Chapter XXVI: Saved at Last. Victory or Death

"'Tis done--despite the winds--the roll
Of that storm-maddened fearful sea;
Bravery hath snatched each shivering soul,
O greedy death! from thee.
Then the rough seamen's hands they wring,
And some, o'erpowered by bursting feeling,
Their arms around them wildly fling,
While tears down many a cheek are stealing;
They bless them for their noble deed,
True saviours sent in hour of need."

_N. Michell._

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."