Читать книгу Storm Warriors; or, Life-Boat Work on the Goodwin Sands - John Gilmore - Страница 10

Table of Contents

"Ye mariners of England,

That guard our native seas;

Whose flag has braved a thousand years

The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again

To match another foe;

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow,

While the battle rages loud and long

And the stormy winds do blow."

It was a Sunday night, in the month of February, a few years ago, the anxious boatmen, who kept a diligent watch, shrugged their shoulders as they cast keen glances to windward, and declared that it was going to be a very dirty night.

Heavy masses of cloud skirted the horizon as the sun set; and as the night drew on, violent gusts of wind swept along, accompanied by snow-squalls.

It was a dangerous time for vessels in the Channel, and it proved fatal to one at least.

Before the light broke on Monday morning, the Margate lugger Eclipse put out to sea to cruise round the shoals and sands in the neighbourhood of Margate, on the look out for the victims of any disasters that might have occurred during the night.

The crew soon discovered that a vessel was ashore on the Margate Sands, and directly made for her. She proved to be the Spanish brig Samaritano of one hundred and seventy tons, bound from Antwerp to Santander, and laden with a valuable and miscellaneous cargo.

Her crew consisted of the captain, Modesto Crispo, and eleven men; it was during a violent squall of wind and snow that the vessel was driven on the Sands, at about half-past five in the morning; the crew attempted to get away from the vessel in the boats, but in vain, the oars were broken in the attempt, and the boats stove in.

The lugger Eclipse, as she was running for the brig, spoke a Whitstable fishing-smack, and borrowed two of her men and her boat. They boarded the brig as the tide went down, and hoped to be able to get her off the Sands at the next high water. For this purpose, six Margate boatmen and the two Whitstable men were left on board.

But with the rising tide, the gale came on again in all its fury, and the boatmen had speedily to give up every hope of saving the vessel. They hoisted their boat on board to prevent her being swamped by the seas which were breaking heavily, and all hands began to feel that it was becoming a question, not of saving the vessel, but of saving their own lives. The sea rushed furiously over the wreck, lifting her, and then letting her fall with crushing violence upon the sands. Her timbers did not long withstand this trial of their strength; a hole was quickly knocked in her side, she filled with water, and settled down upon the sand.

The waves began now to break with great force over the deck; the lugger's boat was speedily knocked to pieces and swept overboard; the hatches were forced up, and some of the cargo which floated on the deck was at once washed away. The brig began to roll and labour fearfully, as wave after wave broke against her, with a force that shook her from stem to stern and threatened to throw her bodily upon her broadside; the men, fearing this, cut the weather-rigging of the main mast, and the mast soon broke off short with a great crash, and went over the side.

All hands now took refuge in the fore-rigging; nineteen men had then no other hope between them and a terrible death than the few shrouds of the shaking mast.

The wind beat against the poor fellows with hurricane force; each wave that broke against the vessel sprang up in columns of foam and drenched them to the skin; the air was full of spray and sleet, which froze upon them as it fell.

The Margate boatmen were there, but the Margate lugger could not have lived five minutes in the sea that surrounded the vessel; the Whitstable smack would have been wrecked at once, if she had attempted to get near the wreck, and thus the poor fellows, caught in a trap, had to be left by their comrades to their fate, their only chance of escape being the possibility of a life-boat coming to their rescue, and this before their frail support should yield to the rush of wind and sea.

And resting in this hope they waited hour after hour, clinging to the shrouds of the tottering mast; but no help came, until one and all despaired of life.

In the meanwhile, news of the wreck had spread like wildfire through Margate. In spite of the gale, and the blinding snow squalls, many of the inhabitants struggled to the cliff, and with spy-glasses tried to penetrate the scud, or to gain in the breaks of the storm some glimpses of the wreck.

