CHAPTER TWELVE.
THE STORM--THE WRECK OF THE HOMEWARD BOUND--THE LIFEBOAT.
A stern chase never was and never will be a short one. Old Coleman, inthe course of quarter of a mile's run, felt that his powers were limitedand wisely stopped short; Bax, Guy, and Tommy Bogey held on at fullspeed for upwards of two miles along the beach, following the road whichwound along the base of the chalk cliffs, and keeping the fugitive wellin view.
But Long Orrick was, as we have seen, a good runner. He kept his grounduntil he reached a small hamlet named Kingsdown, lying about two and ahalf miles to the north of Saint Margaret's Bay. Here he turnedsuddenly to the left, quitted the beach, and made for the interior,where he was soon lost sight of, and left his disappointed pursuers togrumble at their bad fortune and wipe their heated brows.
The strength of the gale had now increased to such an extent that itbecame a matter not only of difficulty but of danger to pass along theshore beneath the cliffs. The spray was hurled against them with greatviolence, and as the tide rose the larger waves washed up with amagnificent and overwhelming sweep almost to their base. In thesecircumstances Guy proposed to go back to Saint Margaret's Bay by theinland road.
"It's a bit longer," said he, as they stood under the lee of a wall,panting from the effects of their run, "but we shall be sheltered fromthe gale; besides, I doubt if we could pass under the cliffs now."
Bax made no reply, but, placing his hand on his friend's arm, stood fora few seconds in the attitude of one who listens with profoundattention.
"There it is," said he at last. "Do ye hear that, Guy?"
"_I_ hear it," cried Tommy Bogey, with some excitement.
"I hear nothing but the howling of the wind," said Guy, "and the roaringof the sea."
"Hush! listen! the minute-gun," said Bax in a low voice; "it comes fromSaint Margaret's Bay; there, did you not--"
"Ah! I heard it," cried the other; "come, let us run down along thebeach a bit, and see if we can make out whereabouts she is."
Guy spoke as if he had no doubt whatever of the cause of the soundswhich had attracted the attention of himself and his friends. Withoutanother word they all bent their heads to the storm, and forced theirway out upon the exposed beach, where they found some fishermenassembled in the lee of a boat-house, looking eagerly towards thedirection whence the sounds came.
"I'm afear'd she's got on the rocks to the nor'ard o' the bay," said oneof the men, as Bax and his companions ran towards them; "there goesanother gun."
A faint flash was seen for an instant away to the southward. It wasfollowed in a few seconds by the low boom of a distant gun. Almost atthe same moment the black heavens seemed to be cleft by a sheet of vividflame, which towered high into the sky, and then went out, leaving thedarkness blacker than before.
"That's a rocket," cried the fishermen.
"Heaven help them," said Bax, as he hastily buttoned his oilskin coatclose up to his chin. "Come, Guy, we'll away and do what we can. Willany of you lads join us?"
Most of the younger men on the ground at once volunteered.
"Stop," cried one of the older men, "the tide's too high; ye can't passthe cliff, I tell ye."
The man was left abruptly by the whole party, for they knew well enoughthat if they took the inland road they might be too late to rendereffectual assistance, and any needless delay in attempting the beachroad could only make matters worse.
There was no lifeboat on this part of the Kentish coast at that time,and the great distance of the spot from Ramsgate or Broadstairs renderedit highly improbable that either of the lifeboats belonging to theseports could be in time to render effectual assistance. Besides, the menknew well that on such a night the crews of these boats would haveenough of work to do in attending to the wrecks in their own immediateneighbourhood.
They followed Bax, therefore, at a steady trot until they reached a partof the perpendicular cliff which projected somewhat towards the sea. Atthe foot of this the waves which on this coast roll to the shore withtremendous volume and power, burst with a loud roar and rushed up inthick foam.
"Don't any of you come on that don't feel up to it," cried Bax, as heawaited the retreat of a wave, and prepared to make a dash. At thatmoment he wheeled round with the look and air of one who had forgottensomething.
"Tommy," said he, laying his hand on the boy's head, "go back, lad,round by the land road."
"No, Bax, _I won't_," replied Tommy, with a fervour of determinationthat would at any other time have raised a laugh in those who heard it.
"Come along, then, you obstinate beggar," said Bax, sternly, seizing theboy by the arms, and throwing him over his shoulder as if he had been alamb!
