CHAPTER XXVIII. THE NATIONAL LIFE-BOAT INSTITUTION.
"The quality of mercy is not strain'd;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;..."
Whatever interest my readers may have felt in the narrative of gallant deeds wrought at one life-boat station on the coast, must be intensified at the thought of the noble work that is going on all round our sea-girt land—that, at almost all dangerous places where vessels are likely to be in distress, or lives in peril, there are life-boats ready to be manned, and brave fellows ever anxious promptly to launch forth 'mid the wind and sea, and battle their way to the rescue of the perishing. Yes, thank God, the gallant old Anglo-Saxon blood is still to the fore; the spirit of our ancestors has not died out, and we may well believe, from abundant evidence continually arising from very diversified fields, that it has not even in the least degenerated; for at all times can men be found ready to go forth either by sea or land, to dare all that men should dare, and to do all that men can do, when duty calls them to labours of self-sacrifice, endurance, and courage.
And to the old bravery is now added modern science and organization, and the British coasts are guarded by a volunteer navy, equipped and marshalled by the Royal National Life-boat Institution.
Two hundred and thirty-three life-boats form, at present, the great storm fleet of the Institution; the boats are stationed at the most dangerous places on the coast, and are kept always ready for service.
Those who are living inland may often notice how fast the high clouds are flying overhead, and may listen to the soughing of the rising wind among the branches of the trees; but no dread conflict is pictured by the swift onsweep of the clouds, and the murmur of the wind, fitful and angry though it at times is, scarcely seems to suggest scenes of terrible peril, and of warfare unto life or death; but watch the direction in which the clouds are flying; consider on what part of our coast it is that this fierce gale strikes; imagine the heavy sea that rolls in there, the foaming breakers, the air thick with spray, the sound of the deep-voiced waves as they thunder down upon the rocks over which they break; yes! and fancy that you can make out through the low flying mist that several vessels are in the distance trying to beat their way against the growing gale, and off the dangerous lee-shore, and then rejoice as you feel fully assured, if any of those struggling vessels are overwhelmed by the storm, that it shall not be without a gallant effort for their safety that the poor fellows who form their crews shall be left to perish, for you are convinced that there are, if a life-boat station is near, storm warriors keenly watching the scene, and that they are ready at any moment to launch the life-boat and do battle with the storm and seas for the lives of their brother-sailors. Yes! and it is one of old England's many glories that it should be so.
"It is the soul that makes us rich or poor;" the old philosopher tells us, and we feel that it is as true of a nation as of an individual. And we count a nation rich with a true glory, that can point to many good works organized and carried out for great and good ends by the loving heartedness, generosity, unselfishness, and courage of its people. And among such works is life-boat work; there are the rich in soul who have the means and the open hand, and there are the many who are rich in soul and have the courageous and strong hand; and the hand generous with its wealth, clasps the hand generous with its labour and readiness for peril, and together they work out those noble results in which we all rejoice, and which the records of the Life-boat Institution so fully declare.
And we should be less proud of our country if it were not so; indeed we are almost inclined to think it a matter of necessity that in our island home, where the history of our country is so interwoven with the triumphs of our sailors, either in contests with our enemies, in pursuit of discovery, or in the development of commerce, that our sympathies with our sailors should indeed be deep and practical, and that while we rejoice in the safety and the comfort afforded by their labours, that we shall ever be prepared to help them in the hour of their distress; and that there can be therefore little room for wonder that those who realize the enormous traffic that is carried on around our shores, the dangerous nature of our coasts, and the constant casualties that are occurring, should earnestly desire the welfare of the life-boat cause, and be ready to labour for its development.
The history of the life-boat movement, and of the foundation and gradual development of the Life-boat Institution, are given in the earlier pages of this book. The present condition of the Society tells abundantly of the success it has enjoyed, and of the sympathy it has gained, until now it is able almost to girdle our land with life-boat stations.
Every year there is published by the Board of Trade, a register of the number of wrecks that have taken place in the British Isles during the previous year; the Life-boat Institution publishes a wreck-chart compiled from these returns; each wreck is denoted by a black dot which marks on the map the place at which the wreck occurred; and a truly dismal appearance the map has. See how plentifully these black dots are sprinkled round the coast-line, here one, and there two, at other places half-a-dozen side by side, or growing in number to ten or twelve, and then increasing still more rapidly at the more exposed parts of the coast, or where dangerous sands are more directly in the highway of vessels, so that in such places there may be found twenty, thirty, or forty such marks, and at some localities even more than these, as at the Sands off Yarmouth, the Goodwin Sands, the Bristol Channel, and others, where line after line is required to find room for the number of wrecks to be thus recorded. For the past year no fewer than 1958 such marks are necessary to complete the dismal list, for such was the number of the wrecks that took place, within that time, in the seas that surround the British Isles. The months of November and December were especially fatal, heavy gales, thick weather, shifting winds, worked terrible havoc among the shipping; the coasts were strewn with wrecks; and the wreck-chart grew proportionally darker in its outline; and is it not a terrible picture that it presents, as we recognise that almost every mark speaks of a dismal scene of destruction and of peril, of ships with wild seas breaking ruthlessly over them, and of men clinging on, being, perhaps, beaten slowly to death by the constant rush of the heavy waves, until, unless rescued, the shattered wreck breaks up beneath their feet, and they are at once launched into eternity?
But let us look again at the chart, and we find red marks on the coast lines opposite to the black dots which stud the sea; and wherever the sea is more dark with the signs of wrecks, there do we find the coast line opposite to such places pencilled the more abundantly with the thin red lines which mark the life-boat stations; and thank God that the red marks on this wreck-chart do now so often confront the black! for if the black colour speaks of death, the red colour speaks of life; if the one tells of terrible danger the other tells of gallant rescue; if the one pictures sailors clinging to a few spars, expecting death at every moment; the other pictures the Storm Warriors ready at their various stations to man the life-boat, and launch forth to wrestle nobly with the cruel seas, to snatch from them their intended prey.
And moreover, if the one set of signs tells us of the dangers incurred by the tens of thousands of sailors who are helping to minister to the necessities, and comfort, and luxury of the population of England, the other tells of men and women with warm hearts and generous hands, who let their sympathies go out towards their sailor brethren, and plant our storm-ridden shores with life-boats that shall be for the rescue of those in peril; and who are glad also to encourage and reward the brave men who so often risk their own lives in their efforts to save the lives of others.
And so famously has its work gone on, that the Life-boat Society can now report that the number of lives saved, either by the life-boats of the Institution, or by especial exertions for which the Society has granted rewards, presents the grand total of more than 22,000; and we are told that for these services the Society has granted 91 gold medals, 842 silver medals, and more than £40,000 in money, so that now we may well say, that the Institution has truly become one of national importance, as it has ever been one of national necessity.
Well indeed was it that Lionel Luken nearly a century ago, "In the morning sowed the seed, and in the evening withheld not his hand;" for although it was not given him to see the results of his labours, yet he commenced a work which has grown into its present noble proportions; while in contrast to all the apathy he met with, we can now point to a wide-spread and positive affection that the people of England feel for the life-boat cause; and in evidence of the hold that the work of the Society has now obtained upon the public mind we can point to its meetings, when its friends assembled have been found to rank among all classes of society, when those who are among the chief of the Royal personages of the land have been present, and have been surrounded by some of the first representatives of our aristocracy, of our army, of our navy, and of our commerce. Among the most memorable of such meetings was one held in the Mansion House in the year 1867, when the Prince of Wales occupied the chair—and the testimony he gave in favour of the Society found an echo, I am sure, in the hearts of all present. It was to the following effect: "My Lord Mayor, my lords, ladies and gentlemen. It affords me great pleasure to occupy the chair upon so interesting an occasion as the present. Among the many benevolent and charitable institutions of this country there are, I think, few which more demand our sympathy and support, and in which we can feel more interest, than the National Life-boat Institution. An institution of this kind is an absolute necessity in a great maritime country like ours. It is wholly different in one respect to many other institutions, because, although lives are to be saved, they can in those cases, in which this society operates, only be saved at the risk of the loss of other lives. I am happy to be able to congratulate the Institution upon its high state of efficiency at the present moment, and on the fact that by its means nearly 1000 lives have been saved during the past year.
"I am happy also to be able to say, that life-boats exist not only upon our coasts, but that our example in this matter has been emulated by many foreign maritime countries, some of which have chosen to model their Institutions upon our own.... Half a century ago this Institution originated in this city. In 1852, the late Duke of Northumberland became its president. My lamented father was also the vice-president, and took the warmest interest in its prosperity. I am happy to say that the respected secretary, Mr. Lewis, occupied that position in 1850. He has held it ever since, and much of the success of the Institution is owing to his long experience; and the energetic manner in which he has directed its working has raised the Institution to its present high state of efficiency.
"Before concluding my brief remarks, I call upon you once more to offer your support to so excellent an Institution. I congratulate you that it has arrived at so excellent a state, and I feel sure that you would be the last to wish it to decay for the want of support to its funds."
Thus spake His Royal Highness, in 1867, and since then the Institution has developed more and mere, completing its organization, perfecting its system, and yearly in its noble results increasing its hold upon the affections of the country.
And now, as I write the concluding lines of my book, the reality of the work related is deeply impressed upon my mind, for this morning my two little boys came running downstairs making the house ring with their cries of "The life-boat! the life-boat!" they had seen it from their nursery window. Yes, there she was, being towed by the steamer, the rough seas lashing over her; her flag was flying in triumph. I could see through my glass that there were about a dozen saved men on board the steamer; and as I have since learned, seldom have men more narrowly escaped than did those poor fellows, and seldom have men been saved by a greater exhibition of courage and perseverance than was displayed by our life-boat men while effecting their rescue.
The Scot, a barque of 345 tons, bound from Sunderland to Algiers with a cargo of coals, after experiencing much stormy and thick weather, ran on the Kentish Knock Sand at five o'clock in the morning; the seas immediately began to break over her; the carpenter sounded the well and found two feet and a half of water in her hold, but as the waves lifted her, and plunged her down upon the Sands, she filled at once with water. The captain sent the steward into the cabin for the ship's papers; he found the water up to the cabin floor; he seized the box in which the papers were, and ran up on deck; a wave rushed over the vessel and swept him along the deck; he caught hold of a rope with one hand, but one of the sailors, overwhelmed by the same wave, threw his legs around his neck and nearly tore him from his hold; the wave passed and the two men were enabled to spring into the rigging: all hands had to take refuge there, for within five minutes of the vessel's striking she began to break up; the boats were washed away, the deck-house was torn to fragments and carried away piecemeal; the deck began to twist, and buckle, and open, and then was speedily ripped up by the force of the seas, and torn away plank after plank. The vessel broke her back and heeled over on the starboard side, and settled down upon the Sands; the men could not make any signal of distress, and if they could have done so, they were miles away from any life-boat, and at any moment the masts might give and they be plunged into the boiling sea. If the weather moderated some passing vessel might see them and be able to send a boat in to their rescue, but not while the gale lasted. The day grew on; many vessels passed the Sands, but not near enough to be able to make out the men in the rigging of the masts, which were only just above water; the weather grew worse and worse, the day was wearing away, and the night coming on; it was all very, very hopeless.
At last a brig passed nearer to them than any other vessels had come; the mate said, "If they are looking at the wreck with a good glass, they may, perhaps, see us," and he stood up and waved to them. At that moment, most providentially, the pilot on board the vessel looked at the wreck through a glass, and saw the mate waving his south-wester cap. The brig soon after spoke a smack that was making in for the land, and the smack proceeded to Broadstairs and reported a wreck on the Kentish Knock, with the crew in the rigging, and that a life-boat was wanted for their rescue, for that no ordinary boat could live through the sea that was running over the Sands. At Broadstairs they felt that their own boat could never get there in time without the assistance of a steamer, and they telegraphed to Ramsgate. It was about six o'clock in the evening, the steamer Aid, with Reading in command, and the life-boat Bradford, with Fish as coxswain, and R. Goldsmith as second coxswain, at once made their way out into the gale and tremendous sea to the rescue of the shipwrecked crew.
In the meantime the poor fellows on board the wreck waited on almost in despair, the ship each moment yielding to the force of the storm till the whole deck was washed away, and the masts were working more and more loose; happily she had wire rigging, which stood the heavy swaying and lurching of the masts better than the ordinary rope rigging would have done.
It was piteous in talking to the men to hear them describe the condition of utter despair that they were in, and how little ground they could find for any hope whatever; piteous to hear the captain say, "There were just two planks of the deck left floating entangled in a rope, and I kept watching them, thinking that if the mast went I would try and swim to them, and float on them for the chance of being picked up by some vessel;" to hear the mate answer, "But I was just watching them too, with the same idea;" and the carpenter adds, "That was just the plan I had in my mind."
And thus the ten men clung to the rigging and to each other, standing on the small crosstrees of one tottering mast, hour after hour. The day passed, still no signs of rescue; it became quite dark; it seemed impossible that they could ever see another day's dawn.
They might perish at any moment! at any moment! and all ten of them. This was the conviction of each one. They told me how endless the dark hours of that terrible night seemed; and one man said, "That the thought that seemed ever present with him, was the bitter way that his little boy sobbed and cried when he bid him good-bye, and how he would cry again when he heard that 'Dadda was gone.'" At last there was a streak of dawn, but the mast had fallen over almost to a level with the water and seemed still yielding rapidly; they might see the sunrise again, but that was all; when one of the sailors cried out, "A steamer!" "What good can that be to us?" and they watch her without interest, for there seems little chance of her coming in their direction. "Ah! she is running down the edge of the Sands, and comes nearer, and nearer!"—"Well she can't help us if she does; no boat can come across the Sands to us in this surf—No! no." Shortly, a man cries, "She has a large boat in tow;"—"What! perhaps a life-boat! it may be that some passing vessel made us out yesterday and has sent a life-boat;" Oh, what a thought of hope, of joy, of life! "Can it be so? it is—it is! thank God it is—it is! Look, she has left the steamer and is coming in through the breakers straight towards us!"
It is something to remember, the way in which one man said to me, as if almost unnerved by the remembrance, "Oh, what a beauty she looked! what a beauty she looked coming over those seas!"
The steamer and life-boat had got out to the Sands after battling with the storm for a distance of twenty-six miles. At about 11 o'clock the night before, they spoke the Lightship on the Kentish Knock, and learnt the bearings of the wreck; but they found that it was impossible to discover her in the darkness of the night and storm, so after several vain efforts they lay to until the morning. As soon as it was light they went in search of the wreck, and the life-boat made in across the Sands, and it was then truly a great matter of heartfelt congratulation to the life-boat men that all their labour and perseverance had not been in vain; for to their great joy they could see the crew in the rigging. They anchored the boat as near to the wreck as they could venture, and then let the cable veer out until the boat was under the vessel's jib-boom. It was low-tide—the seas were not breaking over the wreck so violently as they had been; and the men were able to work their way out on to the bowsprit, and drop into the boat, and thus the ten men were saved, after being twenty-six hours holding on in the maintop of the wreck.
The flood-tide was just making; all felt, that as soon as it rose and the wreck began to heave and work again, the mast would speedily go, and they realized to the full that they had only been saved just in time.
The life-boat returned to the steamer as speedily as possible, and put the rescued men on board her. The shipwrecked men had not tasted anything for nearly thirty-six hours, as it was before breakfast time that they had run ashore, and they had been in the rigging for twenty-six hours. The life-boat got back to the harbour at 11 o'clock in the morning; the life-boat men had been in the open boat exposed to all the fury of the storm for nearly seventeen hours, and their exhaustion was very great. The kindness of some friends provided the weary and famished men with a good dinner at the house of their old comrade and friend, Jarman, and soon after a telegram came from Mr. Lewis, of the Life-boat Institution, to whom tidings of the rescue had been telegraphed, that the life-boatmen were to have a sovereign each, and a good dinner; but by that time they were all resting at home after their long hours of fatigue. Other friends made recognition by subscription of their noble services; and comfort was thus carried into the homes of our Storm Warriors after their gallant and triumphant efforts in saving life.
The shipwrecked men were cared for in our Sailors' Home, and speedily recovered their fatigues. The captain told me he did not think they would have been alive one hour longer, if the life-boat had not come just when she did; and speaking of the life-boat, said with deep feeling, "Oh! she is a noble boat, and nobly manned; there could not be a kinder set of men!" And with these words of the brave and grateful sailor so recently and unexpectedly saved with all his crew, from that which seemed most certain death, I feel inclined to finish my book. But I will add one wish, namely, that we had a better Sailors' Home in which to receive the poor fellows who are brought ashore; 156 wrecked men were received into the Home at Ramsgate last year, 40 in one day; and a little house of £25, or so, rent, and its one sitting-room for the use of the men, only about sixteen feet by fourteen, and eighteen beds crowded together in small rooms is, of course, quite inadequate to afford the accommodation that we would wish to provide for the poor fellows brought in half dead with cold, with exhaustion, and with hunger, plucked by the Storm Warriors from the very jaws of death 'mid the rage of waters on the Goodwin Sands.
God speed the life-boat! God guard the Storm Warriors!
THE END.
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET
AND CHARING CROSS.