There they are clinging to the loose and shaking rigging; a few feet above the boil of the hungry and raging sea. They have seen effort after effort made, and effort after effort fail; they have watched the men do more than they ever dreamt it was possible for men to do; and they have watched the life-boat live, and battle with seas with which they never thought it possible a boat could for one moment contend; time after time they have thought that the boatmen were drowned, as they saw the huge curling waves break over the boat, swamp it, bury it in the weight of their falling volume of water, and for some seconds hide all from view; they have been watching the men persevere in attempt after attempt, when they thought that from sheer exhaustion it would be impossible for them to make another effort for their rescue.
With equal wonder and admiration they watched the noble efforts of the steamer, marked how nearly she was wrecked, and when she failed, gave up all as lost; deciding in their minds that in such a rush of broken sea, strength of tide and gale of wind, that it is impossible for the boat to reach them, or for them to be saved, and all but one give up all hope. When the captain says in despair, "The life-boat can never make another effort," this man answers, "I have sailed in English ships; I have often heard about life-boat work, and I know that they never leave any one to perish as long as they can see them, and they will not leave us."
"And look, here she comes again. O God help them! God help them!"
Yes, here she comes again; the steamer had hastened to tow her well into position, well to windward of the wreck. "And here she comes again."
Once more the boat heads for the wreck—this time to do, or to die; each man knows it, each man feels it. They are crossing the stern of the vessel; "Look at that breaker—look at that breaker—hold on, hold on, it will be all over with us if it catches us, we shall be thrown high into the masts of the vessel, and shaken out into the sea in a moment! Hold on all, hold on! Now it comes! No, thank God, it breaks ahead of us, and we have escaped. Now, men, be ready, be ready!" Thus shouts the coxswain. Every man is at his station, some with the ropes in hand ready to lower the sails; others by the anchor prepared to throw it overboard at the right moment; round, past the stern of the vessel the boat flies, round in the blast of the gale and the swell of the sea; down helm, round she comes; down foresail; the ship's lee gunwale is under water, the boat shoots forward straight for the wreck, and hits the lee rail with a shock that almost throws all the men from their posts, and then, still forward, she literally leaps on board the wreck. Over! over with the anchor; it falls on the vessel's deck; all the crew of the vessel are in the mizen shrouds, but they cannot get to the boat, a fearful rush of sea is chasing over the vessel, and between them and it. Again and again the boat thumps on the wreck as on a rock, with a shock that almost shakes the men from their hold.
The waves soon lift the boat off the deck, and carry her away from the vessel. "Is even this attempt to be a failure? No, thank God! the anchor holds; veer out the cable; steadily, my men, steadily; do not disturb the anchor more than you can help; we shall have them now! we shall have them, all will be well; ease her a bit, ease her, see how she plunges, a little more cable; now for the grappling-iron; quick, throw it over that line; there you have it;" and they haul on board a line which had been made fast to a cork-fender, and thrown overboard from the wreck early in the day, but which the boatmen had never before been able to reach.
They get the boat straight, haul in slowly upon both ropes; cheer to the crew: "Hurrah! mates, hurrah!" All is joy and excitement, but at the same time steady attention to orders; now the boat is abreast the mizen rigging, opposite to where the men are clinging. "Down helm, the boat sheers in; haul in upon the ropes, men, handsomely, handsomely;" the boat jumps forward, hits the ship heavily with her stern, crashes off a large piece of her fore-foot. The men are for a moment thrown down with the shock; two of the boatmen spring on to the raised bow gunwale, and seize hold of the captain of the vessel, who seems nearly dead, drag him in over the bows; two of the sailors jump on board; "Hold on all, hold on!"
A fearful sea rolls over them, the boat is washed away from the vessel; the anchor still holds; they sheer the boat in again; they make the ropes fast, and lash the boat to the shrouds of the wreck, thus verily nailing their colours to the mast. No! they will not be washed away again until they have all the crew on board.
A sailor jumps from the rigging, the boat sinks in the trough of the sea, the man falls between the boat and the wreck; a second more and the boat will be on the top of him, crushing him against the rail of the vessel, upon which the keel of the boat strikes and grinds cruelly; two boatmen seize him, leaning right over the gunwale to do so, they are almost dragged into the water; they are seized in turn by the men in the boat, and all are with difficulty got on board.
Up the boat flies and crashes against the spar lashed to the rigging. "Jump in, men, jump in all of you. Now! Now!" In they spring, and tumble, falling upon the men, and all rolling over into the bottom of the boat. All are now on board—all on board! "Hurrah! cut the lashings, there, she falls away from the wreck; cut the cable, quick with the hatchet; all gone! all gone! up foresail." The seas catch the boat and bear her away from the wreck; away she goes with a bound, flying through the broken water; the heavy wind fills the sail; they are fairly under weigh, and with the precious freight for which they had fought so long and so gallantly, safely on board. Thank God! thank God! all are saved at last—saved at last.