As soon as the peril the crew of the brig were in was known, the smaller of the two Margate life-boats was manned and made to the rescue. As she sailed out into the storm, the seas broke over her and filled her; this her gallant crew heeded little at first, for they had every confidence in her powers to ride safely through any storm, that her air-tight compartments would prevent her from sinking; but to the astonishment of the men they found that the boat was rapidly losing her buoyancy, and fast becoming unmanageable; indeed she was filling with water, which came up to the men's waists. The air-tight boxes had evidently filled; and they remembered, too late, that the valves, with which each box is provided to let out any water that may leak in, had been left unscrewed in the excitement of starting. Their boat, with the air-tight compartments filled with water, virtually ceased to be a life-boat, and her crew had to struggle for their own safety. Although then within a quarter of a mile of the brig, there was no help for it, they could make no farther way against the storm; the boat was unmanageable, and the only chance of life left to the boatmen themselves, was to run her ashore on the nearest part of the coast. It was doubtful whether they would be able to succeed even in this; and it was not until they had battled for four hours with the sea and gale, that they were able to get ashore in Westgate Bay.

There the coastguard were ready to receive them, and did their best to revive the exhausted men. As soon as it was discovered at Margate that the first life-boat was disabled, the large life-boat, the Friend of all Nations, was got ready with every speed, and with much trouble dragged round to the lee side of the pier, where it was launched. Away she started, her brave crew doing all they could to battle with the gale, and force their way out to the wreck; but all their efforts were in vain; the tremendous wind was right against them; the sea completely overpowered them, and prevented their beating to windward; the tiller gave way, and after a hard struggle her crew had also to give up the attempt, and this life-boat in turn was driven ashore about one mile from the town. With both their life-boats wrecked, the Margate men almost gave up all hopes of saving the crew of the vessel and the men that were left on board; but this should not be the case until every possible effort had been made; but it was with small hope for the shipwrecked, and with much apprehension for the boats themselves, that the people watched two luggers—the Nelson and the Lively—undaunted by the fate of the life-boats, stagger out mid the sweeping seas to the rescue.

The fate of one lugger, the Nelson, was soon settled; a fearful squall of wind caught her before she had got many hundred yards clear of the pier; it swept her foremast out of her, and her crew had to make every possible effort to avoid being driven on the rocks, and there wrecked.

The Lively was more fortunate; she beat her way out to sea, but found so heavy a surf breaking over the Sands, that it was evidently impossible to cross them, or to get near the wreck.

The Margate people became full of despair, and many a bitter tear was shed for sympathy and for personal loss as they watched the wreck, and thought of the poor fellows perishing slowly before their eyes, apparently without any possibility of being saved.

A rumour spread among the crowd that the lieutenant of the coastguard had sent an express off to Ramsgate, for the Ramsgate steamer and life-boat; but this scarcely afforded any hope, as it was thought impossible that the steamer and life-boat could make their way round the North Foreland in the teeth of so tremendous a gale, or that, if they did so, it was supposed impossible that either the ship could hold together, or the crew live, exposed as they were in the rigging, during the time it would of necessity take the steamer and boat to get to them.

We now change the scene to Ramsgate.

From an early hour on the Monday morning, groups of boatmen assembled on the pier at Ramsgate; they were occasionally joined by some of the more hardy among the townsmen, or by a stray visitor, attracted by the wild scene that the storm presented.

The boatmen could faintly discern, in the intervals between the snow-squalls, a few vessels in the distance, running before the gale, and they were keenly on the watch for signals of distress, that they might hasten to the rescue.

But no such signal was given.

Every now and then, as the wind boomed by, some landsmen suggested that it was the report of a gun from one, or other, of the three light-vessels, which guard the dangerous Goodwin Sands; but the boatmen shook their heads, and those who with spy-glasses kept a look-out in the direction of the light-vessels confirmed them in their disbelief.

About nine o'clock, tidings came to Ramsgate that a brig was ashore on the Woolpack Sands off Margate. It was, of course, concluded that the two Margate life-boats would go to the rescue; and although there was much anxiety and excitement as to the result of the attempt the Margate boatmen would certainly make, no one had the least idea that the services of the Ramsgate life-boat would be required. But shortly after twelve a coastguard man from Margate hastened breathless to the pier, and to the harbour-master's office, saying, in answer to eager inquiries as he hurried on, that the two Margate life-boats had been wrecked, and that the Ramsgate boat was wanted.

