“I’m afeared she’s gone,” shouted Slag1 to the coxswain, putting his hand to his mouth to prevent the words being blown bodily away.
A few minutes later, and the despairing people on the wreck5, catching6 sight of the boat, greeted her with a long, wild cheer of reviving hope.
“What is it?” asked the widow, faintly, for she had been growing gradually weaker from prolonged exposure.
“Thank God!” murmured the poor woman, fervently8. “Look up, Lizzie; the lifeboat is coming to save us!”
The child, who had been comparatively warm and sheltered, at the expense of her mother, looked up and smiled.
Soon the boat was alongside, and much the same scene that we have already described was re-enacted; but there were no rebels this time. By the captain’s resolute9 bearing at first many lives had probably been saved.
When most of the people had been lowered into the boat—not without great risk and many bruises—the widow, who, cowering10 with her father and child under the forecastle, had been overlooked, was led to the side with her child.
“Not together, ma’am,” said the captain. “You’d likely drop her. Let me lower the child down first; or come first yourself—that will be better.”
“Give Lizzie to me,” said the grandfather. “I’ll hold her till you are safe, and ready to receive her.”
“Look alive, ma’am,” urged one of the lifeboat men, who had scrambled11 on deck to render assistance.
The widow was soon in the boat, and held out her arms for little Lizzie. Somehow—no one could tell how—the men made a bungle12 of it. Perhaps the very fear of doing so was the cause. Instead of being caught by the boatmen, Lizzie slipped between the boat and the vessel13 into the boiling sea. Giving one agonised cry, the grandfather leaped after her, but the surging boat swept in at the moment, and the old man fortunately fell into that instead of the sea. He was not hurt, for strong arms had been upraised to receive him. The little child rose above the foam14 as she was whirled past the stern of the boat by a swift current. Bob Massey saw her little out-stretched arms. There was no time for thought or consideration. With one bound the coxswain was overboard. Next moment the crew saw him far astern with the child in his arms.
“Get ’em all aboard first!” came back, even against the wind, in Bob’s powerful, deep-toned voice.
Another moment, and he was lost to sight in the boiling waste of waters. Slag knew well what he meant. If they should cast off the rope before rescuing all, for the purpose of picking up the coxswain, there would be no possibility of getting back again to the schooner15, for she was fast breaking up. Every current and eddy16 about these sands was well known to Joe Slag, also the set of the tides—besides, had not Bob got on his lifebelt? He felt, nevertheless, that it was a tremendous risk to let him go. But what could poor Slag do? To cast off at once would have been to sacrifice about a dozen lives for the sake of saving two. It was a fearful trial. Joe loved Bob as a brother. His heart well nigh burst, but it stood the trial. He did his duty, and held on to the wreck!
Duty, on that occasion, however, was done with a promptitude, and in a fashion, that was not usual in one of his sedate17 nature. Fortunately, none but men remained on the wreck by that time.
“Tumble ’em in—sharp!” cried Slag.
The lifeboat men obeyed literally18, and tumbled them in with a celerity that might almost have awakened19 surprise in a sack of potatoes!
To haul up the anchor would have been slow work. Slag—economical by nature—became extravagant20 for once. An axe21 made short work of cable and anchor.
The sail was set with miraculous24 speed, for now the wind was in their favour, and the gay lifeboat bounded off in the direction where Bob had disappeared, as though it felt a lively interest in the recovery of its coxswain. It seemed as if the very elements sympathised with their anxiety, for just then the gale25 sensibly abated27, and the rising sun broke through a rift23 in the grey clouds.
“There he is—I see him!” shouted the man in the bow—pointing eagerly ahead.
“It’s on’y a bit o’ wreck, boy,” cried a comrade.
“Right you are,” returned the bowman.
“There he is, though, an’ no mistake, this time. Port!—port! hard-a-port!”
As he spoke28, the boat swept round into a sort of cross-current among the waves, where an object resembling a man was observed spinning slowly round like a lazy teetotum. They were soon alongside. A dozen claw-like hands made a simultaneous grasp, and hauled the object on board with a mighty29 cheer, for it was, indeed, the coxswain—alive, though much exhausted30—with his precious little curly-haired burden in his arms.
The burden was also alive, and not much exhausted, for the weather was comparatively warm at the time, and Bob had thrust her little head into the luxuriant thicket31 of his beard and whiskers; and, spreading his great hands and arms all over her little body, had also kept her well out of the water—all which the great buoyancy of his lifebelt enabled him easily to do.
