The coxswain went by the name of Sturdy Bob among his mates. Among the women of the village he was better known as handsome Bob, and, looking at him, you could not help seeing that both titles were appropriate, for our coxswain was broad and strong as well as good-looking, with that peculiar1 cast of features and calm decided2 manner which frequently distinguish the men who are born to lead their fellows.
Robert Massey, though quite young, was already a leader of men—not only by nature but by profession—being coxswain of the Greyton lifeboat, and, truly, the men who followed his lead had need to be made of good stuff, with bold, enthusiastic, self-sacrificing spirits, for he often led them into scenes of wild—but, hold! We must not forecast.
Well, we introduce our hero to the reader on a calm September evening, which blazed with sunshine. The sun need not have been mentioned, however, but for the fact that it converted the head of a fair-haired fisher-girl, seated beside Bob, into a ball of rippling3 gold, and suffused4 her young cheeks with a glow that rudely intensified5 her natural colour.
She was the coxswain’s bride-elect, and up to that date the course of their true love had run quite smoothly6 in spite of adverse7 proverbs.
“I can’t believe my luck,” said Bob, gravely.
He said most things gravely, though there was not a man in Greyton who could laugh more heartily8 than he at a good joke.
“What luck do you mean, Bob?” asked Nellie Carr, lifting her eyes from the net she was mending, and fixing them on the coxswain’s bronzed face with an air of charming innocence9. Then, becoming suddenly aware of what he meant without being told, she gave vent10 to a quick little laugh, dropped her eyes on the net, and again became intent on repairs.
“To think,” continued Bob, taking two or three draws at his short pipe—for our hero was not perfect, being, like so many of his class, afflicted11 with the delusion12 of tobacco!—“to think that there’ll be no Nellie Carr to-morrow afternoon, only a Mrs Massey! The tide o’ my life is risin’ fast, Nellie—almost at flood now. It seems too good to be true—”
“Right you are, boy,” interrupted a gruff but hearty13 voice, as a burly fisherman “rolled” round the stern of the boat in front of which the lovers were seated on the sand. “W’en my Moggie an’ me was a-coortin’ we thought, an’ said, it was too good to be true, an’ so it was; leastwise it was too true to be good, for Moggie took me for better an’ wuss, though it stood to reason I couldn’t be both, d’ee see? an’ I soon found her wuss than better, which—”
“Come, come, Joe Slag14,” cried Bob, “let’s have none o’ your ill-omened growls15 to-night. What brings you here?”
“I’ve comed for the key o’ the lifeboat,” returned Slag, with a knowing glance at Nellie. “If the glass ain’t tellin’ lies we may have use for her before long.”
Massey pulled the key from his pocket, and gave it to Slag, who was his bowman, and who, with the exception of himself, was the best man of the lifeboat crew.
“I’ll have to follow him,” said Bob, rising soon after his mate had left, “so good-bye, Nellie, till to-morrow.”
He did not stoop to kiss her, for the wide sands lay before them with fisher-boys playing thereon—apparently in their fathers’ boots and sou’-westers—and knots of observant comrades scattered16 about.
“See that you’re not late at church to-morrow, Bob,” said the girl, with a smile and a warning look.
“Trust me,” returned Bob.
As he walked towards the lifeboat-house—a conspicuous17 little building near the pier—he tried to blow off some of the joy in his capacious breast by whistling.
“Why, Slag,” he exclaimed on entering the shed, “I do believe you’ve been an’ put on the blue ribbon!”
“That’s just what I’ve done, Bob,” returned the other. “I thought you’d ’ave noticed it at the boat; but I forgot you could see nothin’ but the blue of Nellie’s eyes.”
“Of course not. Who’d expect me to see anything else when I’m beside her?” retorted Bob. “But what has made you change your mind? I’m sure the last time I tried to get you to hoist18 the blue-peter ye were obstinate19 enough—dead against it.”
“True, Bob; but since that time I’ve seed a dear woman that I was fond of die from drink, an’ I’ve seed Tom Riley, one of our best men, get on the road to ruin through the same; so I’ve hoisted20 the blue flag, as ye see.”
“That’s a good job, Slag, but don’t you forget, my lad, that the blue ribbon won’t save you. There’s but one Saviour21 of men. Nevertheless, it’s well to fight our battles under a flag, an’ the blue is a good one—as things go. Show your colours and never say die; that’s my motto. As you said, Slag, the glass is uncommon22 low to-day. I shouldn’t wonder if there was dirty weather brewin’ up somewhere.”
