At all events they will try very hard for it. She is a fine new and strongly-built Portuguese brig, belonging to Lisbon, and bound from Newcastle to Rio, with coals and iron. Her crew consists of the captain, the mate, ten men, and a boy.
She is head on to the Sand, but the Sand does not shelve much, and her keel is pretty even. The wind is still blowing very strongly and right astern. The tide is on the turn, and will flow quickly: there is no time to be lost; the first effort must be to prevent the brig driving further on the Sand.
With this object in view the boatmen get an anchor out astern as quickly as possible; they rig out tackles on the foreyard, and hoist the bower anchor on deck; they then slew the yard round, and get the anchor as far aft as they can; then shift the tackles to the main yard, and lift the anchor well to the stern; shackle the chain cable on, get it all clear for running out, try the pumps to see that they work; and then wait until the tide makes sufficiently to enable the steamer, which draws six feet of water, to get a little nearer.
They hope that the steamer will be able to back close enough to them, to get a rope on board fastened to the flukes of the brig's anchor, and to drag the anchor out, and drop it about one hundred fathoms astern of the vessel. All hands will then go to the windlass, keep a strain upon the cable, and each time the vessel lifts, heave with a will—the steamer, with a hundred and twenty fathoms of nine-inch cable out, towing hard all the time. By these means they expect to be able, gradually, to work the vessel off the Sands.
But they soon lose all hope of doing this; it is about one o'clock in the morning; the moon has gone down; heavy showers of rain fall; it is pitch dark and very squally; the gale is evidently freshening again; a heavy swell comes up before the wind, and as the tide flows under the brig she begins to work very much, for now the heavy waves roll in over the sand, and she lifts, and falls with shocks that make the masts tremble and the decks gape open.
The boatmen begin to fear the worst. The life-boat is alongside, with seven hands in her; she is afloat in the basin that the brig has worked in the sands, and it takes all the efforts of the men on board to prevent her getting under the side of the vessel and being crushed.
The wind increases as the tide flows, and the brig works with great violence, now, as she rolls and careens over upon her bilge, she threatens to fall upon, and destroy the life-boat The captain of the boat hails the men on the brig to come on board the boat, and get away from the side of the vessel as fast as they can. The boatmen try to explain the danger to the Portuguese, but they cannot understand. Hail, after hail, comes from the boat, for every moment increases the peril, but the Portuguese captain still refuses to leave his vessel. Any moment may be too late; the boatmen are almost ready to try and force the Portuguese over the side, but they cannot persuade them to stir; and as they will not desert them, they also wait on; wait on while the ship rolls, and works, and groans, while the seas fly over her, and at any moment she may break up. Suddenly a loud sharp crack, like a crashing of thunder, peals through the ship.
The boatmen jump on the gunwale, ready to spring for the life-boat, for she may be breaking in half; no, but one of her large timbers has snapt like a pipe-stem, and others will soon follow.
The Portuguese sailors make a rush to get what things they can on deck; altogether they fill eight sea-chests with their clothes. These are quickly lowered into the life-boat. Her captain does not like having her hampered with so much baggage, but cannot refuse the poor fellows, at least, a chance of saving their kit. The surf flies over the brig, and boils up all around her. The life-boat is deluged with spray, and her lights are washed out; the vessel still lifts and thumps and rolls with the force of the sea. Time after time the snapping and rending of her breaking timbers are heard; at each heave she wrenches and cracks and groans in all directions—she is breaking up fast. Make haste, make haste! for your lives be as quick as you can! The chests are all lowered, the boy is handed into the boat, the Portuguese sailors follow, the boatmen spring after them, and the brig is abandoned.