Lifeboat!

by Margaret Dickinson

  But Macready slammed the controls to full astern and the rudder, chewing at the foaming water, inched the boat away from the ship.

  Briefly he saw the agonised expressions on the faces of the desperate crew above him. They thought he was leaving them.

  Another cable snapped and two of the remaining packages of timber came hurtling down the slanting deck and into the water. The sea heaved, bringing the stricken vessel nearer to the retreating lifeboat. Another package rolled loose, teetered on the edge of the shifting deck and then toppled into the water dangerously close to the Oakley. Then a fourth rolled off, catching the bows of the lifeboat with a glancing blow making Chas Blake leap back smartly out of the way, swift enough to avoid injury but not quick enough to avoid a drenching from the spray as the heavy package splashed into the sea.

  The lifeboatmen watched, waiting until all the loose timber had come away, but, frustratingly, one package slithered backwards and forwards across the deck, refusing to be pitched into the water. Macready waited a few minutes more, but all the time he was aware that the strength of the ship’s crew, hanging desperately on to the side of the ship, was giving out.

  They could not hold on much longer.

  Falling timber from the listing ship or not, Macready knew he must go back in.

  As he began to inch forward again, nearer and nearer the Hroswitha, even in this moment of crisis that demanded all his attention, refusing to be ignored, refusing to be clamped down, the ugly thought kept pushing its way to the forefront of his mind.

  Where was Julie?

  Chapter Seventeen

  The storm showed no sign of abating and Macready knew he had no choice but to attempt the rescue right now. Skilfully he manoeuvred the Mary Martha Clamp towards the Hroswitha, bringing the Oakley lifeboat almost under the listing starboard side of the ship.

  Perilously close to the vessel, a huge wave brought the coaster towards the lifeboat with a lurch. The lifeboatmen did not waver from their stations but each and every man held his breath.

  A collision seemed inevitable. The sides of the two boats touched and grated together and the crew braced themselves. Then miraculously the same wave that had pitched the Hroswitha towards them now carried the lifeboat forward and away from the looming coaster. Above them the three deckhands and the cook were on the point of exhaustion. Macready brought the lifeboat in again.

  ‘Tim,’ Macready bellowed above the roar of the sea and the wind. ‘Get the loudhailer. Tell them as we go in when the boats touch to jump.’

  Tim shouted the message through the loudhailer but the three men hanging by their arms gave no sign of having understood. The noise of the storm was such that they could probably not hear.

  ‘Let’s give it a try anyway,’ Macready said.

  On the port side of the lifeboat, four crewmen stood with arms outstretched to grab the seamen as the lifeboat went in. The water beneath them swelled and the two vessels rose, first one and then the other, crashing together with more force this time, but at the moment of impact the three deckhands and the cook launched themselves towards the arms of the lifeboatmen. Three men landed relatively safely, with bruises and a twisted ankle, but they were aboard. The fourth—the deckhand who had injured his arm—jumped awkwardly, thudded against the outside of the lifeboat and slithered into the water. Tony Douglas had made a grab at him, but the man had slipped from his grasp.

  ‘Man overboard!’ Tony roared.

  In these seas there were now two dangers for the man in the water. Being crushed between the lifeboat and the coaster or being sucked beneath the Oakley and cut to pieces by the propeller. Anxious faces peered over the side of the lifeboat as Macready at once thrust the control to stop.

  A black head bobbed up in the small space of water between the two boats and a hand clutched at the empty air.

  Tony unhooked the safety chain across the opening where they boarded the lifeboat at the launch and unfastened his own safety chain from the rail. He lowered himself down the scramble net.

  ‘Watch out, Tony!’ Alan Gilbert shouted a warning.

  Tony glanced up and saw the vessel towering above them, a huge menacing bulk tossed mercilessly by the unlimited power of the heavy seas. The coaster heaved upwards on a wave and began to surge towards him, whilst the lifeboat unaffected as yet by the oncoming wave scarcely moved.

  In that instant before the boats collided Tony bent down, crooked his arm and slid it beneath one of the seaman’s armpits. The man clung on and Tony hauled him out of the water, every muscle in his body straining at the enormous effort. Alan leant over and grasped the Turk as Tony dragged him towards the scramble net and the sailor was pulled aboard.