The coxswain was right, and the barometer23 on that occasion was a true prophet. The weather which “brewed up” that evening was more than “dirty,” it was tempestuous24; and before midnight a tremendous hurricane was devastating25 the western shores of the kingdom. Many a good ship fought a hard battle that night with tide and tempest, and many a bad one went down. The gale26 was short-lived but fierce, and it strewed27 our western shores with wreckage29 and corpses30, while it called forth31 the energies and heroism32 of our lifeboat and coastguard men from north to south.
Driving before the gale that night under close-reefed topsails, a small but well-found schooner33 came careering over the foaming35 billows from the regions of the far south, freighted with merchandise and gold and happy human beings. Happy! Ay, they were happy, both passengers and crew, for they were used by that time to facing and out-riding gales36; and was not the desired haven37 almost in sight—home close at hand?
The captain, however, did not share in the general satisfaction. Out in “blue water” he feared no gale, but no one knew better than himself that the enemy was about to assail38 him at his weakest moment—when close to land. No one, however, could guess his thoughts as he stood there upon the quarter-deck, clad in oil-skins, drenched39 with spray, glancing now at the compass, now at the sails, or at the scarce visible horizon.
As darkness deepened and tempest increased, the passengers below became less cheerful, with the exception of one curly-haired little girl, whose exuberant40 spirit nothing could quell41. Her young widowed mother had given in to the little one’s importunities, and allowed her to sit up late on this the last night at sea, to lend a helping42 hand while she packed up so as to be ready for landing next day. Consent had been the more readily given that the white-haired grandfather of little Lizzie volunteered to take care of her and keep her out of mischief43.
The other passengers were as yet only subdued44, not alarmed. There were men and women and little ones from the Australian cities, rough men from the sheep farms, and bronzed men from the gold mines. All were busy making preparations to land on the morrow. With the exception of those preparations things on board went on much as they had been going on in “dirty weather” all the voyage through.
Suddenly there was a crash! Most of the male passengers, knowing well what it meant, sprang to the companion-ladder—those of them at least who had not been thrown down or paralysed—and rushed on deck. Shrieks45 and yells burst forth as if in emulation46 of the howling winds. Crash followed crash, as each billow lifted the doomed47 vessel48 and let her fall on the sands with a shock that no structure made by man could long withstand. Next moment a terrific rending49 overhead told that one, or both, of the masts had gone by the board. At the same time the sea found entrance and poured down hatchways and through opening seams in cataracts50. The inclined position of the deck showed that she was aground.
The very thought of being aground comforted some, for, to their minds, it implied nearness to land, and land was, in their idea, safety. These simple ones were doomed to terrible enlightenment. Little Lizzie, pale and silent from terror, clung to her grandfather’s neck; the young widow to his disengaged arm. With the other arm the old man held on to a brass51 rod, and prevented all three from being swept to leeward52, where several of the women and children were already struggling to escape from a mass of water and wrecked53 furniture.
“Come on deck—all hands!” shouted a hoarse54 voice, as one of the officers leaped into the cabin, followed by several men, who assisted the people to rise.
It is usual to keep passengers below as much as possible in such circumstances, but the position of the schooner, with her bow high on a bank, and her stern deep in the water, rendered a different course needful on this occasion.
With difficulty the passengers were got up to the bow, where they clustered and clung about the windlass and other points of vantage. Then it was that the true nature of their calamity56 was revealed, for no land was visible, nothing was to be seen around them but a hell of raging foam34, which, in the almost total darkness of the night, leaped and glimmered57 as if with phosphoric light. Beyond this circle of, as it were, wild lambent flame, all was black, like a wall of ebony, from out of which continually there rushed into view coiling, curling, hoary-headed monsters, in the shape of roaring billows, which burst upon and over them, deluging58 the decks, and causing the timbers of the ship to writhe59 as if in pain.
“We’ve got on the tail o’ the sands,” muttered a sailor to some one as he passed, axe60 in hand, to cut away the wreckage of the masts, which were pounding and tugging61 alongside.
On the sands! Yes, but no sands were visible, for they had struck on an outlying bank, far from shore, over which the ocean swept like the besom of destruction.
