Storm Warriors; or, Life-Boat Work on the Goodwin Sands

by John Gilmore

The rain ceases, and the clouds of flying scud lift a little. It is still pitch dark, but free from mist and rain—clear dark, as they call it.

The men see the Margate Pier, and the town lights, which shine out steadily and clearly; and it seems to them a strange contrast as they look from their rough post of danger, action, and hardship, upon the town resting in quiet peace, unconscious of the storm.

They make for the Tongue light-ship, which is stationed about nine miles from Margate. Every five minutes the darkness of the horizon is broken by the flash of a rocket which is thrown up by the light-ship. It goes flying up against the gale, and bursting, gives a moment's gleam as its stars caught by the fierce wind, pass away, floating in a short stream of light to leeward. The steamer's crew make for the light-ship, looking anxiously the while in all directions for any signal which may guide them more directly to the vessel in distress; but they see none, and so speed on towards the light-ship.

As the steamer passes her on the lee side, as slowly and as near as possible, the coxswain is told that signals had been seen from the high part of the Shingle sand bank, supposed to be from a large vessel in distress.

The life-boat in turn sheers near the light-vessel in passing, and hears the same report.

Again they urge their way, struggling onward in the gale; but they can see no sign of a vessel, and no vestige of a wreck.

Perilous and anxious is the work as they feel their way along the very edge of the dangerous Sands; the roar of the gale is too great for any cries of distress to be heard. The hull of the vessel may be overrun with the seas, and the crew, clinging to the masts or rigging, be utterly unable to give any signals by firing guns or rockets, or by showing lights; and the night is so dark, that from the life-boat they can only see a few yards ahead. The men are most anxiously on the look-out; each time that the boat rises high upon a sea, they try their utmost to peer through the darkness by which they are surrounded. No! the breakers gleam white, and the steamer's light is tossing to and fro with every pitch and roll of the vessel; but nothing more can they make out. And the anxiety of the men, both on board the steamer and the life-boat, becomes greater and greater; they do not like to leave the neighbourhood of the Sands without thoroughly examining it, fearing that in doing so they may leave behind them, to a despair rendered more terrible, and to a death rendered more bitter by the false hopes that had been excited, some poor fellows clinging desperately to a few fragments of trembling wreck. But still they can see nothing and can hear nothing of either wreck or crew; either the vessel must have gone utterly to pieces, or the men on board the Tongue light-ship have been mistaken in the position of the signals they have seen.

As the men are listening intensely for the faintest signal or cry of distress, they fancy that they hear the booming of a distant gun, fired at intervals. Now in a lull in the storm they hear it more distinctly, and see in the far distance the flashing of a rocket-light. Watching and listening still, they soon discover that the Prince's and Girdler light-ships are at the same time repeating signals of distress. They must give up their present search, and hasten to the rescue where such urgent demands are being made for their help. Their consolation is, that at all events they can do nothing more in the utter darkness in searching for the wreck, which they have been already so long looking for in vain; and before daylight, or soon after, they can probably be back to resume their search after having, as they hope, done good work in the interval. At all events, they must be off; and off they go, leaving, as it proved, a crew of storm-beaten men in as desperate a position as it was well possible for men to be. They think it best to make for the Prince's light-ship first, and on arriving there they are told that a large ship has been seen making signals. They think that she is on the Girdler Sands, but she may be on the Shingles. Away again in the darkness they speed on their noble mission. At last they plainly discern a light on the south part of the Shingles; they make for it, but only to be again disappointed. It is the light of the steam tug Friend of all Nations, which is lying-to under the lee of the Shingles to be protected from the rush of the seas. But here they are somewhat repaid for their efforts, for they learn beyond doubt that the vessel in distress is a large ship on the Girdler Sands; and more than this, that another large ship, disabled and in great distress, had been seen driving down the Deeps, a very narrow channel between the Shingle and the Long Sand. It must have been signals from this latter vessel which had been seen by the men on board the Tongue light-ship. They are unwilling to pass on their way to the Girdler without making an effort to find the vessel which had been seen in such great distress, and which, in every probability, had gone ashore somewhere in the neighbourhood. So they make a cruise in the direction of the Deeps. They search narrowly, but in vain, and at last hurry away as the Girdler light-ship still continues to fire heavy guns. At last their long, persevering, and hazardous search is crowned with success. Upon nearing the Girdler light-ship, they see on the Sands the flare of blazing tar-barrels; they know these must be the signals made by the vessel that has run on the Sands. At once every man forgets all about his many hours of exposure to wet, cold, and exertion, and wakens up to full strength and vigour; and all begin at once to make preparations for going into the rescue.

The steamer is obliged to steer clear of the broken water, not only because of the danger of grounding, but also because of the wildness of the seas as they break upon the Sands, as their surf would be quite sufficient to sweep her decks and swamp her. She skirts the breakers and tows the life-boat well to windward. The men on board the boat watch their opportunity; and as soon as they find themselves in the right position for reaching the wreck, they cast off the tow-rope, and the wind and sea at once swing the boat's head round, and she plunges into the midst of the broken water which is rushing over the Sands.