Shall we describe the joy of the widow and the grandfather? No; there are some sacred matters in life which are best left to the imagination. The sunshine which had begun to scatter32 the clouds, and flood both land and sea, was typical of the joy which could find no better means than sobs33 wherewith to express gratitude34 to the God of mercy.
We have said that the gale had begun to abate26. When the lifeboat escaped from the turmoil35 of cross-seas that raged over the sands and got into deep water, all difficulties and dangers were past, and she was able to lay her course for Greyton harbour.
“Let’s have another swig o’ that cold tea,” said Bob Massey, resuming his rightful post at the helm. “It has done me a power o’ good. I had no notion that cold tea was so good for warmin’ the cockles o’ one’s heart.”
Ah! Bob Massey, it was not the cold tea, but the saving of that little girl that sent the life’s blood careering so warmly through your veins36! However, there’s no harm done in putting it down to the credit of the cold tea. Had the tea been hot, there might have been some truth in your fancy.
“What’s the time?” asked Bob, with a sudden look of anxiety.
“Just gone ten,” said Slag, consulting a chronometer37 that bore some resemblance to an antique warming-pan.
The look of anxiety on the coxswain’s countenance38 deepened.
“Ease off the sheet a bit,” he said, looking sternly over the weather quarter, and whistling for a fresher breeze, though most men would have thought the breeze fresh enough already.
As if to accommodate him, and confirm the crew in the whistling superstition39, the breeze did increase at the moment, and sent the lifeboat, as one of the men said, “snorin’” over the wild sea towards the harbour of Greyton.
It was a grand sight to behold40 the pier41 of the little port on that stormy morning. Of course, it had soon become known that the lifeboat was out. Although at starting it had been seen by only a few of the old salts—whose delight it was to recall the memory of grand stormy times long past, by facing the gales42 at all hours in oiled coats and sou’-westers—the greater part of the fishing village only became aware of the fact on turning out to work in the morning. We have said that the gale had moderated, and the sun had come out, so that the pier was crowded, not only with fisher-folk, but with visitors to the port, and other landsmen.
Great was the hope, and sanguine43 the expectation of the crowd, when, after long and anxious waiting, the lifeboat was at last descried44 far out at sea, making straight for the harbour.
“All right, Bill,” exclaimed an old fisherman, who had been for some time past sweeping45 the horizon with his glass, “the flag’s a-flyin’.”
“What does that mean?” asked a smart young lady, who had braved the blast and run the risk of a salt-wash from the sprays at the pier-end in her eager desire to see the boat arrive.
“It means, Miss, that they’ve managed to save somebody—how many, in course, we can’t tell till they come.”
There was a strong disposition46 on the part of the crowd to cheer when this was said.
After a few minutes’ further observation, the old man with the glass murmured, as if speaking to himself, “I do believe she’s chock-full o’ people.”
When this was repeated, the suppressed cheer broke forth47, and the excitement increased. Soon the people with good eyes could see for themselves that the swiftly approaching boat was as full as she could hold of human beings. At the same time, those who were in the boat could see the swarms48 of sympathisers on the pier who awaited their arrival.
But there was one man who took no note of these things, and seemed indifferent to everything around him. The coxswain of the lifeboat was spiritually absent from the scene.
“You seem to’ve got the fidgets, Bob,” remarked Joe Slag, looking earnestly at his friend. “That swim has been too much for ’ee.”
“’Taint that, Joe,” replied Bob, quickly. “What’s the time now, lad?”
Pulling out the antique warming-pan again, Slag said it was nigh a quarter past ten, and added that he, (Bob), seemed to be “uncommon49 consarned about the time o’ day that mornin’.”
“And so would you be, lad,” returned the coxswain, in a low voice, as he advanced his mouth to his comrade’s ear, “if you was in my fix. I’ve got to be spliced50 this day before twelve, an’ the church is more’n two miles inland!”
“That’s awk’ard,” returned Slag, with a troubled look. “But, I say, Bob, you’ve kep’ this uncommon close from us all—eh? I never heerd ye was to be spliced so soon.”
“Of course I kep’ it close, ’cos I wanted to give you an’ my mates a surprise, but it strikes me I’ll give some other people a surprise to-day, for there’s no time to put on clean toggery.”
“You’ll never manage it,” said Slag, in a sympathetic tone, as he once more consulted the warming-pan. “It’s gettin’ on for half arter ten now, an’ it takes a mortal time to rig out in them go-to-meetin’ slops.”
