“As the wave which bore the lugger in upon the beach recedes, a man springs overboard from the bow with a rope in his hand; many catch hold of the rope, and haul their hardest to keep the boat straight, head on to the beach; there is a stem strap—a chain running through a hole in the front part of the keel; a boatman watches his opportunity, and, as a wave sweeps back, rushes down and passes a rope through the loop of the strap; the other end of this rope is fastened to a powerful capstan, which is placed high up on the beach. ‘Man the capstan! Heave with a will!’ and the strong men strain at the capstan bars until the capstan creaks again. There is no starting the lugger: she is so full of water from the surf breaking on the beach that she is too heavy for the men at one capstan to move her; ropes are led down from two other capstans, and rove through a snatch-block fastened to a boat on the beach; all put out their strength, round they tramp, with a ‘Ho! heave ho!’ and slowly the lugger travels up the beach, and is safe from the roll of the breakers. The men get the water out of her, haul her higher up on to a swivel platform, turn her round head to the sea, and the leading hands hurry away to inquire about an anchor and cable. The agent supplies them with such as seem suitable for the size of the vessel, and which will perhaps weigh together about seven tons.” Then follows the labour of getting them on board, but in a short time all are ready for sea.
“The gale has rapidly increased in force, and a frightful surf is running on the beach; the roar of the breakers on the shingle, the howling of the storm, the gleam of white foam shining out of the mist and gloom, all picture the wildness of the storm; but the undaunted boatmen do not hesitate. All is ready; the signal given; the boat rushes down the steep ways, and is launched into the sea. A breaking wave rolls in swiftly, it meets the bow of the lugger in its rush, fills her; for a moment the big boat runs under water, and then is lifted and twisted like a toy in the grasp of the sea, and is thrown, in the heave of the wave, broadside on to the beach; a cry of horror from all on shore, and a rush down to aid the crew, who are all—there are fifteen of them—struggling in the surf: now the men are washed up by the wave, and feel the ground and stagger forward; now they are caught again by a breaker and rolled over; it is for each of them a terrible battle with the fierce seas; here one gets on his feet and stumbles forward, he is caught by the men on shore and dragged up the beach; there a man is lying struggling on the shingle, trying in vain to rise, exhausted and confused, two men seize his collar, and pull him forward a yard or two, then get him to his feet, and he escapes the next wave, which would have washed him out to sea again. Now all the men seem to be saved; names are shouted—do all answer? No; there is one missing! All rush to the water’s edge and gaze into the darkness, eagerly watching each shadow mid the surf. ‘There he is! No! [pg 247]Yes it is! there—lifting on the surf! there, rolling-over!’ ‘Quick! quick! form a line!’ And the brave boatmen grasp each other’s hands with iron strength, and form a chain, the lowest of the four or five men at the sea end of the chain being in the water. The waves battle with them, but sturdily they persevere. At last the body is within reach of the seaward man; he grasps it; the men are dragged up the beach, and the poor insensible man is carried ashore. Alive or dead? They cannot say; and with a great fear in their hearts they carry him hurriedly up the beach, and soon, to the great joy of all, he gives signs of life, and gradually recovers.
“In the meanwhile, the poor boatmen on the beach have nothing that they can do but watch their fine boat, which was worth five hundred pounds, being torn and hammered to pieces in the surf. Plank after plank is wrenched from her. Now, with a loud crash, she is broken in half; the two halves part; the anchor and cable fall through her. They can see part of the forepeak, with one side torn away, floating in the breakers; soon that also is rent to pieces, and nothing but fragments of the boat float in the surf or are strewn about the beach; and the boatmen, heavy-hearted, but thankful that they have escaped with their lives, go slowly to their homes to rest for a few hours and recruit their strength, and then be ready to form part of the crew of any other boat, and at the first summons to rush out again to the encounter with the stormiest seas.” And that what the men of Deal are par excellence—hardy, brave, and skilful—the men of our coasts are very generally.
LOSS OF THE “ALBION” LUGGER.
Sometimes the hovellers are distinctly associated with the life-boat men in their efforts to save life. Gilmore cites a case where a lugger’s boat had succeeded in taking a number of men off a wreck, when they themselves were caught in a squall, and were only too glad to make for the life-boat, to which the larger part were transferred. Then came a chapter of difficulties, for neither steamer nor lugger could be discovered through the fog, which obscured everything within a few yards of them. When they at length reached the Champion lugger, the shipwrecked crew refused to leave the life-boat. They had been as nearly as possible wrecked a second time in the lugger’s boat. What a story had these poor men to relate!
Their vessel, the Effort, had been beaten about for days in the North Sea previous to grounding on the fatal Goodwins. They hoisted lamps, and were preparing to set a tar-barrel on fire, when their ship, which was very light, rolled from side to side, almost yard-arms under, and then suddenly capsized altogether. “At once,” said one of the narrators, “and with difficulty, we made for the weather rigging, and were glad to find that not any of the crew were lost as she fell over. We lashed ourselves to the rigging. We knew, to our great joy, that the tide was falling; had it been rising, we must have very soon been overrun by it, the vessel broken up, and every man of us lost. We were in danger enough as it was, for the brig, soon after she capsized, was caught by the tide, and worked round, with her deck towards the seas; and as the heavy seas broke over and came rushing up the deck, they fell on us with terrible weight, and beat us and crushed us against the ship’s rail, so that we were forced to unlash ourselves from the rigging; and what to do we did not know, till one of us said, ‘Our only chance is to lash the end of the ropes round our waists, and let go the rigging as the waves [pg 249]come.’ And so we did; and terrible work it was. As the waves came we slackened the ropes and went away a little with them; and as they passed, half smothered as we were, hauled ourselves back to the rigging and held on a bit; and then, when the next wave came, we let go, and were all adrift in the wash again; our hands were almost torn to pieces with the strain on the ropes and grasping at the side of the vessel.... You see, too, how our clothes were nearly dragged off us: it was indeed an awful time!” One man grew terribly excited as they told the dismal story. His limbs and features worked, and as the waves dashed over the life-boat he fancied himself being washed off the wreck, and his reason quite gave way for the time. He shouted out, “Let me drown myself! Let me drown myself! I can stand it no longer!” and was with the greatest difficulty held back by three men, who would not relinquish their hold till they got safe into harbour.
The hoveller’s life is necessarily full of danger, for his services are usually only required in the very worst weather; and if he can save anything from a wreck, it will generally be done under circumstances of great difficulty. Gilmore cites an example where some of these men were endeavouring to save the rigging of a wrecked vessel, when a squall came on, with driving snow and hail. The men in the rigging were somewhat interested in their work, and were at first inclined to risk the weather, but the gale increased so rapidly that it became evident that they must leave in their boat at once. Away for their lives the men pull, the little boat seethes through the troubled waters, and they soon near the edge of the sand, and are making for deep water, when they suddenly hear the noise of the surf beating on the shallows immediately ahead of them. They pull ahead a little, and can see the huge waves rolling in out of the deep water, mounting up, curling over, and breaking, meeting other breakers, foaming up against them—in fact, a sea of raging waters surrounding the sands in which their little boat would be swamped at once. As they mount on a wave they can see the lugger riding safely just outside the surf, only a quarter of a mile off, but that quarter of a mile it is impossible for them to pass, and equally impossible for the lugger to get any nearer to them. The seas break over them constantly, and for a while they return to the dangerous shelter of the wreck.
MAP SHOWING COAST OF RAMSGATE AND THE GOODWIN SANDS.