CHAPTER XXVII. OF SOME OF THE LIFE-BOAT MEN.
"The rank is but the guinea-stamp;
The man's the gold for a' that."
Burns.
It may be that some of my readers who have followed the adventures of our Storm Warriors through their varied struggles and heroic deeds, and have felt sympathy more or less deep for the gallant life-savers, would like to know a little of one or two of the leading men among those who, during the last twenty years, or more, have done such good work in the Ramsgate life-boat on the Goodwin Sands.
Gallant men who, time after time, have plunged their boat into the thickest of the fray, and heedless of hardship, heedless of peril, forgetful of self, intent only upon rescuing the distressed, have laboured on through the dark stormy nights, 'mid the rush of the waves, the howling winds, the fierce hurricane blasts, the spray, and sleet, and snow—encountering all dangers, and persevering through all difficulties, and repaid for all as they have brought home in the morning's light the brother sailors, or the passengers, whom they have been instrumental in saving from swift and terrible deaths.
Quiet, broad-chested, steadfast-eyed men, who, by all the scenes they have witnessed, and by all the hardships they have suffered, and by all the thoughts of the shipwrecked ones that they have brought safely home, have it deeply written in upon their hearts: that (to use their own simple and noble expression) they have a call to save life.
Well indeed would it be for the world if more of those to whom talents are given, and to whom stewardships are intrusted, and who stand watching the many who are in danger, overrun by the dark troubled waters of social life—wrecked in poverty, in misery, in ignorance—wrecked for want of true teaching, true guidance, true sympathy, true love—well would it be if more of these stewards of God's loans might have the same noble conviction written in upon their hearts: that they have a call to save life! Then would more lives grow noble by noble work, and become happy in the consciousness of the happy results, which God grants to the efforts of all those who humbly seek to live and labour for the good of others; grants to those who would sooner put to sea 'mid toil and peril, 'mid self-sacrifice and opposition, rather than let the life-boats God has given for their use rot and canker upon the banks, while the cries of the despairing and the lost plead in vain from the dark storms and troubled waters at their feet.
Yes, surely; the humble boatmen of our coasts, our "Storm Warriors," afford a lesson by which many may well profit, in the noble self-sacrificing way in which they realize their mission—that they have a call to save life.
"Who shall be the first coxswain of our new Northumberland Prize Life-boat?" was the question asked by the Ramsgate Harbour Trustees some two and twenty years ago; and it was an important and anxious question; for the good boat required skilful handling to do efficient service, and if she failed in what was required and expected of her, the life-boat cause would receive a serious check.
"No man better than James Hogben for the first coxswain; no man among them all holds a higher character for cool courage, and skill, and experience;" such was the answer. Hogben had been to sea since he was a lad; for some years he was sailing in a small vessel that traded between London and Ostend; then he sailed a little bit of a boat, of about fifteen tons, between Ramsgate and Dunkirk and Boulogne, winter and summer. Ask him about it now, and the dangers he used to run; and he shakes his head, and with a quiet smile tells you that, "He met with a good many very whole breezes, very!" in that little craft of his.
After that, he had nearly twenty years of hovelling; cruising about the Goodwin Sands in open luggers in the stormiest winter weather, till he almost knew the Sands by heart; and so James Hogben was appointed first coxswain of the Ramsgate life-boat.
Each time that he and his crew went out in her they gained fresh confidence in her powers; and noble work the good boat did under his command; indeed from the time the Northumberland life-boat began her career at Ramsgate to the time she was broken up, from December 1851 to July 1865, no fewer than two hundred and sixty-one lives were saved by her and the gallant Storm Warriors who sailed her, from vessels that were utterly lost; and nineteen vessels, with their crews, were extricated from the Goodwin Sands and brought safely into harbour.
For nine years Hogben was coxswain of the life-boat, and then came that dread New Year's Eve, when doubts were thrown upon the telegram that came from Deal; and there was delay; and the life-boat got out to the south of the Goodwin Sands only in time for her crew to see the Gottenburg overwhelmed by the waves, and to hear the last cries of the drowning men.
Hogben had been out in the life-boat once before that day, and was exhausted and unwell; and he had a nasty fall in the boat, and hurt his knee badly, and soon fell seriously ill; his nerves were, for a time, utterly shattered, and he who had been remarkable for his dauntless courage became too nervous to walk even down the pier for fear of falling over.
