Other vessels, if the sea is heavy, begin to beat heavily, and soon break up.
Lifted up on the swell of a huge wave, as it breaks and flies away in surf and foam, the vessel thumps down with all its weight upon the sands, the timbers give and strain, the seams open; she soon ceases, as she fills with water, to rise upon the wave; great gaps are torn from the bulwarks; the decks burst open with the air seeking to escape from the hold, and as the sea rushes over the vessel, each roll she gives wrenches her more and more; the masts fall over the side; her cargo floats and washes away, and speedily, even in a few hours, she is in a torn and shattered condition, completely wrecked and destroyed. The broken hull is full of water and lurches heavily to and fro with each wave, rolls and slightly lifts and works, until it has made a deep bed in the Sands in which it is soon completely buried—so that many vessels have run upon the Sands in the early night, and scarcely a vestige of them been seen in the morning.
By way of illustration, let me tell what happened one dark stormy night some few years back. The harbour steam-tug Aid and the life-boat had started from Ramsgate early in the day, to try and get to the Northern Belle, a fine American barque, which was ashore not far from Kingsgate; but the force of the gale and tide was so tremendous, that they could not make way against it, and were driven back to Ramsgate—there to wait until the tide turned, or the wind moderated.
About two in the morning, while they were making ready for another attempt to reach the Northern Belle, rockets were fired from one of the Goodwin light-vessels, showing that some vessel was in distress on the Sands. They hastened at once to afford assistance, and got to the edge of the Sands shortly after three in the morning. Up and down they cruised, but could see no signs of any vessel.
They waited until it was daylight, and then saw the upper portion of the lower mast of a steamer standing out of the water. They made towards it, but found no one was left, and no signs of any wreck floating about to which a human being could cling.
They concluded, that almost immediately upon striking, the vessel must have broken up, sunk, and been buried in the quick-sand. Poor fellows! poor fellows! a sharp, sudden death: would that the vessel had held together a little longer. Away, then, now for the Northern Belle.
They had not made much way ahead when the captain of the Aid sees a large life-buoy floating near. "Ease her," he cries, and the way of the steamer slackens. "God knows but what that life-buoy may be of use to some of us." The helmsman steers for it; a sailor makes a hasty dart at it with a boat-hook, misses it, and starts back appalled from a vision of staring eyes, and matted hair, and wildly tossed arms. They shout to the life-boat crew, and they in turn steer for the buoy; the bowman grasps at it, catches it, but cannot lift it, his cry of horror startles the whole crew, and some spring to his help; they lift the buoy and bring to the surface three dead bodies that are tied to it by ropes round their waists. Slowly and carefully, one by one, the crew lift them on board, and lay them out under the sail.
The Violet, passenger steamer, had left Ostend about eleven the previous night; at two in the morning she struck on the Goodwin Sands; a little after three there was no one left on board to answer the signals of the steam-boat that had come to their rescue, and show their position; at seven there was nothing to be seen of the steamer, crew, or passengers, but a portion of one mast, the life-buoy, and the three pale corpses sleeping their long last sleep under the life-boat sail. Such are the Goodwin Sands.
It was a storm-ridden November day, the weather was very threatening throughout; it was blowing hard, with occasional squalls from the east-north-east, and a heavy sea running. At high tide the sea broke over the east pier. As the waves beat upon it and dashed over in clouds of foam, the pier looked from the east cliff like a heavy battery of guns in full play. The boatmen had been on the look-out all day, but there had been no signs of their services being required; still, they hung about the pier until long after dark.
At last they were straggling home, leaving only those on the pier who had determined to watch during the night, when suddenly some thought that they saw a flash of light. A few seconds of doubt, and the report of the gun decided the matter.