Tommy's dignity was hurt. He attempted to struggle, but he might aswell have hoped to free himself from the hug of a brown bear as toescape from the vice-like grip of his big friend. In another moment Baxwas whelmed in spray and knee-deep in rushing water.
It was a short dangerous passage, but the whole party got round thecliff in safety, and hastened as rapidly as possible towards the sceneof the wreck.
We must now beg the reader to follow us to another scene, and to go backa few hours in time.
Shortly after the sun set that night, and before the full fury of thestorm broke forth, a noble ship of two thousand tons' burden beat up theChannel and made for the Downs. She was a homeward bound ship, justarrived from Australia with a valuable cargo, and between two and threehundred passengers, many of whom were gold-diggers returning to theirnative land, and nearly all of whom were possessed of a considerable sumin nuggets and gold-dust. The ship was owned by the house of Denham,Crumps, and Company. Her arrival had been already telegraphed to thefirm in Redwharf Lane.
There was rejoicing that evening on board the "Trident." Men and womenand children crowded the high sides of the weather-worn ship, and,holding on by shrouds, ratlines and stays, standing on tip-toe,clambering on carronades, and peeping through holes, gazed long andardently at the white cliffs of dear Old England.
Some of them had not set eyes on the "old country," as it isaffectionately called in our colonies, for many years. Some there werewho had gone out as boys, and were returning bald-headed andgrey-bearded men. There were others who had been out only a few years,but who, happening to be on the spot when the goldfields werediscovered, had suddenly made fortunes. They were returning to surpriseand gladden the hearts of those who, perchance, had sent them off toseek their fortunes with the sad feeling that there was little chance ofseeing them again in this world.
There were ladies, also, who had gone out to the distant land with anunbelieving, almost despairing, hope of finding employment for thosetalents which they had, alas! found to be of but little value at home.These were, in some cases, returning with lucky gold-diggers andblooming children to their native land. In other cases they were merelyabout to visit home to induce some parent or sister, perhaps, to ventureout to the land of gold.
But all, whether young or old, male or female, gentle or simple, weremerry and glad of heart that night as they clustered on the bulwarks ofthe "Trident," and gazed at the longed-for and much loved shore. Therewas no distinction of ranks now. The cabin and the 'tween-deckpassengers mingled together and tried to relieve the feelings of theirhearts by exchanging words of courtesy and goodwill.
The stormy and threatening aspect of the sky had no terrors now for thepassengers on board the "Trident." For weeks and months they had tossedon the bosom of the great deep. They were familiar with the variedmoods of wind and wave; they had faced the dangers of the sea so oftenthat they scarce believed that any real dangers could exist. The verychildren had become sailors; they were precociously weather-wise, andrather fond of being tossed on the waves than otherwise. The prospectof a storm no longer filled them with alarm, as it used to do at thebeginning of the voyage, for they had encountered many storms andweathered them all. Yes, they had experienced all the dangers of thesea, but it was reserved for that
night--that last night of the long,long voyage--to teach them the dangers of the land; the terrors of astorm in narrow waters, among shallows and on a lee-shore,--and toconvince them that for man there is no real safety whatever in thislife, save, only, in the favour and love of God.
There were some on board the "Trident," however, who knew the danger oftheir position full well, but who were too considerate of the feelingsof the women and children to let their knowledge appear even in theirlooks. The sailors knew the danger of a lee-shore; but sailors are to alarge extent a reckless and hopeful class of men, whose equanimity isnot easily upset. The captain, too, and the pilot, were alive to theircritical position, but both were sanguine and hoped to get into theDowns before the storm should break.
A few of the male passengers also seemed to be aware of the fact thatapproaching the Downs on such a night was anything but matter ofgratulation. One in particular, a tall strong man of about forty, witha bushy black beard and a stern aspect, walked about the quarterdeckwith a frown on his countenance that betokened a mind ill at ease.
Going up to the captain, who stood near the wheel, this man asked himwhat he thought of the weather.
"It don't look well; we shall have a dirty night, I fear," replied thecaptain.
"Do you expect to make the Downs before the storm breaks?" inquired thepassenger.
"Well, I _hope_ so," said the Captain.
"Supposing you do," continued the dark man, "do you consider your cablesand ground-tackle strong enough to hold the ship in the face of aneasterly gale?"
"Why do you ask that?" said the Captain in surprise.
"Because," replied the passenger, "I have my doubts on the point."