It was nearly low water at the time of the disaster. As the tide fell the wreck28 ceased to heave. Then it became possible for the seamen62 to move about without clinging to shrouds63 and stanchions for very life.
“Fetch a rocket, Jim,” said the captain to one of the men.
Jim obeyed, and soon a whizzing line of light was seen athwart the black sky.
“They’ll never see it,” muttered the first mate, as he got ready another rocket. “Weather’s too thick.”
Several rockets were fired, and then, to make more sure of attracting the lifeboat men, a tar-barrel, fastened to the end of a spar, was thrust out ahead and set on fire. By the grand lurid64 flare65 of this giant torch the surrounding desolation was made more apparent, and at the fearful sight hearts which had hitherto held up began to sink in despair.
The mate’s fears seemed to be well grounded, for no answering signal was seen to rise from the land, towards which every eye was anxiously strained. One hour passed, then another, and another, but still no help came. Then the tide began to rise, and with it, of course, the danger to increase. All this time rockets had been sent up at intervals66, and tar-barrels had been kept burning.
“We had better make the women and children fast, sir,” suggested the mate, as a heavy mass of spray burst over the bulwarks67 and drenched them.
“Is this necessary?” asked the widow, as the captain approached her.
“I fear it is,” he replied. “The tide is rising fast. In a short time the waves will be breaking over us again, and you will run a chance of bein’ swept away if we don’t make you fast. But don’t despair, they must have seen our signals by this time, an’ we shall soon have the lifeboat out.”
“God grant it,” murmured the widow, fervently69, as she strained poor little trembling Lizzie to her breast.
But as the moments flew by and no succour came, some gave way altogether and moaned piteously, while others appeared to be bereft70 of all capacity of thought or action. Many began to pray in frantic71 incoherence, and several gave vent to their feelings in curses. Only a few maintained absolute self-possession and silence. Among these were the widow and one or two of the other women.
They were in this condition when one of the crew who had been noted72 as a first-rate singer of sea songs, and the “life of the fo’c’s’l,” had occasion to pass the spot where the passengers were huddled73 under the lee of the starboard bulwarks.
“Is there never a one of ye,” he asked, almost sternly, “who can pray like a Christian74 without screechin’? You don’t suppose the Almighty’s deaf, do you?”
This unexpected speech quieted the noisy ones, and one of the women, turning to a man beside her, said, “You pray for us, Joe.”
Joe was one of those who had remained, from the first, perfectly75 still, except when required to move, or when those near him needed assistance. He was a grave elderly man, whose quiet demeanour, dress, and general appearance, suggested the idea of a city missionary—an idea which was strengthened when, in obedience76 to the woman’s request, he promptly77 prayed, in measured sentences, yet with intense earnestness, for deliverance—first from sin and then from impending78 death—in the name of Jesus. His petition was very short, and it was barely finished when a wave of unusual size struck the vessel with tremendous violence, burst over the side and almost swept every one into the sea. Indeed, it was evident that some of the weaker of the party would have perished then if they had not been secured to the vessel with ropes.
It seemed like a stern refusal of the prayer, and was regarded as such by some of the despairing ones, when a sudden cheer was heard and a light resembling a great star was seen to burst from the darkness to windward.
“The lifeboat!” shouted the captain, and they cheered with as much hearty joy as if they were already safe.
A few minutes more and the familiar blue and white boat of mercy leaped out of darkness into the midst of the foaming waters like a living creature.
It was the boat from the neighbouring port of Brentley. Either the storm-drift had not been so thick in that direction as in the neighbourhood of Greyton, or the Brentley men had kept a better look-out. She had run down to the wreck under sail. On reaching it—a short distant to windward—the sail was lowered, the anchor dropped, the cable payed out, and the boat eased down until it was under the lee of the wreck. But the first joy at her appearance quickly died out of the hearts of some, who were ignorant of the powers of lifeboats and lifeboat men, when the little craft was seen at one moment tossed on the leaping foam till on a level with the ship’s bulwarks, at the next moment far down in the swirling79 waters under the mizzen chains; now sheering off as if about to forsake80 them altogether; anon rushing at their sides with a violence that threatened swift destruction to the boat; never for one instant still; always tugging and plunging81 like a mad thing. “How can we ever get into that?” was the thought that naturally sprang into the minds of some with chilling power.
