While some of the men were engaged in fruitless efforts to save this man, the rest of the crew, having suffered little, were about to launch the boat a second time, when the women again rushed forward and clung to them with such eager entreaties, that they began at last to entertain the idea of the storm being too wild for them to venture off.

Lest the reader should unjustly censure these men, we must remind him of the fact that the self-righting principle not having at that time been discovered, the danger incurred in case of an upset was very great, and the boat about which we are writing, being small, ran considerable risk of being capsized by the heavy seas. In fact, almost the only difference between lifeboats and ordinary boats, at this time, was the incapacity of the former to sink when filled with water, owing to the buoyancy of the air-chambers fitted round their sides. If filled by a sea, much valuable time had to be lost in baling out the water before the oars could be effectively resumed, and if overturned it was a matter of the greatest difficulty for the men in the water to right them again; in some cases it had proved impossible. All these defects are remedied now-a-days; but more on this head hereafter.

While the men were in this undecided state of mind, regardless alike of the commands and the taunts of the c.o.xswain, two men were seen to leap down the slope that lay between the cliffs and the sea, and make for the group of boatmen at full speed. As they drew near they were recognised to be Mr Hamilton, a young midshipman, then on leave of absence, and his 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 ash.o.r.e in Saint Margaret's Bay; now then, all together, and with a will!"

So powerful was the influence of the young middy's clear voice and prompt action, that the men with one accord shoved the lifeboat into the sea; succeeded in keeping her stern to the waves until they were beyond the 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 to their homes, there to throw on some additional covering, and hasten towards the same spot by land.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

SAVING THE Pa.s.sENGERS AND CREW--OUR HEROES DISTINGUISH THEMSELVES.

When Bax and his party arrived at Saint Margaret's Bay, the scene of wreck and death had already begun.

The vessel was just discernible in the midst of the turmoil of warring elements that filled the dark air with misty spray. A boat had tried to reach the sh.o.r.e with a number of pa.s.sengers--chiefly men--in her. Her fate was quickly sealed. A huge breaker upset her, and six of the dead bodies of her crew had already been plucked from the sea, and laid on the shingle. The rest were being hurled on the land and swept back by the force of the returning waves, until the people a.s.sembled there caught and dragged them also beyond their reach.

Messengers had already been sent to the nearest lifeboat stations, and the people who remained behind were either occupied in attempting to recover the bodies of the drowned, as above described, or in suggesting impossible plans for conveying a line on board the ill-fated vessel.

"Ha! here comes the man as'll tell us wot's to be done, and do it too!"

cried one of the boatmen, "wot say, Bax, can we git a line off, think 'ee?"

Bax stood on the edge of the roaring sea, silent and motionless, with his arms crossed on his broad chest, and his bold gaze directed to the wreck.

"No," said he, after standing a few moments thus, "it can't be done. No mortal man could cross the surf on the inner rocks; but there's a point o' rocks not far to the nor'ard; does any one know how far the tide may cover 'em just now?"

"About half," answered several voices eagerly.

"Ay, so't does," observed a coast-guard-man, "but with sich a surf beatin' on 'em there ain't a rock on the whole pint above water this minute."

"Come, let's go see," cried Bax, s.n.a.t.c.hing a coil of light rope from the hand of a man who stood close by, and hastening away with it in the direction of the rocky point referred to.

In a few seconds he stood on its outer extremity, with Guy Foster, Coleman, and a few of the more courageous men at his side.

The point on which Bax stood was indeed a position of great danger.

Besides being whelmed in driving spray, so that it was a matter of extreme difficulty to see more than a few yards in any direction, the waves at times rushed up to and over them with such violence as to reach the knees of those who stood there, and threatened to wash them off.

Nevertheless, from this point Bax thought it possible that the end of the line might be conveyed on board the "Trident," which could be seen looming high and black in the murky air, lifting and falling with a heavy crash as each successive billow broke under and over her, carrying on with irresistible violence the work of destruction. Both chains had given way, and she was now rolling a helpless wreck on the rocks.

"D'ye mean to try it?" said Guy, anxiously, as he observed his friend fastening the line round his waist.

"Hold the end of it, Guy, and pay out," said Bax, "mind you don't haul in unless you're _sure_ I'm goin' down."