And although, after a while, he so far recovered as to be able to be employed as a boatman in the harbour, and as a watchman on the pier, yet he was never able to go to sea again; his iron constitution broken down by some thirty years of Storm Warrior life, during the last nine years of which he had been coxswain of the famous Ramsgate life-boat.
Isaac Jarman was appointed coxswain in Hogben's room.
Who among Ramsgate boatmen has been better known in his time than Isaac Jarman—or Mr. Jarman, as I suppose I ought to call him now? for is he not master of a thriving public-house, which he will take good care to keep respectable? and it will not be his fault if any of his customers wreck themselves by taking too much drink.
But a yarn on Ramsgate pier with the life-boat coxswain, Jarman, was for some years quite an institution with many a visitor to Ramsgate, as well as with many an inhabitant.
When I have known Jarman (it does not seem quite natural Mistering my old boatman friend) to be out in the life-boat, enduring all the rage of the storm, and I have imagined the wild scenes 'mid the strife of waters through which he has been passing, another picture, one in very vivid contrast, has often presented itself to my mind.
I have remembered the scene I saw one evening when I called upon him, and found him with his family at tea.
"Come in, sir, come in; you won't disturb us: glad to see you."
His wife and, I think, five little daughters were there, and the baby boy, the only son, was taken out of the cradle to be shown to me.
And as Jarman dandled the little fellow in his strong arms he said, "Bless the boy! Bless the boy! he will make a life-boat coxswain some day, that he will;" and I felt that all the thoughts of the danger of the work was lost in the joy of saving life; I glanced at the mother, half expecting some expression of dissent; no, her smile showed that she was proud of her husband, and that all her sympathies were with him in his noble work, and that she was quite content that her only boy should in his day follow in his father's steps and be, like him, one of the gallant band of life-savers who guard our coasts.
And I have often felt, that however much such pictures of happy home-circles dwelt in the heart of Jarman, and of his comrades, as they have struggled out through the dark storms, and rushed into conflict with the wild seas, yet that they have never caused them to turn back from any danger, or to lessen one single effort in their warfare to save life.
Isaac Jarman was turned out into the North Sea almost from his cradle.
His father, a boatman, got severely hurt on board a hovelling-lugger, so much so, that he was never fit for work again; as a matter of course, the family became very poor.
Many hungry children to feed, and the arms once so strong now powerless to labour for them, no wonder that the cupboard was often empty, and the growing lads forced to do something for themselves as soon as they were able.
And so Isaac Jarman, when a boy of twelve years old, was sent away to sea on board a small fishing-smack called the Pledge; she was only twenty-five tons, but used to sail long distances away to fish in the North Sea, in all weathers, summer and winter.
The poor lad had all the clothing his parents could supply him with, but that was little more than he stood up in; no waterproof overalls, no sea-boots, the almost child had to rough it hardly enough; in bad weather wet through day and night, with no bed to lie upon, and no change of dry clothes; he used to throw himself down on the floor of the small cabin, and lie coiled up before the little fire that glimmered in the stove; the spray oftentimes washing down the hatchway and surging up against his back, so that he had to be content with being dry one side at a time; but strangely enough it agreed with him; as that rough life, with all its strong sea-breezes, and its abundance of good fish diet, does agree with many a little urchin, who, for sturdiness, is not to be surpassed by any luxury-lapped little fellow in the land.
After Jarman had finished his apprenticeship in the fishing-smack, he was for some years in a collier, during which time he was twice wrecked. And after that for seven or eight years he worked as a Ramsgate boatman, always on the look-out in rough weather, day and night, with but short intervals for sleep, for a signal of distress from the Goodwin Sands, and a call for the life-boat; and so all his training well fitted him for the post of life-boat coxswain; and when the vacancy was made by Hogben's illness, Jarman was well chosen to fill the post. For ten years he continued coxswain of the life-boat, going out in her no fewer than one hundred and thirty-two times, and helping to save between three and four hundred lives.