  ‘Quick, Tony. She’s coming!’

  The great ship lunged towards them as Macready rammed the control into full astern. Tony was up the nets and clambering on to the deck when the two boats clashed, trapping his left leg. He gave a howl of pain and then the lifeboat was borne away on the wave and by the thrust of its own engines. Tony collapsed on to the deck of the lifeboat. Alan and Tim carried him to the covered foredeck.

  ‘Don’t bother about me,’ Tony gasped as Alan knelt and seemed about to pull off Tony’s boot. ‘Leave it. It’ll be okay. Get back up there. Cox’n’ll need you.’

  ‘You sure, mate?’

  Tony clenched his teeth against the pain, but he managed to nod and wave Alan away.

  Tim weaved his way round the deck to the coxswain’s cockpit. ‘Mr Macready—Tony’s hurt.’

  ‘Aye, lad, I saw. Is it bad?’

  ‘I dunno. But he won’t let us do anything now.’

  Macready nodded. ‘Pete—radio the ship. Tell them we’ve got the four crew aboard the lifeboat. What about the Captain?’

  Droysen’s voice crackled over the airwaves. ‘… The Captain is ver’ bad. The engineer has come up from below. He was concussed. Has injury on head, but is all right. Over.’

  ‘Can they jump aboard like the deckies?’ Macready wanted to know.

  There was a pause whilst some sort of consultation went on aboard the Hroswitha. Then the First Mate replied, ‘The Captain cannot walk. The engineer will attempt the jump.’

  ‘Right, Pete, tell the First Mate we’ll take the Captain off next if the engineer can help the First Mate take on a breeches buoy. Then we’ll take the engineer and the First Mate last.’

  Droysen’s reply was, ‘Thank you, Coxswain, but I shall be staying aboard the Hroswitha in the Captain’s place.’

  Macready grunted. He would get the others off first and then maybe argue that one out with the First Mate. He could sympathise with their unwillingness to abandon the ship entirely if there was a reasonable hope of being able to ride out the storm. No Captain or First Mate liked to see his ship pass into the hands of the salvage men. And yet, when life was at stake …

  Macready now manoeuvred the Mary Martha Clamp into a position a short distance from the ship so that his bowman—Chas Blake in place of the absent Phil Davis—could fire the rocket carrying the thin line to the stricken vessel. Macready’s voice was calm and his hands steady on the wheel, giving no outward indication of the agony in his mind, as, now in the position he wanted, he gave the order ‘ Let go anchor.’

  Chas Blake fired the rocket. The line snaked towards the Hroswitha but a gust of wind caught it and tossed it carelessly off course and into the water. Chas prepared to make another attempt whilst the lifeboat coxswain concentrated on keeping the Oakley steady in the raging seas.

  Julie, Julie, Julie! The name hammered through his mind and her face floated before his mind’s eye. Macready clenched his jaw and watched his bowman’s second attempt to fire the line across the intervening space. This time the line fell on to the ship but before Droysen, slithering about on the still sloping deck, could grab it, it slipped off and splashed into the sea.

  On the third attempt there was a momentary lull in the wind and the line flew high above the ship and wrapped itself round one of the derricks. The l
ifeboat crew watched as Droysen struggled towards the line and began to haul on it. Across the space went the thicker rope which would carry the breeches-buoy. This Droysen secured to the base of the derrick which was leaning out from the listing ship towards the lifeboat at an angle of about thirty degrees. Then the German First Mate disappeared, climbing the ladder back to the bridge.

  Now that the Mary Martha Clamp was attached to the stricken ship by the breeches-buoy line, the danger to the lifeboat was even greater. Anchored, she could not move away if the ship suddenly lunged towards her, and all eyes watched anxiously as Droysen reappeared with the engineer and between them they half-carried, half-dragged, the huge, almost limp figure of the Captain. Like three drunks, they staggered across the deck, slipping and sliding on the wet sloping surface. They reached the derrick and Macready watched as the First Mate and the engineer propped the sick man against the crane while they prepared to receive the sling of the breeches-buoy which the lifeboatmen now sent across. It took fifteen minutes of struggling to get the helpless man into the sling and by that time, Macready could see—even across the distance that separated them—that the injured engineer and the First Mate who seemed to be carrying all the responsibility, were themselves exhausted. At last they got the heavy man secure in the sling and signalled that they were ready.