“Do I look anything like a bridegroom as I am?” asked the coxswain with a curious glance.
“Sca’cely,” replied Slag, surveying his friend with a grim smile—”(mind your helm, Bob, there’s a awk’ard run on the tide round the pier-head, you know.) No; you’re not wery much like one. Even if your toggery was all ship-shape—which it ain’t—it would stand dryin’, and your hair would be the better o’ brushin’—to say nothin’ o’ your beard—an’ it do seem, too, as if a bit o’ soap might improve your hands an’ face arter last night’s work. No, Bob, I couldn’t honestly say as you’re exactly ship-shape as you stand.”
“Listen, Joe Slag,” said Bob Massey, with sudden earnestness. “I’ve never yet come in after a rescue without seein’ the boat hauled up an’ made snug51. ‘Dooty first, an’ pleasure arter,’ that’s bin52 my motto, as you know. But dooty lies in another direction this day, so you promise to see her hauled up, an’ cleaned, an’ properly housed, won’t you?”
“In coorse I does.”
“Well, then,” continued Bob, in the same low, earnest tone, “arter that’s done, you’ll go an’ invite all our mates an’ friends to a jolly blow-out in the big shed alongside o’ my old mother’s house. Don’t tell who invites ’em, or anything about it, an’ ask as many as like to come—the shed’s big enough to hold ’em all. Only be sure to make ’em understand that they’ll get no drink stronger than coffee an’ tea. If they can’t enjoy themselves on that, they may go to the grog-shop, but they needn’t come to me. My mother will be there, and she’ll keep ’em in order!”
“What!” exclaimed Slag, with a look of slight surprise. “Your mother! Her what’s bin bed-ridden for years, an’ hasn’t got no legs at all—leastwise not to speak of?”
“Just so, lad. We’ll lift her in, bed an’ all. Now you be off to the bow. Oars53 out, lads; stand by the halyards!”
They were by that time close to the pier-head, where the people were shouting and cheering, some of them even weeping, and waving hats, ’kerchiefs, sticks, and umbrellas, almost wild with joy at seeing so many fellow-creatures rescued from the maw of the hungry sea.
The first man who leaped out when the lifeboat touched the pier was the coxswain, dripping, dirty, and dishevelled.
“Bless you, my gallant54 fellow!” exclaimed an irrepressible old enthusiast55, stepping forward and attempting to grasp the coxswain’s hand.
But Bob Massey, brushing past him, ran along the pier, leaped a fence, and sprang up the steep path that led to the cliffs, over the top of which he was finally seen to bound and disappear.
“Poor fellow!” exclaimed the irrepressible enthusiast, looking aghast at Slag, “exposure and excitement have driven him mad!”
“Looks like it!” replied Slag, with a quiet grin, as he stooped to assist the widow and little Lizzie to land, while ready hands were out-stretched to aid and congratulate the old grandfather, and the rest of the rescued people.
The coxswain ran—ay, he ran as he had been wont56 to run when he was a wild little fisher-boy—regardless alike of appearances and consequences. The clock of the village steeple told him that the appointed hour had almost arrived. Two miles was a long way to run in heavy woollen garments and sea-boots, all soaked in sea-water. But Bob was young, and strong, and active, and—you understand the rest, good reader!
The church had purposely been selected at that distance from the village to prevent Bob’s comrades from knowing anything about the wedding until it should be over. It was a somewhat strange fancy, but the coxswain was a man who, having taken a fancy, was not easily turned from it.
In order to her being got comfortably ready in good time, Nellie Carr had slept the night before at the house of an uncle, who was a farmer, and lived near the church. The house was in a sheltered hollow, so that the bride was scarcely aware of the gale that had been blowing so fiercely out at sea. Besides, being much taken up with cousin-bridesmaids and other matters, the thought of the lifeboat never once entered her pretty head.
At the appointed hour, arrayed in all the splendour of a fisherman’s bride, she was led to the church, but no bridegroom was there!
“He won’t be long. He’s never late,” whispered a bridesmaid to anxious Nellie.
“Something must have happened,” said the farmer-uncle, apologetically.
Watches were consulted and compared.
At that moment a heavy rapid tread was heard outside. Another moment, and Bob Massey sprang into the church, panting, flushed, dirty, wet, wild, and, withal, grandly savage58.
