Let us turn back a little at this point, and see how the watchers on Ramsgate pier1 behaved themselves on that night of storm and turmoil2. At the end of the east pier of Ramsgate harbour there stands a very small house, a sort of big sentry-box in fact, of solid stone, which is part and parcel of the pier itself—built not only on it but into it, and partially3 sheltered from the full fury of wind and sea by the low parapet-wall of the pier. This is the east pier watch-house; the marine4 residence, if we may so express it, of the coxswain of the lifeboat and his men. It is their place of shelter and their watch-tower; their nightly resort, where they smoke the pipe of peace and good fellowship, and spin yarns5, or take such repose6 as the nature of their calling will admit of. This little stone house had need be strong, like its inmates7, for, like them, it is frequently called upon to brave the utmost fury of the elements—receiving the blast fresh and unbroken from the North Sea, as well as the towering billows from the same.
This nocturnal watch-tower for muscular men and stout8 hearts, small though it be, is divided into two parts, the outer portion being the sleeping-place of the lifeboat men. It is a curious little box, full of oilskin coats and sou’wester caps and sea-boots, and bears the general aspect of a house which had been originally intended for pigmies, but had got inhabited by giants, somehow, by mistake. Its very diminutive9 stove stands near to its extremely small door, which is in close proximity10 to its unusually little window. A little library with a scanty11 supply of books hangs near the stove-pipe, as if the owners thereof thought the contents had become somewhat stale, and required warming up to make them more palatable12. A locker13 runs along two sides of the apartment, on the coverings of which stand several lanterns, an oil-can, and a stone jar, besides sundry14 articles with an extremely seafaring aspect, among which are several pairs of the gigantic boots before referred to—the property of the coxswain and his mates. The cork15 lifebelt, or jacket of the coxswain, hangs near the door. The belts for use by the other men are kept in an outhouse down among the recesses16 of the pier near the spot to which the lifeboat is usually brought to embark17 her crew. Only five of the lifeboat men, called harbour boatmen, keep watch in and around the little stone house at nights. The rest are taken from among the hardy18 coast boatmen of the place, and the rule is—“first come first served”—when the boat is called out. There is never any lack of able and willing hands to man the Ramsgate lifeboat.
Near the low ceiling of the watch-house several hammocks are slung19, obliging men to stoop a little as they move about. It is altogether a snug20 and cozy21 place, but cannot boast much of the state of its atmosphere when the fire is going, the door shut, and the men smoking!
On the night of the storm that has already been described in our last chapter, the coxswain entered the watch-house, clad in his black oilskin garments, and glittering with salt-water from top to toe.
“There will be more work for us before long, Pike,” he said, flinging off his coat and sou’-wester, and taking up a pipe, which he began to fill; “it looks blacker than ever in the nor’-east.”
Pike, the bowman of the boat, who was a quiet man, vigorous in action, but of few words, admitted that there was much probability of their services being again in demand, and then, rising, put on his cap and coat, and went out to take a look at the night.
Two other men sat smoking by the little stove, and talking in lazy tones over the events of the day, which, to judge from their words, had been already stirring enough.
Late the night before—one of them said, for the information of the other, who appeared to have just arrived, and was getting the news—the steam-tug and lifeboat had gone out on observing signals from the Gull22, and had been told there was a wreck23 on the sands; that they had gone round the back of the sands, carefully examining them, as far as the east buoy24, encountering a heavy ground swell25, with much broken sea, but saw nothing; that they had then gone closer in, to about seven fathoms26 of water, when the lifeboat was suddenly towed over a log—as he styled it, a baulk—of timber, but fortunately got no damage, and that they were obliged to return to harbour, having failed to discover the wreck, which probably had gone to pieces before they got out to the sands; so they had all their trouble for nothing. The man—appealing by look to the coxswain, who smoked in silence, and gazed sternly and fixedly27 at the fire, as if his mind were wandering far away—went on to say, further, that early that morning they had been again called out, and were fortunate enough to save the crew of a small schooner28, and that they had been looking out for and expecting another call the whole day. For the truth of all which the man appealed again by look to the coxswain, who merely replied with a slight nod, while he continued to smoke in silence, leaning his elbows on his knees, with his strong hands clasped before him, sailor fashion, and gazing gravely at the fire. It seemed as if he were resting his huge frame after the recent fatigues29 to which it had been exposed, and in anticipation31 of those which might be yet in store.
Just then the little door opened quickly, and Pike’s dripping head appeared.
“I think the Gull is signalling,” he said, and vanished.
The coxswain’s sou’wester and coat were on as if by magic, and he stood beside his mate at the end of the pier, partly sheltered by the parapet wall.