The harbour-master immediately gave orders, "Man the life-boat."

No sooner had the words passed from his lips than the boatmen, who had crowded round the door in anticipation of the order, rushed away to the boat.

First come, first in; not a moment's hesitation, not a thought of further clothing; they will go as they are, rather than not go at all. The news rapidly spreads; each boatman as he heard it, hastily snatched up his bag of waterproof overalls, and south-wester cap, and rushed down to the boat; and for some time boatman after boatman was to be seen racing down the pier, hoping to find a place still vacant; if the race had been to save their lives, rather than to risk them, it would hardly have been more hotly contested.

Some of those who had won the race and were in the boat, were ill prepared with clothing for the hardships they would have to endure, for if they had not their waterproofs at hand they did not delay to get them, fearing that the crew might be made up before they got to the boat. But these men were supplied by the generosity of their disappointed friends, who had come down better prepared, but too late for the enterprise; the famous cork jackets were thrown into the boat and at once put on by the men.

The powerful steam-tug, well named the Aid, that belongs to the harbour, and has her steam up night and day ready for any emergency that may arise, speedily got her steam to full power, and with her brave and skilful master, Daniel Reading, in command, took the boat in tow, and together they made their way out of the harbour. James Hogben, who, with Reading, has been in many a wild scene of danger, was coxswain, and steered and commanded the life-boat.

It was nearly low water at the time, but the force of the gale was such as to send a good deal of spray dashing over the pier; the snow fell in blinding squalls, and drifted and eddied in every protected nook and corner. It was hard work for the excited crowd of people, who had assembled to see the life-boat start, to battle their way through the drifts and against the wind, snow, and foam to the head of the pier; but there at last they gathered, and many a one felt his heart fail as the steamer and boat cleared the protection of the pier, and encountered the first rush of wind and sea outside. "She seemed to go out under water," said one old fellow; "I would not have gone out in her for the universe." And those who did not know the heroism and determination that such scenes call forth in the breasts of the boatmen, could not help wondering much at the eagerness which had been displayed to get a place in the boat—and this although the hardy fellows knew that the two Margate life-boats had been wrecked in the attempt to get the short distance which separated the wreck from Margate; while they would have to battle their way through the gale for ten or twelve miles before they could get even in sight of the vessel.

It says nothing against the daring or skill of the Margate boatmen, that they failed. In such a gale they could not get to windward against wind and tide, success therefore was almost impossible without the aid of steam; with a steam-boat to tow them into position for dashing in upon the Sands, the Margate boats would in all probability have succeeded; without such assistance the Ramsgate boat would have certainly failed. As soon as the steamer and boat got clear of the Ramsgate pier, they felt the full force of the storm, and it seemed almost doubtful whether they could make any progress against it. They slowly worked their way out of the full strength of the tide, as it swept round the head of the pier, and then began to move ahead a little more rapidly, and were soon ploughing their way through a perfect sea of foam.

The steamer with its engines working full power, plunged heavily along; wave after wave broke over its bows, sent its spray flying over the funnel and mast, and deluged the deck with a tide of water, which, as it rushed aft, gave the men enough to do to hold on.

The life-boat was towing astern with fifty fathom of five-inch hawser out, an enormously strong rope about the thickness of a man's wrist. Her crew already experienced the dangers and discomforts, that they were ready to endure, perhaps, for many hours, and without a murmur, in order to save life.

There was anxiety and fear, but the one thought of anxiety and fear was, as to whether they could possibly be in time to save the lives of the poor fellows, who must, for so many hours, have been clinging to a shattered wreck. It would be hard to give a description to enable one to realize the position of the men in the boat, as they were being towed along by the steamer. The use of a life-boat is, that it will float and live, where other boats would of necessity be swamped, upset, and founder; they are made for, and generally only used on, occasions of extreme danger and peril, for terrible storms and wild seas.

The water flows into the boat, and over it, and it still floats: some huge wave will break over it, and for a moment bury it, but it rises in its buoyancy and shakes itself free; beaten down on its broadside by the waves and wind, it struggles hard, and soon rises again on an upright keel, and defies them to do their worst; and even if some mighty breaker should come rushing along, catch her in its curling arms, and bodily upset her, only for a few seconds would the triumph last, the boat would speedily right again, sitting like an ark of refuge in the boiling sea of foam, while her crew, upheld by their cork jackets, would be floating and struggling around her, until one after another would manage to regain her sides, and clamber in over her low gunwale at the waist, and shortly she would be speeding away again on her life errand. Such were the qualities of the noble boat, which we are watching, while she is urging her way through the dismal seas, while a dozen poor fellows, some nine or ten miles off, are hanging to the shaking shrouds of a tottering mast, the waves that are breaking over them threatening every moment to be their tomb.

Away! away, then, brave boat! gallant crew! God grant you good progress!

Since the moment of clearing the pier, the waves that broke over the boat filled her time after time, and did everything but drown her. The men were up to their knees in water; they bent forward as much as they could, each with a firm hold upon the boat.

The spray and waves rushed over them, and as they beat continuously upon their backs, although they could not penetrate their waterproof clothing, still they chilled them to the bone, for, as the spray fell, it froze, indeed so bitter was the cold that the men's mittens were frozen to their hands.

After a tremendous struggle the steamer seemed to be making head against the storm; they were well clear of the pier and getting on gallantly. They made their way through the Cud Channel, and had passed between the black and white buoys, so well known to Ramsgate visitors, when a fearful sea came heading towards them. It met and broke over the steamer, buried her in foam, and swept along.

The life-boat rose to it, for a moment hung with her bows high in air, and then as she felt the strain of the tow-rope, plunged bodily into the wave, and was almost altogether under water; the men were nearly washed out of her, but at that moment the tow-rope broke, the wave threw the boat back with a jerk, and as the strain of the rope suddenly ceased, the boat fell across the seas which swept in rapid succession over her, and seemed completely at their mercy. Oars out! oars out! was the cry, and the men, as soon as they could get breath, got them out, and began to make every effort to get the boat round again, head to wind, but in vain, the waves tossed the oars up, the wind caught the blades, and it was as much as the men could do to keep them in their hands. The gale was too heavy for them, and they drifted rapidly before wind and tide towards the Brake Shoal, which was directly under their lee, and over which the seas were rushing with great violence. But the steamer, which throughout was handled most admirably, both as regards skill and bravery, was put round as swiftly as possible, and very cleverly brought within a few yards to windward of the boat, as she lay athwart the sea.

The men on board the steamer threw a hauling line on board the boat to which was attached a bran new hawser, and again took the boat in tow.

The tide was still flowing, and as it rose, the wind came up in heavier and heavier gusts, bringing with it a blinding snow and sleet, which, with the spray, still freezing as it fell, swept over the boat, till the men looked, as one said at the time, like a body of ice.

The men could not look to windward for the drifting snow and blinding seas which were continually rushing over them, they only knew that the strong steamer was plunging along, taking all as it came, for they felt the strain on the rope; thus they realized that each moment's suffering and peril brought them nearer to their poor perishing fellow-sailors; and not one heart failed, not one repented of winning the race to the life-boat.

Off Broadstairs, they suddenly felt the way of the boat stop. The rope broken again, was the first thought of all; but on looking round as they were enabled to do, as the boat was no longer being dragged through the seas; they discovered to their utter dismay that the steamer had stopped; they thought that her machinery had broken down, and at once despaired of saving the lives of the shipwrecked, for with the wind as it was, it would be long hours before they could beat up against the gale, and get to the Sands, on which they were told the wreck lay; a moment's suspense and they discovered, to their gladness, that the steamer had merely stopped to let out more cable, fearful that it might break again in the struggle that was before them, as they fought their way round the North Foreland.

Another hour's hard struggle, and they reached the North Foreland. There the sea was running tremendously high—the gale was still increasing; the snow, sleet, and spray, rushed by with hurricane speed.