You may see many a medal that has been well won—and that is worthily worn—by veteran soldier or sailor, but you will find few that have been better won, or that are more worthily worn, than are the four medals and a clasp that our Storm Warrior Jarman has to show as records of his brave and self-sacrificing services; or the three medals that Hogben can display on high days and holidays; or those given to Reading, the brave master of the steam-tug Aid, and those worn by many another gallant boatman or sailor, who, at Ramsgate, or at other stations round the coast, have done true warrior service in saving life from shipwreck.
After holding his post of coxswain for ten years, Jarman found the exposure too much for him: he was out nine times in one fortnight, five times in one week; he was seized with a very severe attack of bronchitis, from which he never thoroughly recovered, and had shortly to give up going to sea, and resign his position of coxswain.
He had three brothers and a nephew brought up as sailors, all of whom have been drowned; well do I remember the night when his last brother was drowned.
It had been blowing a heavy gale for three days and nights, with continual snowstorms; the vessels at sea were in terrible peril: they had no help for it but to drive blindly before the gale, unable to see any of the lights or buoys which mark the sands and shoals. I had heard that a Ramsgate collier was known to have sailed from the North some days since, and could not be far off; and it was with a sad heart and deep anxiety that I lingered on the pier that afternoon watching the storm. I saw the boatmen all ready on the look-out for any signal, but I felt, as they felt, that there could be but little hope of any vessels being able to run the gauntlet of the many sandbanks in that dark storm, or of being able to make any signals heard, or seen, if they got into danger.
It was with a deep feeling of dread and apprehension that I left Jarman and his fellow-boatmen to their dreary and almost hopeless watch; and they watched on through the long dark hours of the night, ready at any moment to man the life-boat; but they could discover no signal—the roar of the storm was too great, the fall of snow too continuous. And yet during those sad hours while the boatmen crouched, sheltering themselves as well as they could—watching, and listening, and waiting, but in vain—the terrible tragedy was worked out; at daylight they saw a wreck in Pegwell Bay. Man the life-boat! No, too late, she is bottom up, her masts are gone; she must have been wrecked on the Brake Sand, and been rolled over and over by the tremendous sweep of the sea, and the tide. Yes, it is the Ramsgate collier that was expected, and that Jarman's brother commanded; and he and all his crew have miserably perished—perished within sight of home, and within half a mile or so of the life-boat men who were so eagerly watching and waiting for a call to their rescue, and to whom they could not make their danger known.
And to this day you may see the sad record of the disaster in the remains of the hull of the wreck, washed high up on the shore in Pegwell Bay, and there half buried in the sand.
A great grief to Jarman this sad loss of his brother; and the poor man left a widow and a large family of children; and when fine weather came, in the early summer, many a friend who had had pleasant chats with the life-boat coxswain on Ramsgate pier, was surprised to find him diligently cruising in and out of offices in London; he was canvassing for votes for the Merchant Seamen's Orphan Asylum, and he laboured on until he succeeded in getting two of his late brother's children into that famous institution.
Charles Fish was appointed to succeed Jarman as coxswain, and the life-boat under his guidance continues to do good service; many times has he been out in her, and many times has he, through much hardship and danger, brought saved lives home. And may God in His mercy continue to shield and bless him and the brave men who sail with him, and aid them in their gallant efforts to pluck the shipwrecked and the drowning from all the mighty strife of waters, that battles with such deadly fury when the storms rage round the fatal Goodwin Sands.
I cannot refrain from bearing my tribute of admiration to worthy Daniel Reading, a brave, skilful, modest sailor, the master of the steam-tug Aid; many and many a time has he rendered service, which for daring and skill could not be well surpassed, threading in and out of the Goodwin Sands 'mid terrible storms while seeking for the position of wrecked vessels, or making short cuts to tow the life-boat into position, that no time should be lost in her efforts to save the drowning crews.
Yes! Reading, and James Simpson, the mate of the Aid, and William Wharrier, the engineer, who have been together more than twenty years, and have been out on almost every occasion that the life-boat has been called for, have all three of them done noble and gallant service time after time, and are indeed well worthy to be ranked among the Storm Warriors who have nobly fought in the great and good cause of saving life.
And many another gallant fellow might I mention, whose name stands worthily on the Ramsgate life-boat roll-call; famous specimens of what a British sailor should be—full of daring and determination, and skill, and hardihood; men who are ready to encounter all danger, and to endure any amount of hardship, in answer to the holy call: to go forth and seek to save the shipwrecked and the perishing.