With this caution, Bax plunged into the surf, and struck out for the wreck, having previously placed an open clasp-knife between his teeth.

A cheer broke from the nearest group on the rocks when they witnessed this bold act. It was taken up and re-echoed by those farther up the beach, who knew that some hopeful effort was being made, although they were unable to perceive the precise nature of it. The people on the wreck also heard the cheer, and looked eagerly landward. But to them all was shrouded in darkness. Even Guy quickly lost sight of his friend, and was only made aware of his safety and onward progress by the continued running out of the line. Suddenly it stopped.

"He's a-board," cried Coleman.

"He would jerk on it if he was," said Guy, with a doubtful shake of the head.

"He's sunk," cried one of those who stood by and held the slack of the rope.

A panic seemed to seize the others who stood by. "Haul 'im in!" cried one. "Look alive!" shouted another, "he's a gone man." Before Guy could interfere, they acted on the impulse, and drew in two or three fathoms.

Twisting his left arm suddenly round the rope, Guy planted his foot on a rock and stopped it; at the same time he raised his right hand, and threatened to fell the man nearest to him. The result was that the men desisted from hauling, but when the rope was again felt it became evident that there was no weight at the farther end of it. Guy's heart sank with horror as the empty line was drawn in. For a moment he felt all the agony of despair; but a gleam of hope rushed in upon him on observing that the end of the rope was _cut_, as if with a sharp knife, not by the edge of a rock.

Animated by this hope he hastened back to the beach in quest of another line, resolved himself to attempt to carry it to the wreck.

Guy was right in his conjecture that Bax had cut the rope. On nearing the ship the latter had come unexpectedly on a large rock, under the lee of which he paused to recover breath before making the last gallant struggle towards the wreck. It was this pause that caused the alarm of those on sh.o.r.e. When Bax felt himself dragged violently back to the land, he at once divined the cause, and, knowing that there was no other resource, he seized the clasp-knife, and cut the rope. A few minutes later he swam under the lee of the wreck, and, catching hold of the rigging of the foremast, which had gone by the board when the ship struck, he clambered up the side and soon stood on the quarter-deck.

The hope raised among the pa.s.sengers by the sudden appearance of the gigantic stranger in the midst of them, was quickly dispelled when he told them how he had failed in the main object of his effort. But it revived somewhat when they observed the active and energetic way in which Bax set about preparations for returning to the sh.o.r.e with a line from the ship. His first act was to ask for a blue-light, which after a few minutes was produced. This he set fire to, and, springing into the main rigging, held it aloft, and sent a bright glare for a few minutes, far and wide, over the scene.

The effect of this was twofold. It revealed to the shipwrecked people the dangers by which they were surrounded, and the active efforts that were being made by land and water for their deliverance. On sh.o.r.e, they saw crowds of men and women surrounding an instrument, which Bax, after giving vent to a hopeful cheer, explained was a rocket apparatus.

Scarcely had they learned this, when Bax shouted and waved his hand seaward. On turning their eyes in that direction, they beheld a lifeboat bearing down towards them, her white-painted sides gleaming like the wings of an angel of light in the midst of the dark tempest.

The lifeboat was also seen by the people on sh.o.r.e, and Guy, who at once recognised the figure, and the _vigour_, of his friend with the blue-light, lent able a.s.sistance to those who managed the rocket.

Dennett's Rocket Apparatus, which was being placed in position on the rocks, is an invention by which many human lives are saved on our coasts every year. Like Manby's Mortar Apparatus, it is simple in its action and most effective in operation.

The grand difficulty in the case of a wreck near sh.o.r.e is to establish a communication, by means of a rope, between the wreck and the land; and this difficulty is, of course, much increased when the wreck occurs off a coast lined with rocks or steep cliffs. To swim off from the sh.o.r.e to the wreck, or _vice versa_, is, in most cases, an absolute impossibility. The rocket apparatus has been devised for the purpose of overcoming this difficulty. By means of it a light "line" as it is called, or rope, the thickness of the point of one's little finger, can be thrown over a wreck lying at a distance of several hundred yards from the beach. This line, when caught, is the means by which many a life has been saved from the devouring sea. The _modus operandi_ will be seen in the sequel.

