“The life-boat!” he returned with contempt. “You don’t mean to say they’ve got her out! She’ll only add to the mischief. We’ll have to save her too.”
She was still some way from the vessel, and in comparatively smooth water. But between her and the hull the sea raved in madness; the billows rode over each other, in pursuit, as it seemed, of some invisible prey. Another hiss, as of concentrated hatred, and the second rocket was shooting its parabola through the dusky air. Roxton raised his telescope to his eye the same moment.
“Over her starn!” he cried. “There’s a fellow getting down from the cat-head to run aft.—Stop, stop!” he shouted involuntarily. “There’s an awful wave on your quarter.”
His voice was swallowed in the roaring of the storm. I fancied I could distinguish a dark something shoot from the bows towards the stern. But the huge wave fell upon the wreck. The same moment Roxton exclaimed—so coolly as to amaze me, forgetting how men must come to regard familiar things without discomposure—
“He’s gone! I said so. The next’ll have better luck, I hope.”
That man came ashore alive, though.
All were forward of the foremast. The bowsprit, when I looked through Roxton’s telescope, was shapeless as with a swarm of bees. Now and then a single shriek rose upon the wild air. But now my attention was fixed on the life-boat. She had got into the wildest of the broken water; at one moment she was down in a huge cleft, the next balanced like a beam on the knife-edge of a wave, tossed about hither and thither, as if the waves delighted in mocking the rudder; but hitherto she had shipped no water. I am here drawing upon the information I have since received; but I did see how a huge wave, following close upon the back of that on which she floated, rushed, towered up over her, toppled, and fell upon the life-boat with tons of water: the moon was shining brightly enough to show this with tolerable distinctness. The boat vanished. The next moment, there she was, floating helplessly about, like a living thing stunned by the blow of the falling wave. The struggle was over. As far as I could see, every man was in his place; but the boat drifted away before the storm shore-wards, and the men let her drift. Were they all killed as they sat? I thought of my Wynnie, and turned to Roxton.
“That wave has done for them,” he said. “I told you it was no use. There they go.”
“But what is the matter?” I asked. “The men are sitting every man in his place.”
“I think so,” he answered. “Two were swept overboard, but they caught the ropes and got in again. But don’t you see they have no oars?”