"True enough, coxswain; I have been very anxious about them all night—cannot help thinking about them." And it is supposed that the boatman's fears were very terribly justified. One vessel was wrecked in the way we are about to tell; and very grave fears were felt as to the fate of several others; when the morning came, not one of the vessels that had been noticed the evening before as being anchored in such a dangerous position was to be seen, and yet it was almost certain that not any of them could have got away in safety.
Fishing-smacks that had been lying-to not far from the North Foreland saw the fleet of vessels driven from the Margate Roads, and afterwards saw several of them flying signals of distress, and apparently in a sinking condition; but from the extraordinary force of the gale, the fishermen could render no assistance, and the weather was too dark and thick for the signals for help to be seen from the light-vessels, or from the shore; moreover, a good deal of wreckage was seen floating about in the morning, and the mast-head of one vessel was discovered standing out of the water upon the Goodwin, the last seen relic of some unknown ship and crew.
Among the vessels observed during the afternoon to be at anchor in a very perilous position in the Gull Stream, and making very bad weather of it, was the Mary, a schooner of about 170 tons; she had been a Dutch galliott, had a cargo of coals on board, and was bound from Shields to Dieppe.
There was one fine young man on board, David Fullarton. Life seemed more especially dear to him, as he was engaged to be married; the arrangements for the wedding had been made; he had been busy in preparing a home; and a short voyage from Shields to Dieppe and back, would do something towards the expenses, and he would not be long away; and so there were bright memories to look back upon, bright hopes before him; but this terrible storm seems to cover all with its shadow. As soon as darkness sets in, and the gale shows signs of increasing in force, Fullarton becomes very anxious, and keenly alive to the danger the schooner is in; time after time he entreats the captain to have the masts cut away, that the vessel may ride more easily, and be less exposed to the fury of the wind. "Do! captain, pray do! for the sake of our lives let it be done! we are dragging our anchors—we are fast driving on the Sands;" and again he begs the captain to signal for assistance. "Why not! why not? you will do it too late, captain, too late!" the poor fellow cries in his restlessness and distress.
The night grows on, and its terrors multiply; the intense darkness, the wild sea, the howling winds moaning and wailing through the rigging, the hoarse roar and thunder of the breakers raging on the near Goodwin Sands.
At last, the captain feels that the schooner is in great danger, and orders the crew to set a tar-barrel on fire; they hasten to do so—Fullarton working with eager haste; but the wash of the sea over it and the heavy wind will not let it burn; they fill the barrel with tow and tar, and grease, and at last get it to flare up with a fierce flame that resists the storm; the watch on board the Gull light-ship had noticed before dark the danger of the vessel, and had been keenly on the look-out in her direction for signals of distress; on Ramsgate Pier, also, an anxious look-out had been kept for some hours, the boatmen expecting disasters in that quarter.
It is a little before four in the morning; the men on board the light-vessel see the signal of distress, and fire a gun and send up a rocket to convey to the shore the tidings that help is wanted.
The boatmen at once commence preparations with all energy, they arouse the men asleep in the watch-house on the pier, a man hurries to give the harbour-master notice, the crew of the steamer Aid get ready for sea, the harbour-master hurries down the pier and gives the men orders to start on their merciful and perilous errand.
Away they go in the teeth of the hurricane, clearing their way through the leaping foaming waves and the clouds of heavy spray.
The town and harbour lights gleam out in the darkness, but there is no looking back for them on the part of the men, and there may be none; until by God's mercy, their work is successfully finished, and then doubly will the lights shine out a glad welcome on their triumphant return home.