bowsprit, and drop into the boat, and thus the ten men were saved, after being twenty-six hours holding on in the maintop of the wreck.
The flood-tide was just making; all felt, that as soon as it rose and the wreck began to heave and work again, the mast would speedily go, and they realized to the full that they had only been saved just in time.
The life-boat returned to the steamer as speedily as possible, and put the rescued men on board her. The shipwrecked men had not tasted anything for nearly thirty-six hours, as it was before breakfast time that they had run ashore, and they had been in the rigging for twenty-six hours. The life-boat got back to the harbour at 11 o'clock in the morning; the life-boat men had been in the open boat exposed to all the fury of the storm for nearly seventeen hours, and their exhaustion was very great. The kindness of some friends provided the weary and famished men with a good dinner at the house of their old comrade and friend, Jarman, and soon after a telegram came from Mr. Lewis, of the Life-boat Institution, to whom tidings of the rescue had been telegraphed, that the life-boatmen were to have a sovereign each, and a good dinner; but by that time they were all resting at home after their long hours of fatigue. Other friends made recognition by subscription of their noble services; and comfort was thus carried into the homes of our Storm Warriors after their gallant and triumphant efforts in saving life.
The shipwrecked men were cared for in our Sailors' Home, and speedily recovered their fatigues. The captain told me he did not think they would have been alive one hour longer, if the life-boat had not come just when she did; and speaking of the life-boat, said with deep feeling, "Oh! she is a noble boat, and nobly manned; there could not be a kinder set of men!" And with these words of the brave and grateful sailor so recently and unexpectedly saved with all his crew, from that which seemed most certain death, I feel inclined to finish my book. But I will add one wish, namely, that we had a better Sailors' Home in which to receive the poor fellows who are brought ashore; 156 wrecked men were received into the Home at Ramsgate last year, 40 in one day; and a little house of £25, or so, rent, and its one sitting-room for the use of the men, only about sixteen feet by fourteen, and eighteen beds crowded together in small rooms is, of course, quite inadequate to afford the accommodation that we would wish to provide for the poor fellows brought in half dead with cold, with exhaustion, and with hunger, plucked by the Storm Warriors from the very jaws of death 'mid the rage of waters on the Goodwin Sands.
God speed the life-boat! God guard the Storm Warriors!
THE END.
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET
AND CHARING CROSS.
Second Edition, Crown 8vo., price 5s.
THE HISTORY
OF
THE LIFE-BOAT AND ITS WORK.
By RICHARD LEWIS,
BARRISTER-AT-LAW, SECRETARY TO THE ROYAL NATIONAL
LIFE-BOAT INSTITUTION.