The apparatus consists of five parts; the rocket, the stand, the line, the whip, and the hawser. The rocket is a strong metal cylinder, of about eighteen inches in length, and more than two in diameter. When about to be used a long stick is attached to it, and the principle on which it acts is precisely similar to that of the small rockets used in our pyrotechnic displays. The stand is a tripod supporting a rest for the rocket. The line, which is made of the best material, is coiled in a large box in a zig-zag manner on a number of pegs; these pegs, when withdrawn in a ma.s.s by removing the bottom of the box to which they are attached, leave the line loose and free to fly out with the utmost rapidity. The end of the line is fastened to the head of the rocket.

Any one who has stood near an ordinary rocket when it was being fired, can form some conception of the force and furor with which this iron monster springs into the air and dashes out to sea in the teeth of the wildest storm. So tremendous is the gush of fire and smoke, that it has to be let off by means of a lock, the trigger of which is pulled by a man standing some yards distant with a cord attached to it in his hand.

Before the rocket was quite ready for action, the lifeboat had approached the wreck, a hundred yards or so to windward of her. Here they cast anchor in such a position that by paying out cable they could veer down towards her slowly and endeavour to range up under her lee.

Every different operation the lifeboat had to perform was fraught with extreme danger. The mere being overwhelmed by the furious sea and filled was comparatively a trifling risk. This it had been twice already, and, but for the time lost in bailing out, it would have been much earlier on the scene. While paying out cable there was the fear of the rope breaking or the anchor dragging; then, on nearing the wreck, there was the risk of being dashed to pieces on the rocks, and after getting under her lee, the surging of the waves kept them constantly on the verge of being hurled against the rigging. The wreck of the foremast, too, which still lay rolling alongside, was a source of constant anxiety, and the rolling of the ship itself rendered it probable that one or both of the remaining masts would give way and fall over the side, in which case the destruction of the boat would be almost inevitable. Add to this the intense darkness, the terrible uproar of wind and water, and the difficulty of acting effectively in a boat that pitched and swooped wildly on the broken seas like the plungings of a fiery charger,--and some faint idea may be formed of the horrors, as well as the dangers of the lifeboat service.

Gradually, but surely, the boat dropped nearer and nearer to the doomed ship, under the guidance of her able c.o.xswain. As it pa.s.sed under the stern a cheer burst from the crowd of eager faces that gazed over the side of the "Trident." Yet there were many hearts there that grew faint and chill when they beheld the little white speck that seemed to be their only hope of rescue in that dark hour. "What hope was there that such a nutsh.e.l.l should save them all?" they thought, perchance, on seeing it approach. They little knew the wonderful vitality of a lifeboat!

Just as it pa.s.sed under the quarter, a sea swept it right up into the mizzen-chains. The utmost efforts of the crew to fend off were unavailing. As the billow rolled on, the boat dropt swiftly, sc.r.a.ping against the ship's side as it fell into the trough of the sea, and escaping an upset almost by a miracle.

"Throw a line aboard!" shouted Bax, who stood on the lee bulwarks, high above the crowd, holding on by the mizzen-shrouds.

The middy caught up the instrument used for this purpose, and threw a line on board at once. This steadied the boat a little, and, watching their opportunity, they succeeded in lowering three women and a child into it by means of a bow-line.

In this way, one by one, the females and children were placed in the boat until it was full. Then there was a cry to shove off, and a rush was made by the more timid and ignorant among the pa.s.sengers, who thought they were about to be forsaken. Bax had foreseen this. He and several of the sailors met and checked the crowd, and before any mischief could be done the boat was away.

It made straight for the sh.o.r.e where hundreds of stout arms were ready to seize it. The midshipman stood on the bow with a rope in his hand.

The sea through which they rushed was milk white with foam. To prevent the boat broaching-to and being rolled over on the beach was now the main effort of the c.o.xswain. On they went steadily. A wave broke under them, carried them on its boiling crest with lightning speed, and launched them with a roar like thunder on the shingle. The rope was thrown before they touched. It was seized and manned; and before the retiring wave could suck them back, the lifeboat with her living freight was run high upon the beach.

She was soon emptied and relaunched, for there was no time to waste.

Many lives were still in danger, and the "Trident" could not be expected to hold together long.