Although it was only early in the afternoon, the air was so darkened by the storm that it seemed a dull twilight. The captain of the boat was steering; he peered out between his collar and cap, but looked in vain for the steamer. He knew that she was all right, for the rope kept taught; but many times, although she was only a hundred yards ahead, he could see nothing of her, still less able were the men on board the steamer to see the life-boat.

Often did they anxiously look astern, and watch for a break in the drift and scud to see that she was all right; for although there could be no doubt as to the strain upon the rope, she might be towing along bottom up, or have all her men washed out of her, for all they could tell. The master of the steamer watched the seas, which broke over the Aid, making her stagger again, as they rushed towards the life-boat, and several times the fear that she was gone came over him. But steamer and life-boat still battled successfully against the storm.

As soon as they were round the North Foreland, the snow squall cleared and they sighted Margate; all anxiously looked for the wreck, but nothing of her could they see. They saw a lugger riding just clear of the pier, with foremast gone, and anchor down to prevent her being driven ashore by the gale. They next sighted the Margate life-boat driven ashore and abandoned in Westgate Bay, looking a complete wreck, the waves beating over her. A little beyond this they caught sight of the second life-boat, also washed ashore; and then they learnt to realize to the full the gallant efforts that had been made to save the shipwrecked, and the destruction that had been wrought as effort after effort had been overcome by the fury of the storm. But where was the wreck? Had she been beaten to pieces, all lives lost, and were they too late? A heavy mass of cloud and snowstorm rolled on to windward of them in the direction of the Sands off Margate, and they could not make out any signs of the wreck there.

There was just a chance that it was the Woolpack Sand that she was on. They thought it the more likely, as the first intelligence of the wreck that came to Ramsgate declared that such was the case; and accordingly they determined to make for the Woolpack Sand, which was about three miles farther on; they had scarcely decided upon this, when, providentially, there was a break in the drift of the snow to windward, and they suddenly caught sight of the wreck. But for this sudden clearance in the storm they would, as we have said, have proceeded farther on, and some hours must have passed before they could have found out their mistake and got back again, and by that time every soul of the poor shipwrecked crew must have perished.

The master of the steamer made out the flag of distress flying in the rigging of the vessel, the ensign union downwards; she, doubtlessly, was the wreck of which they were in search.

But still it was a question how they could get to her, for she was on the other side of the Sand. To tow the boat round the Sand would take a long time in the face of such a gale; and for the boat to make across the Sand seemed almost impossible, so tremendous was the sea that was running over it.

Nevertheless there was no hesitation on the part of the life-boat crew. It seemed a forlorn hope, a very rushing upon destruction, to attempt to force the boat under canvas through such a surf and sea; but they looked at the tottering wreck; they felt how any moment might be the last to the poor fellows clinging to her, and they could not bear to think of the delay that would be occasioned by their going round the Sands.

Without hesitation, therefore, they cast off the tow-rope, and were about setting sail, when they found that the tide was running so furiously that they must be towed at least three miles to the eastward before they would be sufficiently far to windward to make certain of fetching the wreck.

It was a hard struggle to get the tow-rope on board again, tossed about as they were by the tumbling seas, and a bitter disappointment to all, that an hour, or more, of their precious time must be consumed before they could possibly get to the rescue of their endangered brother seamen; but there was no help for it, and away again they went in tow of the steamer. The snow-squall came on again, and they lost sight of the wreck, but all kept an anxious look-out, and now and then, in a break in the squall, they could catch a glimpse of her. They could see that she was almost buried in the waves which broke over her in great clouds of foam, and again many and weary were the doubts and speculations, as to whether any on board of her could still be alive. For twenty minutes or so they battled steadily on against wind and tide.

The gale, which had been increasing since the morning, came on heavier than ever, and roared like thunder over head; the sea was running so furiously and meeting the life-boat with such tremendous force that the men had to cling on their hardest not to be washed out of her, and at last the new tow-rope could no longer resist the increasing strain, and suddenly parted with a tremendous jerk; there was no thought of picking up the cable again—they could stand no further delay, and one and all of her crew rejoiced to hear the captain of the life-boat give orders to set sail.