"Well, to tell you the truth," said the other, in a low tone, "I confessthat my mind is more uneasy on that score than on any other. The cablesare fit enough to hold her in ordinary weather; but if we were obligedto anchor off a lee-shore in a heavy gale on an exposed coast like thisI would be somewhat anxious."
"Why is the ground tackle _not_ strong enough?" asked the passenger.
"Well, it's not easy to answer that," replied the Captain, with a smile,"and yet it ain't difficult to conceive that it would cost a good dealto supply new and heavier chains and anchors to the ship."
"Ay, the old story--_economy_!" said the passenger bitterly, almostfiercely; "a set of selfish land-lubbers who know nothing whatever aboutthe sea, and care for nothing on earth but their own pockets andbellies, are allowed by the Government of this land to send ships loadedwith human beings to sea in such a state that it almost calls for theperformance of a miracle to secure their safe arrival in port. This ispointed out again and again to them without effect. The sea throws itsdead by dozens on our shores every gale that blows, crying out, `Lookhere at the result of economy and selfishness!' Goods to the extent ofthousands of pounds are destroyed annually, and the waves that swallowthem belch out the same complaint. Even the statistics that stare inthe face of our legislators, and are published by their own authority,tell the same tale,--yet little or nothing is done to prevent misersfrom sending ships to sea in a totally unfit condition to face evenordinary dangers. Bah! the thing is past remedy, for the men who shouldact are deaf and blind. Mark my words, Captain; if we don't weather theSouth Foreland before ten o' the clock this night, the `Trident' will bea total wreck before morning."
The passenger turned on his heel with an angry fling and went below,while the Captain, who was somewhat overawed by his vehemence, walkedaft to converse with the pilot.
The gale soon burst on the ship, sending nearly all the passengersbelow, and compelling the Captain to reduce sail. Darkness overspreadthe scene, and as the night wore on, the gale increased to such a degreethat the ship laboured heavily. Soon the lights on the South Forelandwere descried and passed in safety.
"Get the anchors clear," said the pilot. "Ready about there!"
No one ever knew the reason of the order given at that time. Perhapsthe pilot thought he was a little too near the land, and meant to hauloff a little; but whatever the reason might have been, the command wasonly half carried out when the sheet of the jib gave way; the loosenedsail flapped itself to shreds in a second, and the ship, missing stays,fell off towards the shore.
"Better wear ship," cried the Captain, springing in alarm to the pilot'sside.
"Too late for that. Shore's close under our lee. Let go the anchors!"
The shout with which the command was given proved the necessity of itsbeing instantly obeyed; but the men needed no urging, for at that momenta temporary lull in the furious blast allowed them to hear the roaringof the breakers at the foot of the cliffs.
Two anchors were at once let go, and the ship was brought up with atremendous shock.
And now commenced that prolonged struggle for life which is, alas! toooften the lot of those who venture out upon the stormy sea. Yet it wassome time before the passengers of the "Trident" could be brought fullyto realise their danger. It was hard to believe that, after weatheringthe cyclones of the southern seas, and the gales of the Atlantic, theyhad reached home at last to be cast a wreck upon their own threshold,and to perish within hail almost of relatives and friends.
For a long time they refused to credit the appalling truth that theircase was all but hopeless,--anchored as they were close to a lee shore,with inadequate ground tackle, and an increasing gale. When the chainof the smaller anchor snapped, and the Captain ordered the minute-gun tobe fired, and rockets to be thrown up, then the wail of terror began:--
"Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave."
"You'd better order the boats to be lowered," said the dark passenger tothe Captain, with a sneer that seemed unnatural as well as unfeeling inthe circumstances.
The Captain, who was standing by the starboard mizzen shrouds at thetime, glanced angrily at him for a moment, and said:--
"Ha! You know well enough that there ain't boats enough in the ship tocarry all the passengers, and if there were, they could not live for amoment in such a sea."
"Yes," replied the dark man, vehemently, "I know that well enough; and Iknow, too, that there's no lifeboat of any kind aboard, norlife-jackets, nor life-buoys, beyond what would suffice to float somehalf dozen men; and the owners knew this before sending their ship tosea, and, knowing it, they cared not a rap, because they had insuredship and cargo to the full value. Human life, not being counted part ofthe cargo, is of no value whatever to _them_."
"Come, Mr Clelland," said the Captain, reproachfully, "is this a timefor a Christian man to encourage bitter feelings against his fellowsbecause of systems and customs, bad or good?"