They both clung to the wall, and gazed intently out to sea, where there was just light enough to show the black waves heaving wildly up against the dark sky, and the foam32 gleaming in lurid33 patches everywhere. The seas breaking in heavy masses on the pier-head drenched34 the two men as they bent35 their heads to resist the roaring blast. If it had been high water, they could not have stood there for a moment. They had not been there long before their constant friend, the master of the steam-tug, joined them. Straining their eyes intently in the direction of the floating-light, which appeared like a little star tossed on the far-off horizon, they observed a slight flash, and then a thin curved line of red fire was seen to leap into the chaos36 of dark clouds.
“There she goes!” cried the coxswain.
“An’ no mistake,” said Pike, as they all ran to get ready for action.
Few and to the point were the words spoken. Each man knew exactly what was to be done. There was no occasion to rouse the lifeboat men on such a night. The harbour-master had seen the signal, and, clad in oilskins like the men, was out among them superintending. The steam-tug, which lies at that pier with her fires lighted and banked up, and her water hot, all the year round, sounded her shrill37 whistle and cast loose. Her master and mate were old hands at the perilous38 work, and lost no time, for wreck, like fire, is fatally rapid. There was no confusion, but there was great haste. The lifeboat was quickly manned. Those who were most active got on the cork lifebelts and leaped in; those who were less active, or at a greater distance when the signal sounded, had to remain behind. Eleven stalwart men, with frames inured39 to fatigue30 and cold, clad in oiled suits, and with lifebelts on, sat on the thwarts40 of the lifeboat, and the coxswain stood on a raised platform in her stern, with the tiller-ropes in his hands. The masts were up, and the sails ready to hoist41. Pike made fast the huge hawser42 that was passed to them over the stern of the steam-tug, and away they went, rushing out right in the teeth of the gale43.
No cheer was given,—they had no breath to spare for sentimental44 service just then. There was no one, save the harbour-master and his assistant with a few men on duty, to see them start, for few could have ventured to brave the fury of the elements that night on the spray-lashed pier. In darkness they left; into darkness most appalling45 they plunged46, with nothing save a stern sense of duty and the strong hope of saving human life to cheer them on their way.
点击收听单词发音
1 pier | |
n.码头;桥墩,桥柱;[建]窗间壁,支柱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 turmoil | |
n.骚乱,混乱,动乱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 partially | |
adv.部分地,从某些方面讲 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 marine | |
adj.海的;海生的;航海的;海事的;n.水兵 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 yarns | |
n.纱( yarn的名词复数 );纱线;奇闻漫谈;旅行轶事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 inmates | |
n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 diminutive | |
adj.小巧可爱的,小的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 proximity | |
n.接近,邻近 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 palatable | |
adj.可口的,美味的;惬意的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 locker | |
n.更衣箱,储物柜,冷藏室,上锁的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 sundry | |
adj.各式各样的,种种的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 cork | |
n.软木,软木塞 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 recesses | |
n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 );(工作或业务活动的)中止或暂停期间;学校的课间休息;某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 );将(墙)做成凹形,在(墙)上做壁龛;休息,休会,休庭 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 embark | |
vi.乘船,着手,从事,上飞机 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 hardy | |
adj.勇敢的,果断的,吃苦的;耐寒的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 slung | |
抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 ); 吊挂; 遣送; 押往 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 snug | |
adj.温暖舒适的,合身的,安全的;v.使整洁干净,舒适地依靠,紧贴;n.(英)酒吧里的私房 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 cozy | |
adj.亲如手足的,密切的,暖和舒服的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 gull | |
n.鸥;受骗的人;v.欺诈 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 wreck | |
n.失事,遇难;沉船;vt.(船等)失事,遇难 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 buoy | |
n.浮标;救生圈;v.支持,鼓励 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 fathoms | |
英寻( fathom的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 fixedly | |
adv.固定地;不屈地,坚定不移地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 schooner | |
n.纵帆船 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 fatigues | |
n.疲劳( fatigue的名词复数 );杂役;厌倦;(士兵穿的)工作服 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 anticipation | |
n.预期,预料,期望 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 foam | |
v./n.泡沫,起泡沫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 lurid | |
adj.可怕的;血红的;苍白的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 drenched | |
adj.湿透的;充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 );在某人(某物)上大量使用(某液体) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 chaos | |
n.混乱,无秩序 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 shrill | |
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 perilous | |
adj.危险的,冒险的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 inured | |
adj.坚强的,习惯的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 thwarts | |
阻挠( thwart的第三人称单数 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 hoist | |
n.升高,起重机,推动;v.升起,升高,举起 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 hawser | |
n.大缆;大索 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 gale | |
n.大风,强风,一阵闹声(尤指笑声等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 sentimental | |
adj.多愁善感的,感伤的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 appalling | |
adj.骇人听闻的,令人震惊的,可怕的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |