"Hark!" said St. Aubyn, "that is a signal gun! and again! another!—those are guns of distress: can we do nothing for these poor creatures?"
"Oh! try, pray try," said Ellen: "but without exposing yourselves to danger, it is, I fear, impossible."
"There will be no danger for us in going down to the shore," said St. Aubyn. "You and I, my young friend," (speaking to Griffiths) "with the men servants, and all the assistance we can collect in the village, will hasten thither: we can at least light some fires on the beach, or make signals of some kind or other, which may be of service; you, my dear Sir," (speaking to Powis) "and Mr. Ross, will stay and sooth the fears of the ladies."
"Oh, but," said Ellen, "do not expose yourselves too much: the weather is dreadful."
"We will take care of ourselves, my love, depend upon it: there are plenty of box-coats in the hall; we will wrap ourselves up, and if we save one life our trouble will be amply repaid."
"God bless you for your goodness," said Mrs. Ross, "and prosper your undertaking! Oh! these poor sailors have perhaps mothers and sisters praying for them, as we do for poor Charles." She wept, and Joanna and Ellen could not restrain their tears.
The gentlemen, attended by all St. Aubyn's male servants, and several stout workmen belonging to the Farm, now sallied forth with lanterns, and such torches as could be hastily prepared: their numbers were considerably augmented by many of the villagers, who, independent of the rewards St. Aubyn offered, were prompted by humanity and curiosity to assist.
They soon reached the shore, on which a high tide was violently beating; and by the flashes of lightning, which, though fainter and less frequent, still at intervals broke the total darkness of the night, they soon discerned a ship of considerable size, now very near the shore; her sails rent in pieces, and scarcely a mast standing, driving towards them, and firing minute guns as signals of distress. They all saw that to prevent her being stranded on that rocky and impracticable coast was totally impossible, and therefore some of the men were dispatched to the village for ropes and other articles which might be used in saving the lives of the crew. In the meantime, those remaining on the shore collected all the rubbish they could find, and lighted two or three large fires, shouting when the wind lulled a little, to encourage the sailors, which a minute after was answered by a shout from the men on board.
In less than an hour after their arrival, the ship was driven on a ledge of rocks, almost at the foot of the cliff on which St. Aubyn and his party stood; and they saw some of the crew crowding into two small boats, and others coming on shore on pieces of timber, or whatever they could find. At intervals they rose or disappeared, as the waves were more or less powerful; but in the end, a considerable number, more dead than alive, were thrown on the land.
Several of the men, cheered by large promises from St. Aubyn, waded as far as possible into the sea, and assisted some of the crew with ropes and by other means, so that at last more than fifty men were saved.