"Ay, it _is_ the time," answered the other; "at least if I don't let outmy mind now, it's not likely I'll find a fitter time to do it in thisworld."
He said this somewhat sadly, and turned away, just as the Captain gaveorders to throw up another rocket.
Far along that stormy coast the rocket was seen by hundreds who knewwell what the signal meant, and many of whom, no doubt, offered upprayer to God for those who were in danger. Most of them, however, feltthat they could do nothing in the way of affording aid. Our friend Baxand his companions were not of this mind, as we have seen.
Some of the stout-hearted boatmen of Deal also thought that somethingmight be done, and launched their luggers, but were in some casesobliged to desist owing to the ever-increasing fury of the storm.
The rockets were seen also by another party of seamen, who stood groupedunder the lee of a boat-house far away to the southward. This was thecrew of a small lifeboat which stood ready to be launched. The boat wasquickly run out of its house by command of its coxswain, and the crewhastily equipped themselves for their dangerous work.
They put on life-jackets made of a number of pieces of cork sewed oncanvas, in such a way as to cover their bodies from shoulder to waistwithout interfering with the play of the arms. Some of the men objectedto put these on at first, feeling afraid lest their courage should becalled in
question, in consequence of their using a contrivance whichwas not in such general use at that time as it is now. Their objectionswere overcome, however, except in the case of one young man, whoexclaimed, "No, no, none o' yer floats for me. When my time comes Imust go, and them things won't save me."
The poor man did not see that the same argument, if correct, would havejustified his going off in a coble instead of a lifeboat. The want ofperception on this point, and false pride, cost him his life.
Several young women, wives of some of the men, had assembled there todissuade their husbands from going out on such a terrible night. Thesewere so alarmed at the terrific thunder of the surf on the shores of thelittle bay, and the howling of the wind, that they clung to the men andentreated them with tears not to venture. Is it a matter of wonder thatthese bold fellows, who could not be appalled by the storm, found itdifficult to resist the power of woman's tears? They wavered for a fewseconds; but when the coxswain, who was a cool, intrepid oldman-of-war's man, cried in a hearty voice, "Now then, lads, look alive;shove off and jump in!" every man sprang to his post, and the lifeboatwas afloat in an instant. Through some mismanagement, however, sheturned broadside to the sea, was overturned instantly, and rolled overon the beach. The women shrieked; the men on shore ran to the rescue,and fortunately saved every man with the exception of the one who hadrefused to put on the life-jacket, and who being less able to supporthimself than his companions when washed back into deep water by eachretiring wave, became at length exhausted and ceased to struggle forlife. When he was at last laid hold of and dragged ashore, he was dead.
While some of the men were engaged in fruitless efforts to save thisman, the rest of the crew, having suffered little, were about to launchthe boat a second time, when the women again rushed forward and clung tothem with such eager entreaties, that they began at last to entertainthe idea of the storm being too wild for them to venture off.
Lest the reader should unjustly censure these men, we must remind him ofthe fact that the self-righting principle not having at that time beendiscovered, the danger incurred in case of an upset was very great, andthe boat about which we are writing, being small, ran considerable riskof being capsized by the heavy seas. In fact, almost the onlydifference between lifeboats and ordinary boats, at this time, was theincapacity of the former to sink when filled with water, owing to thebuoyancy of the air-chambers fitted round their sides. If filled by asea, much valuable time had to be lost in baling out the water beforethe oars could be effectively resumed, and if overturned it was a matterof the greatest difficulty for the men in the water to right them again;in some cases it had proved impossible. All these defects are remediednow-a-days; but more on this head hereafter.
While the men were in this undecided state of mind, regardless alike ofthe commands and the taunts of the coxswain, two men were seen to leapdown the slope that lay between the cliffs and the sea, and make for thegroup of boatmen at full speed. As they drew near they were recognisedto be Mr Hamilton, a young midshipman, then on leave of absence, andhis friend Thompson, an old college companion.
They ran straight to the boat, the former shouting, as he came up:--
"Ho! get her off, lads; a large ship ashore in Saint Margaret's Bay; nowthen, all together, and with a will!"
So powerful was the influence of the young middy's clear voice andprompt action, that the men with one accord shoved the lifeboat into thesea; succeeded in keeping her stern to the waves until they were beyondthe roughest of the breakers; and then, laying to their oars manfully,pulled away for the scene of the wreck.
They were soon lost in darkness, and the poor women returned weeping totheir homes, there to throw on some additional covering, and hastentowards the same spot by land.
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