Storm Warriors; or, Life-Boat Work on the Goodwin Sands

by John Gilmore

And panting, sob involuntary sighs;

And sleep awhile his torpid touch delays,

And all is joy, and piety, and praise."

Crabbe.

The second mate and cabin-boy still remain on board the wreck; they have watched with the greatest horror and dread the terrible death of the chief mate, and are themselves almost in absolute despair.

The seas continue to wash over the ship with great violence; the deck-house, under the protection of which the sailors have been crouching, begins to break up, and wrench, and tear, and is carried away piecemeal; the second mate, as the wreck wrestles and writhes beneath him, under the rush of a huge wave, fears that it is going to break up altogether, that the ship's last moment is come, and he throws himself upon the rope by which the life-boat is made fast to the ship, and begins to make his way along it; it is almost level with the water, for the wreck has so worked herself down in the Sands that her gunwale is but four or five feet above the sea; the breakers rush over the poor fellow as he painfully struggles on; he is again and again buried by the waves, but he clings on; and half working his way, half carried by the seas and tide, he reaches the high bow of the life-boat, which is leaping, and falling, and jerking, tearing the hawser to which the sailor is clinging, up and down through the seas, as if trying its utmost violence to jerk him from his hold.

But still he holds on, his hands convulsively clutching the rope as his body is being swayed and thrown violently about; he is exhausted, and breathless—he is half drowned; his face is pale as death, his jaw drops, he seems about to swoon; in another moment he will be gone; he gives a wild despairing look at the life-boat, and as the waves dash him against it, makes an effort to grasp it; the man in the bow of the boat has been watching his every movement, has shuddered with dismay as he saw the seas wash over him, expecting him to be carried away in the strong tide. No! he still grasps the rope, and at last is within reach; in one spring, and with a cry to his mates, "Hold me! hold me!" the boatman throws himself upon the raised foredeck of the life-boat, and with his body half stretched over the stem, he grasps the collar of the sailor; the drowning man throws his arm around the boatman's neck, and clings to him convulsively, by his weight dragging the man's head down and burying it in the water; but the brave fellow clings as hard to the half-dead sailor as the sailor does to him; the seas wash bodily over them and over the bow of the boat; up and down the boat plunges them both, but he still holds on; three or four of the boatmen have hold of his legs, and are doing their utmost to pull him back into the boat, but they cannot do so, and so the struggle goes on; it is only as the boat rises on a wave and throws her bow up in the air that the men can breathe.

Now a shout of horror, and a cry—"Look-out! look out! sheer the boat, quick! quick! port—port your helm!" For right down upon the bow of the boat, tossing on the huge seas, and borne swiftly by the tide comes the wreck of one of the ship's largest and heaviest boats; it has been entangled in the mast, which is hanging over the side of the ship, but it has now washed free, and comes driving down as if to stave in the bow of the boat, and crush to death the two poor fellows hanging on to the side:—the boat sheers a little; a cross wave catches the wreckage, and it just sweeps clear. Thank God! is the cry of every man in the boat.

The boatmen cannot get the two men in over the high bow of the boat, and the poor fellows are drowning fast; and so they drag the life-boatman by his legs along the side of the boat, he still clinging to the sailor, and get him to the waist of the boat where the gunwale is very low; some of the men can now catch hold of the sailor, they drag him on board, and the boatman is pulled in by his legs. The brave fellow is very exhausted by his great and gallant exertions; but he has saved the man's life, and that is every consolation to him; the mate of the vessel is almost unconscious. If the boatman had not clung to him as the seas broke over them both, he must have let go his hold and soon have been beaten under by the waves, for he was quite incapable of any further exertion.

The boatmen again turn their attention to the wreck; they have been so much engaged with the two men struggling in the water, that they have not been able to think of the poor boy still clinging to the vessel in loneliness and fear.