THE storm that culminated1 on that November morning was the worst that had been known on the Moorlow coast for years. The wind, which was north-east, blew a hurricane averaging eighty-four miles an hour. The beach was flooded by a furious surf, and, strangely enough for that time of the year, the weather was freezing cold. In less than ten minutes after the second vessel2 stranded3 Captain Murray's crew was abreast4 of her, but in the meantime she had worked to within a hundred yards of the beach, and Joe Burton, running down behind a receding5 wave, cast a line on board with a vigorous throw of the heaving-stick.
As soon as the line reached the ship, the sailors on board of her tugged7 away at it until they had pulled up the larger line, on which Captain Murray purposed to send out the breeches-buoy8. But before the buoy could be rigged up, the sailors, ignorant of his purpose, showed that they were going to endeavour to reach the land by coming hand-over-hand along the rope. Captain Murray and his men shouted from the shore, and wildly gesticulated, for it seemed impossible that any of them could reach the shore alive in that way. The surf was very violent, but the greatest danger lay in the fact that the position of the brig in the set of the strong current caused an enormous swirl9 of water between her and the beach, which retained eddying10 masses of wreckage11, mainly cord-wood from the wreck12 of the Starlings and which masses were continually swept out by the undertow, and hurled13 in by the breakers.
“Oh, those foolish men! those foolish men! why don't they understand and see their danger?” cried Sister Julia, attempting to draw the children away from a sight so distressing14; but the boys were immovable. Mrs. Murray, Sister Julia, and Nan went down to the little kitchen to wait, since they no longer had the heart to watch.
“There, one of the fellows has started!” cried Harry, with long pauses between his sentences, “and he's all right so far. No; my goodness, there he goes! a wave has flung him over the rope, and his head is caught between the cords of the whip-line. He will choke to death. No! there goes Burton again right into the surf holding on to the line. There! he's got him, he's got the sailor; but how can he ever bring him to land? See, Rex, he's clinging to a piece of driftwood with one hand, and holding on to the sailor with the other.”
“Oh! but another man is trying it now!” exclaimed Rex. “Oh! why don't they wait? Look there—and another one of the crew has plunged16 in after him; but, goodness! the driftwood has knocked him completely under. Ah! there go two more of the men in to his rescue, and Burton is in the breakers again, too. Who's that with him, Harry?”
“I can't make out, but—hurrah! they've reached the sailor; they'll save him, I know.”
And Harry was right; they did save him, and five others besides, all of whom attempted the same foolhardy method of reaching the land, and all of whom were rescued by the same hand-to-hand struggle in the surf on the part of Captain Murray's gallant17 crew.
“I never saw such bravery, never!” called Mr. Vale, and it could plainly be seen that his enthusiasm cheered the men wonderfully in their perilous18 work. He longed to plunge15 in with them, but he knew that he would be powerless to render any aid. It was their long experience that was standing19 the crew in such good stead. By this time a crowd had gathered on the beach, that is, every able-bodied resident of Moorlow was there, and as the last sailor was brought safely to shore a hearty20 cheer went up that, for the moment, even rose above the pounding of the breakers on the shore. Stretched on the sand, in such shelter from the wind and rain as the side of the surf-boat afforded, the disabled seamen21 were laid. They were all Spaniards, and only two of them were able to stand upon their feet.
“Which of you is captain of the brig?” asked Captain Murray, looking kindly22 down upon this second group of shipwrecked mariners23.
“He no here,” answered one of them who had been the least hurt, in broken English; “when he think his ship go to pieces, he go below and make hisself dead;” but the man's gestures told more plainly than his words that the captain had shot himself in the head.
Captain Murray turned to his men with a look that meant, “Our work is not over yet.”
“What shall be done with these poor fellows?” ventured Mr. Vale, when he saw that the thought of how he should reach the man still on the brig had driven all other thoughts from the captain's mind.
“Lord knows!” answered Captain Murray, sorely puzzled. “It'll be more'n a week before some of them will get out of bed, when they once get into it. There's some ugly bruises24 among 'em.”
“Do you think we could make them comfortable in the chapel25 on the beach yonder? It would serve splendidly for a hospital.”
“The very thing! I'll leave the arrangements to you, sir,” said Captain Murray, confident now that this really was Nan's new friend, the minister, about whom she had talked so much.
The first thing to be done was to get the exhausted26 Spaniards up to the Station, where Rex and Harry and Nan, with excited, earnest faces, waited to receive them. Over and over again the children had begged and entreated27 to be allowed to run down to the scene of the wreck, but Mrs. Murray had thought best to refuse them.
Captain Murray could not have left the preparation of the hospital in better hands than Mr. Vale's. Won by his handsome face and simple manner, the villagers crowded about him, eager to do his bidding. The sexton of the little church hurried home for the keys as fast as his rheumatic old limbs could carry him, and with the aid of Joe and Jim Croxson, he soon had a roaring fire blazing in the big chapel stove. Two men, harnessing up Captain Murray's Dobbin with all possible haste, drove to the Branch for doctor and surgeon, for both were needed. Two others, borrowing the largest waggon28 the town afforded, went off for a load of cots. There was something for every one to do, and every one was happy in doing it.