“Nellie!” he exclaimed, stopping short, with a joyful59 gaze of admiration60, for he had never seen her so like an angel before.
“Young man,” began the clergyman, sternly, but he got no further; for, without paying any attention to him whatever, Bob strode forward and seized Nellie’s hands.
“I dursen’t kiss ye, Nell, for I’m all wet; but I hadn’t one moment to change. Bin out all night i’ the lifeboat an’ saved over thirty souls. The Brentley boat’s done as much. I’m ashamed, sir,” he added, turning to the clergyman, “for comin’ here like this; but I couldn’t help it. I hope there’s nothin’ in Scriptur’ agin’ a man bein’ spliced in wet toggery?”
Whether the clergyman consulted his Cruden’s Concordance with a view to clear up that theological question, we have never been able to ascertain62; but it is abundantly clear that he did not allow the coxswain’s condition to interfere63 with the ceremony, for in the Greyton Journal, of next day, there appeared a paragraph to the following effect:
“The marriage of Robert Massey, the heroic coxswain of our lifeboat, (which, with all its peculiar64 attendant circumstances, and the gallant rescue that preceded it, will be found in another part of this day’s issue), was followed up in the afternoon by a feast, and what we may style a jollification, which will live long in the memory of our fisher-folk.
“Several circumstances combined to render this wedding-feast unique. To say nothing of the singular beauty of the bride, who is well known as one of the most thrifty65 and modest girls in the town, and the stalwart appearance of our coxswain, who, although so young, has already helped to save hundreds of human lives from the raging sea, the gathering66 was graced by the presence of the bridegroom’s bed-ridden mother. Old Mrs Massey had been carried in, bed and all, to the scene of festivity; and it is due to the invalid67 to state that, despite rheumatics and the singularity of her position, she seemed to enjoy herself exceedingly. Besides this, the friends and comrades of the coxswain—backed by the enthusiastic groomsman, Joe Slag—would not permit Massey to don wedding garments, but insisted on his dancing himself dry in the rough garb68 in which he had effected the rescue. This he had no difficulty in doing, having already run himself more than half dry in hastening from the lifeboat to the church, which latter he reached only just in time.
“The little girl whom Massey personally saved was also present, with her mother and grandfather; and one interesting episode of the evening was the presentation to our coxswain of a gold watch and a purse of fifty sovereigns by the grateful old grandfather. Another peculiarity69 of the proceedings70 was that Massey insisted—although the clergyman was present—on his old mother asking God’s blessing71 on the feast before it began. All who are acquainted with our liberal-minded vicar will easily understand that he highly approved of the arrangement.
“To crown all, the feast was conducted on strictly72 teetotal principles. We have frequently advocated the principles of total abstinence in these columns—at least for the young, the healthy, and the strong—and we are glad to acknowledge that this wedding has greatly helped our cause; for the fun and hilarity73 in all, the vigour74 of limb in dancing, and of lung in singing—in short, the general jollity—could not have been surpassed if the guests had been swilling75 rivers of beer and brandy, instead of oceans of tea. Yes, as one of the Irish guests remarked, ‘It was a great occasion intoirely,’ and it will be long before the event is forgotten, for the noble deeds of our Greyton lifeboat are, from this day forward, intimately and inseparably connected with her coxswain’s wedding!”
Thus spake the Greyton oracle76; but, prophet though that journal professed77 to be, the oracle failed to discern that from that time forward the names of Robert Massey and Joe Slag would very soon cease to be connected with the Greyton lifeboat.
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1
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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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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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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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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bungle
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| v.搞糟；n.拙劣的工作 | |
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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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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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eddy
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| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
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sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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rift
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| n.裂口，隙缝，切口；v.裂开，割开，渗入 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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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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abate
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| vi.(风势，疼痛等)减弱，减轻，减退 | |
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abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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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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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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chronometer
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| n.精密的计时器 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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42
gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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43
sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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44
descried
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| adj.被注意到的，被发现的，被看到的 | |
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45
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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46
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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spliced
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| adj.（针织品）加固的n.叠接v.绞接( splice的过去式和过去分词 )；捻接（两段绳子）；胶接；粘接（胶片、磁带等） | |
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51
snug
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| 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 | |
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52
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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53
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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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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enthusiast
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| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
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56
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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60
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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reprobate
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| n.无赖汉；堕落的人 | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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74
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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75
swilling
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| v.冲洗( swill的现在分词 )；猛喝；大口喝；（使）液体流动 | |
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oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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