  The German Captain was winched across the boiling seas beneath. As the waves relentlessly buffeted the damaged coaster and the tiny lifeboat, it seemed an eternity that the man was being hauled across the space. First the line would go slack as the coaster was borne towards them and the sick man dangled only inches above the water. Then as that same wave hit the lifeboat, the line was stretched taut, almost to breaking-point. Inch by inch the man was drawn closer and willing hands reached out towards him to help him aboard the lifeboat whilst anxious eyes still watched the heaving coaster only a few yards away now.

  A wave bigger than the rest rolled towards them, sweeping the cargo ship towards the lifeboat, just as the sling came over the side of the lifeboat and Schlick was set down.

  The coaster bore down on them.

  ‘Cut the cable,’ Macready roared. ‘Weigh anchor.’

  The lifeboat’s engines throbbed into renewed life, the anchor was hauled clear of the water but nearer and nearer came the huge ship.

  In that split second before impact, Chas Blake wielded the axe and the rope between the two boats was severed in two. The lifeboat, full astern, thrust herself through the water away from the ship.

  Now there remained only the First Mate and the engineer on board the Hroswitha.

  Macready glanced at the echo sounder and saw that he only had about six feet draught. With each huge wave the helpless cargo ship was being pushed, bows foremost, nearer and nearer the sandbank.

  ‘Pete, call up the coaster. Tell the First Mate if we don’t take him and the engineer off now, they’ll be on the sandbank. I presume he knows that,’ Macready added, a little doubtful of the First Mate’s condition considering all that had occurred during the last half an hour.

  A few moments later Pete was reporting back. ‘He says he and the engineer want to stay aboard.’

  Macready shrugged, but said, ‘Tell him we’ll stand by.’

  Macready pulled the lifeboat back away from the Hroswitha to a distance of about a hundred yards. He was hardly able to relax even now, but at least for the time being the pressure had eased a little—at least the pressure of this particular service.

  Now he had more time to think and the agonising thoughts crowded into his head.

  Julie. Was there still no word? Surely Jack would have sent word if they had been found? He doubted that the inshore boat would have been able to launch in these seas, though he knew the reserve crew would try if there was any chance at all.

  In the comparative lull, Macready said, ‘Pete. Call up Jack and see if there’s any news of—Julie.’

  Unusually solemn-faced, Pete nodded.

  The reply came through a few moments later and Pete repeated the gist of the message to Macready. ‘They have reported the sailing-dinghy Nerissa as missing. Sandy says the car which towed the boat is still on Beach Road with the empty trailer. Jack’s been back to search at Dolan’s Point again, but they’re not there. They must have put back to sea, probably before the weather deteriorated rapidly. Breymouth have been requested to ask for helicopter assistance as soon as available, but they got the same answer as us—not available at present. The ILB will attempt a launch …’ Pete shrugged and turned back towards his radio, unable to bear the look on the big man’s face.

  Grimly Macready received the message in silence. He knew that the chances of the inshore lifeboat even being able to launch in such seas were virtually nil, though he knew the inshore lads would have a real try.

  He knew also that the sailing-dinghy—new and sparkling though she might have been this morning—could be reduced to matchwood in minutes in such heavy seas.

  Macready kept his hands firmly on the helm of the lifeboat, his gaze still upon the German coaster. By his side he felt, rather than saw, young Tim standing at his elbow.

  He had overheard every word of the dreadful message.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Relentlessly the wind, which had veered to northwest, pushed the helpless coaster towards Middle Bank, helped by the tide which had turned and was now flowing into the Wash. Nearer and nearer until finally, as if indeed this were the very aim, the waters surged up into one huge wave bearing the ship aloft and carrying it on to the sandbank. The vessel shuddered and creaked, the derricks rocked and swayed and the whole structure settled on to the sand, still tilting toward the starboard side. The cargo slithered around the deck, crashing into the superstructure, splashing into the water.