Meanwhile Captain Murray was hard at work in an effort to board the brig, with such of his crew as were still able to assist him. Three of his men had been helped or carried to their homes, too much exhausted and bruised29 to be of further service. When at last the little party had succeeded in reaching the brig, they had the good fortune to find the captain still alive, but unconscious from the ugly wound he had himself inflicted30. They wasted no time in lowering the poor fellow into the surf-boat, and then made for the shore, for the vessel was fast going to pieces. The rescue of the Spanish captain completed the heroic labours of Epher Murray's crew for that morning, and the brave and wearied fellows went to their homes for a well-earned rest. Half-a-dozen fishermen volunteered their services to get the tackle once again in order. Indeed, none of the Moorlow people thought of setting about their regular occupations that eventful November morning, and all seemed proud to lend a hand in whatever way they could. Fortunately in a few hours the crew of the Starling were so far refreshed and rested as to be sent by the afternoon train to New York, where most of them lived when on land. There was literally31 no place in Moorlow where they could have been accommodated, unless in the chapel, that was fast being converted into a hospital. Sister Julia was superintending the work there, and by four o'clock everything was in readiness. Mrs. Murray had devoted32 her time to caring for the crew of the brig in the Life-saving Station. As soon as damp clothing had been removed, those who had sustained the severest injuries were made comfortable on mattresses33 brought from the bunks34 in the loft35, and laid on the floor of the large room. The surgeon and doctor found considerable to do when they arrived, and the captain's wound claimed their first attention.
Sister Julia had remained to wait upon them, until all the bruises and wounds had been dressed. Meanwhile, Mrs. Murray had improved the opportunity to slip home and prepare a second breakfast, and Harry and Rex and Nan again trudged36 to and fro, laden37 with good things, only with much less difficulty now, for the storm had greatly abated38.
All through that busy day of preparation, Ned and Hereward had kept up an incessant39 racing40 in and out of the chapel. Now and then they would brush against Sister Julia's black dress, and she could never resist the temptation, no matter how busy she might be, of giving them a friendly little pat. Then the two fellows would go bounding out of doors, as though through her touch they had received some special command which they must hasten to execute.
Early in the morning, to meet the first need of the surgeon, Sister Julia had taught some of the women, who were helping41 in the chapel, how to prepare a bandage. She showed them how they must tear off the muslin in strips, twice the width needed, and then must fold them evenly lengthwise through the centre, and cut them apart with scissors, because tearing both edges was likely to stretch them. Then she instructed them in the art of “rolling firmly,” for there is not a more useless thing in the world than a poorly-rolled bandage. As she sat now by the side of one, and now by another, she would ask some simple question betraying her deep interest in them, and so more than one Moorlow woman, almost unconsciously, unburdened her heart to this new sweet friend, or told the story of her life. As Mr. Vale's work threw him into the company of many of the men, one after the other, he would enter into a friendly conversation with them, and some of the Moorlow men had their eyes opened to the fact that a minister might be something more than a mere42 preacher, standing quite apart from the common interests of their lives; that he might be an earnest, sympathetic man, a man subject to the same temptations and same trials as themselves, but able to rise above them, and even triumph in them, through the Spirit of God, which not only was in him, but which shone out in well-nigh every look and word and deed.
Oh! how welcome was the sight of the beds and the cheery fire to the eyes of those Spanish sailors, when they were tenderly carried into the chapel at sunset. Only a few hours before they had thought the bottom of the ocean would be the only bed they should ever know. No wonder their faces looked grateful and happy, notwithstanding every one of them was suffering more or less from the injuries he had received. When at last there was nothing more to be done, and with the exception of Sister Julia and her assistants the Moorlow folk were making ready to go home, the Spanish captain, who had regained43 consciousness soon after being brought ashore44, beckoned45 to Mr. Vale. The poor fellow was quite too weak to speak, but knowing him to be a minister, he glanced round the chapel, and then, slightly raising his hand, pointed46 upward. Mr. Vale readily understood that the captain did not want the little company to break up till they had united in thanking God for the preservation47 of the crew of his vessel. Stepping into the reading desk, he easily gained the attention of everyone.
“The captain of the Christina,” he said, “has indicated to me that he would like us to give God thanks for the rescue of his crew. Will as many of you as are willing remain for a few moments?”
The women and children took their seats in the pews near which they were standing, and not a man went out. Never was a sweeter or more earnest service held in the little chapel, and there were tears in many eyes at its close. Every face looked tranquil48 and happy. For one whole day those Moorlow folk had not had so much as a thought of self, and nothing brings a happier look into the face than pure unselfishness. It had been a wonderful day for them all, and who of the number would ever forget it?
Out into the glow of the sunset and homeward went the little congregation, leaving Sister Julia and three or four women whom she had chosen as assistants in charge of the hospital. Regie and Harry and Nan, reluctant to leave, lingered in the doorway49, till Sister Julia came and urged their going.
“Come, children,” she said, “hurry home. Little Nan there looks ready to drop.”
“Yes, I am tired,” Nan admitted; “it has been such a long, long day,” and without further urging the little trio trudged silently home; silently, because they had so much to think over. Two shipwrecks50 in one day! Regie remembered self-reproachfully that he had had his wish. For Nan, the excitement and fatigue51 had proved too much, and she fell asleep at the table before she had eaten a mouthful of supper, and knew nothing more till she woke late the next morning, with the sunlight streaming so brightly into her room as to make storms and shipwrecks seem the most improbable things that could ever happen.
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1
culminated
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| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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buoy
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| n.浮标；救生圈；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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eddying
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| 涡流，涡流的形成 | |
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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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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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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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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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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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seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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mariners
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| 海员，水手（mariner的复数形式） | |
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bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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waggon
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| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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mattresses
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| 褥垫，床垫( mattress的名词复数 ) | |
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bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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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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incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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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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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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45
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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47
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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48
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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49
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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50
shipwrecks
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| 海难，船只失事( shipwreck的名词复数 )； 沉船 | |
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51
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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