The light gleams from a life-boat in which a small band of men are battling,—battling on in the teeth of the fierce storm. No terrors stay them, no failures quell their courage and their zeal; are not fellow-men held captive and threatened with death by fierce and cruel seas? and shall they, the Storm Warriors, not be ready at every peril, and at every hardship, and against all difficulties to make in to their rescue. In such scenes we see the men actually at their work in their efforts to save life and property; but the life-boat work does not merely consist in doing the work at the moment of its necessity, but also in the unwearying watch and readiness for when that time of emergency shall come. Many a Ramsgate boatman leaves his poor, but warm and comfortable home, his humble and loving home circle, to pace Ramsgate pier for hours, and this, night after night, for many winter months, and for the mere chance of being among the first to make a rush for the life-boat when the signal is given to man her,—a chance that may not come a dozen times in the season, and which, when it does come, may afford indeed a grand opportunity for daring all and doing all for the saving of life, but not for doing much in the way of refilling the half-empty cupboards at home, or rubbing off the debts that have been gradually growing during the winter season.
And in this, the last tale, I propose telling of the doing of the Storm Warriors, the Life Savers, who watch and struggle mid the fierce seas of the Goodwin Sands, I have deeds to relate done by our brave boatmen—acts of daring and determination—for which I claim a place amid the records of the bravest, grandest deeds of heroism of the age; a tale to tell which, unless I fail utterly in the telling—and this God forbid—I reverently pray, and pray it for the sake of noble deeds done, and for the sake of the good life-boat cause—a tale which must excite sympathy for those in suffering and in peril from the dangers of the sea; and sympathy and high esteem for the daring and unselfish workers of brave works;—a tale, the echoes of which may well stir, as a trumpet peal, stout hearts to perseverance and brave deeds, to do and dare all in God's name, and for the right, whatever storms of opposition may impede their onward course, and stand between them and their high and holy aim.
The early days of the new year were bleak and cold; strong northerly and easterly winds swept over land and sea; people on shore spoke of the weather as being seasonable, but shuddered over the word.
At Ramsgate, on the 5th of January, it was a fresh breeze from the east-south-east, and the anxious boatmen were as usual keeping a good look-out. About half-past eight in the morning, the booming of signal guns was heard; the signals came from both the Goodwin and the Gull light-ships.
The boatmen, who had been watching all night in momentary expectation of such a signal, speedily manned the life-boat.
The steamer, the Aid, was soon ready, with her brave crew full of courage and hardihood, and full of zeal as ever to second every effort made by the life-boat men in saving life. The steamer is steered for the North Sands Head light-vessel. As they were making their way across the Gull stream, they saw what proved to be a shipwrecked crew in their own boat; they took them on board the steamer, and found that they were the crew, eight in number, of the schooner Mizpah, of Brixham. The schooner had stranded on the Goodwin in a thick fog the night previously; the weather was still thick, and the men could give no account of the position of their vessel, and thought that it was hopeless to try and find her, and that it would be useless to try and get her off if they did find her, and so the steamer took the boat in tow and returned to Ramsgate.
It proved afterwards that the vessel floated off the Sands at high water. A Broadstairs hovelling-lugger, while cruising about, fell in with her, and succeeded in bringing her into Ramsgate. The vessel and cargo were worth £6000 or £7000; the Broadstairs men obtained £350 as salvage. The life-boatmen were glad to take a few hours' rest after their night's watch and morning's work, they therefore found their way homewards, leaving, however, plenty of ready and able boatmen to watch on the pier, eager to make up another crew should a call for their services be made. The cold became hour by hour more intense, and the fresh breeze steadily grew; as the tide made, the sea broke over the pier in heavy clouds of spray, thundered down upon it, and poured over it in foaming cascades into the harbour.
The evening grew on, the gale became terrific; heavy snow-storms went sweeping by, showers of freezing sleet rushed on before the wind, and the night was as dreary and dismal, as dark and cold, as night could well be.
At about half-past ten the storm was in its full fury, and the sea a very howling wilderness of raging waters.
At that moment the boom of a signal gun made itself heard, in spite of the roar of the wind and sea, and rockets were soon seen streaming up from the Gull light-ship.