Those, however, who understood the situation better, had more legitimate82 ground for anxiety, for they knew that the lifeboat, if loaded to its utmost capacity, could not carry more than half the souls that had to be saved. On becoming aware of this the men soon began to reveal their true characters. The unselfish and gentle made way for the women and children. The coarse and brutal83, casting shame and every manly84 feeling aside, struggled to the front with oaths and curses, some of them even using that false familiar motto, “Every man for himself, and God for us all!”
But these received a check at the gangway, for there stood the captain, revolver in hand. He spoke85 but one word—“back,” and the cravens slunk away. The mild man who had offered prayer sat on the ship’s bulwarks calmly looking on. He understood the limited capacity of the boat, and had made up his mind to die.
“Now, madam, make haste,” cried the mate, pushing his way towards the widow.
“Come, father,” she said, holding out her hand; but the old man did not move.
“There are more women and little ones,” he said, “than the boat can hold. Good-bye, darling. We shall meet again—up yonder. Go.”
“Never!” exclaimed the widow, springing to his side. “I will die with you, father! But here, boatman, save, oh, save my child!”
No one attended to her. At such terrible moments men cannot afford to wait on indecision. Other women were ready and only too glad to go. With a sense almost of relief at the thought that separation was now impossible, the widow strained the child to her bosom86 and clung to her old father.
At that moment the report of a pistol was heard, and a man fell dead upon the deck. At the last moment he had resolved to risk all and rushed to the side, intending to jump into the boat.
“Shove off,” was shouted. The boat shot from the vessel’s side. The bowman hauled on the cable. In a few seconds the oars55 were shipped, the anchor was got in, and the overloaded87 but insubmergible craft disappeared into the darkness out of which it had come.
The wretched people thus left on the wreck knew well that the boat could not make her port, land the rescued party, and return for them under some hours. They also knew that the waves were increasing in power and volume with the rising water, and that their vessel could not survive another tide. Can we wonder that most of them again gave way to despair—forgetting that with God “all things are possible?”
They were not yet forsaken88, however. On the pier-head at Greyton their signals had indeed been observed, but while the Brentley boat, owing to its position, could run down to the wreck with all sail set, it was impossible for that of Greyton to reach it, except by pulling slowly against wind and tide.
The instant that Bob Massey saw the flare of the first tar-barrel he had called out his men. One after another they came leaping over the rocks—eager for the God-like work of saving life.
It is one of the grand characteristics of our lifeboatmen that on being summoned to the fight there are often far more volunteers than are required. Joe Slag, as in duty bound, was first to answer the call. Then several of the younger men came running down. Last of all—almost too late—Tom Riley appeared, buckling89 on his lifebelt as he ran. His gait was not quite steady, and his face was flushed. The coxswain was quick to note these facts.
“Take that lifebelt off!” he said, sternly, when Riley came up.
No need to ask why. The tippler knew the reason why only too well, and he also knew that it was useless as well as dangerous to disobey the coxswain. He took off the belt at once, flung it down, and staggered away back to his grog-shop.
A powerful young fisherman—who had felt almost heart-broken by being refused permission to go for want of room—gladly put on the belt and took Riley’s place. Another minute and they were out of the harbour, battling with the billows and fighting their way inch by inch against the howling blast. At last they got out so far that they could hoist sail and run with a slant90 for the wreck.
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1
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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slag
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| n.熔渣，铁屑，矿渣；v.使变成熔渣，变熔渣 | |
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growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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barometer
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| n.气压表，睛雨表，反应指标 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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devastating
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| adj.毁灭性的，令人震惊的，强有力的 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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strewed
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| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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assail
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| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
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drenched
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| 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） | |
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exuberant
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| adj.充满活力的；（植物）繁茂的 | |
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quell
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| v.压制，平息，减轻 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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emulation
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| n.竞争；仿效 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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cataracts
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| n.大瀑布( cataract的名词复数 )；白内障 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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deluging
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| v.使淹没( deluge的现在分词 )；淹没；被洪水般涌来的事物所淹没；穷于应付 | |
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writhe
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| vt.挣扎，痛苦地扭曲；vi.扭曲，翻腾，受苦；n.翻腾，苦恼 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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shrouds
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| n.裹尸布( shroud的名词复数 )；寿衣；遮蔽物；覆盖物v.隐瞒( shroud的第三人称单数 )；保密 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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86
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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overloaded
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| a.超载的，超负荷的 | |
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Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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buckling
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| 扣住 | |
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slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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