At once there was a rush for the life-boat. She was moored in the stream about thirty yards from the pier. In a few minutes they had unmoored her, and got her alongside; her crew was already more than made up; some had put off to her in small boats, others had sprung into her when she came within a few feet of the pier. She was over-manned, and the two last in had to turn out.
In the meantime, a rocket had been fired from the light-vessel. Many had been on the look-out for it, to decide beyond all doubt, which of the three light-vessels had fired the gun. It proved to have been the North Sands Head vessel that had signalled. The cork jackets were thrown into the boat, the oars and ropes overhauled, all things seen to be right, and the men in their places and ready for their start in a comparatively few minutes. The crew of the steam-tug Aid had not been less active. Immediately upon the first signal, her shrill steam-whistle resounded through the harbour, calling on board those of her crew who were on shore, and her steam, which is always up, was rapidly got to full power, and in less than half an hour from the time of the firing of the first gun she was gallantly steaming out of the harbour with the life-boat in tow. As she went out a rocket streamed up from the pier head. It was the answer to the signal of the light vessel, and told that assistance was on the way.
Off they went, ploughing their way through a heavy cross sea, which frequently swept completely over the boat.
The tide was running strongly, and the wind right ahead; it was hard work breasting both sea and wind in the face of such a gale; but they bravely persevered, and gradually made head-way.
They steered right for the Goodwin, and having approached it, as near as they dare take the steamer, they worked their way through a heavy sea along the edge of the Sands, on the look-out for the vessel in distress.
At last they make her out, and, as they approach, find two Broadstairs luggers riding at anchor outside the Sands.
The Broadstairs men had heard the signal, and the wind and tide being in their favour, they soon ran down to the neighbourhood of the wreck. On making to the vessel, the Ramsgate men find her to be a fine-looking brig, almost high and dry upon the Sands.
Her masts and rigging are all right; the moon, which has broken through the clouds, shines upon her clean new copper; and, so far, she seems to have received but little damage.
A grand thing for all hands, for owners, underwriters, crew and boatmen, the men think, if they can only get her safely off when the tide rises, and bring her into harbour; a fine vessel and perhaps valuable cargo saved, and a pretty bit of salvage, which will be well earned and nobody should grudge, for the boatmen have to live, as well as to save life.
Efforts have already been made for the vessel's relief. The Dreadnought lugger had brought with her a small twenty-five feet life-boat. The Little Dreadnought, and this boat with five hands, had succeeded in getting alongside the brig.