  Dimly, through the glass screen of the wheelhouse, the lifeboatmen could see the two men still aboard tossed about like limp rag dolls.

  ‘She’s starting to break up. Now they’ll have to come off,’ Macready muttered and instructed Pete to call up the Hroswitha once more.

  ‘Hroswitha, this is Saltershaven lifeboat. Suggest you abandon ship. We think she is starting to break up. Over.’

  For a time there was no reply except the crackling over the airwaves. Then the voice of the First Mate was heard weakly. ‘What’s happened? Lifeboat—what’s happened?’

  Pete turned to Macready. ‘ I reckon he must have been thrown about. Sounds confused.’

  ‘Explain what’s happened. We canna do any more. It’s a salvage job now.’

  ‘Hroswitha, this is Saltershaven lifeboat. Your ship has been driven on to the sandbank. Coxswain suggests you let us take you off. Please acknowledge. Over.’

  Again there was only interference and the noise of the wind and the sea whilst Macready and his radio/telephone operator waited.

  Fred Douglas moved along the deck. ‘Mac—we’ve done what we can for the survivors. But that Captain—he’s in a bad way.’

  ‘Right. Pete, tell the First Mate that his Captain needs immediate hospitalisation. He must realise that surely.’

  Pete Donaldson repeated the message into the telephone. Faintly, Droysen’s voice came over. ‘Lifeboat, lifeboat. Take us off.’

  ‘Tell him we’re coming in. Be ready to jump.’

  They saw the engineer and the First Mate emerge from the bridge, clinging to the handrails they slithered down the ladder and clawed at any handhold they could find as they slid down the deck towards the starboard rail.

  Macready now approached the Hroswitha stern first. Nearer and nearer the sandbank until the propellers were churning into the loose sand and the echo sounder was showing no draught beneath the hull of the lifeboat. Closer, closer, inch by inch, and the engineer and the First Mate were hanging over the rail, waiting.

  The first time the lifeboat came close enough for the engineer to try a jump across the intervening space, the man lost his nerve. His hands seemed frozen to the handrail, his eyes glazed with terror, the blood from a gash on his f
orehead smeared across his face by the rain and the sea spray.

  They were within eight feet of the side of the huge hull above them. Fred, his eyes now on the echo sounder to assist Macready, shouted a warning, even as they heard the engine shudder as the propellers were fouled by the sand. Macready pushed the controls to ahead slow and the lifeboat ploughed her way out of the sand and came away from the ship a little. As the gap widened between the two vessels, the engineer seemed to realise that he had missed his chance and looked as if he were about to attempt to jump the ever-increasing gap between himself and the lifeboat.

  Gesticulating wildly, Chas Blake yelled at the German, ‘No, no. Wait, man, wait!’

  Once more, with infinite patience and gentleness, the coxswain put the controls into astern slow, but they could get no nearer, even though the Hroswitha, embedded in the sand, was now safer than she had been drifting at the mercy of the seas. Now she was held, she was not so much of a threat to the lifeboat. But still Macready could not reverse the Oakley near enough for the men to jump.

  ‘Chas,’ Macready shouted, ‘get ready to fire a line up. We canna get close enough for them to jump.’

  Once more the lifeboat went in and Chas fired a line which snaked up and wrapped itself over the deck rail. Both men made a grab for it and hauled a thicker rope aboard. They fastened this to the foot of the derrick and Chas secured his end to the stern of the lifeboat. The engineer was first down the rope, swaying above the seas he came down steadily, hand over hand, sliding down towards the box at the stern of the Oakley. Chas and Fred Douglas reached out to catch him as his feet touched the lifeboat.

  Macready fought the controls for now it was the lifeboat which was in danger of being driven on to the sandbank and becoming embedded alongside the coaster.

  The First Mate was on his way down. A wave swept in and pushed the lifeboat towards the coaster so that the rope slackened and the man on the rope was dipped downwards towards the water. He clung on as Macready eased the Oakley forward and the rope tightened again.