At length the anchor was weighed, the sail hoisted, and the lifeboat headed for the tug. A faint cheer was raised by the remaining passengers, who watched her anxiously as she made her way, half buried in spray, through the sea. As is often the case with those rescued from shipwreck, the emigrants thought they were safer on the wreck than in the lifeboat, and as the huge seas swept over them, they feared that they had only been saved from death in one form to meet it in another.
Soon, however, their hearts were gladdened by the sight of the tug's lights shining over the water, and in a few minutes the boat was alongside. Hastily, yet tenderly, the women were dragged on board the tug. Every moment was precious for the sake of those left behind. One woman wanted to get back to the boat to look for her child, but her voice was drowned in the roar of the storm, and she was taken below. Then, again, the bundle is tossed through the air and caught, and just as it was about to be thrown into a corner, some one shouted, "That's a baby!" It was carried down into the cabin and given to the mother. She received her child with a great outburst of joy, and then fell fainting on the floor.
The lifeboat, having discharged her load, set forth again for the wreck. All the former dangers had to be faced and all the former difficulties overcome before the work of rescue could be resumed, but the gallant fellows persevered and were successful. The boat was rapidly filled, and again made for the steamer, to which the rescued people were transferred without mishap. The third and last journey was attended with equal good fortune. All were saved--families were reunited, and friends clasped the hands of friends. Then the lifeboat went back to remain by the wreck, for the captain thought that the ship might be got off with the next high tide.
The tug with her burden of rescued people started for Ramsgate just as day was dawning. As she steamed slowly along, the look-out man noticed a portion of a wreck to which several men were clinging. At once the tug put about to bring the lifeboat to the scene. In a short time she returned with the lifeboat in tow. Having been put in a proper position for the wreck the tow rope was cast off, and the boat advanced to the battle alone. From the position of the wreck the lifeboatmen saw that the only way of rescuing the crew was by running straight into her. This was a course attended with considerable danger, but it was the only one, so the risk had to be taken. Straight in among the floating wreckage dashed the lifeboat, a rope was made fast to the fore-rigging, and the crew, sixteen in number, dropped one by one from the mast into the boat. Then the sail was hoisted, and the lifeboat made for the steamer, the deck of which was crowded with the lately-rescued emigrants, who cheered till they were hoarse, and welcomed the rescued men with outstretched arms.
The poor fellows had a touching story to tell. For hours they had clung to the mast, hearing the timbers cracking and smashing as the heavy sea beat against the wreck, and fearing that they would be swept away every minute. They had seen the steamer's lights as she passed them on her errand of mercy the night before, and had shouted to attract the notice of those on board, but the roar of the wind drowned their voices. When they saw the steamer in the morning they were filled with new hope, and made signals to attract her attention, but to their horror she turned and went back. At first they thought that they were to be abandoned to their fate, and then it dawned upon them that she had gone for the lifeboat. This was, as we know, the case. Their vessel was named the Demerara.
There was a scene of great enthusiasm on Ramsgate pier, when the tug, with the lifeboat in tow, entered the harbour with flags flying to tell the glad news that all were saved; and as the one hundred and twenty rescued men, women, and children were landed, cheer after cheer rent the air. It is interesting to know that the Fusilier was afterwards got off the sands.
CHAPTER VII.
THE "BRADFORD" TO THE RESCUE.
f the many heartrending scenes which have taken place on our coasts, there is perhaps none more calculated to move our sympathies for the imperilled crews, and our admiration for the devotion and unconquerable courage of our noble lifeboatmen, than the wreck of the Indian Chief, which took place on the 5th of January 1881. The vessel stranded at three o'clock in the morning, and the crew almost immediately took to the rigging, where they remained for thirty hours exposed to the raging elements, and in momentary expectation of death. During the night one of the masts fell overboard, and sixteen unfortunate men, who had lashed themselves to it, were drowned in sight of their comrades, who were powerless to afford them any aid.