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

by John Gilmore

As the life-boatmen made the vessel out in the darkness, they supposed her to be hard and fast on the Sands, and as they neared, and could see how the waves were beating over her, this appeared still more to be the case, but it proves not to be so; the tide is much higher than usual, and the wreck, with two long lengths of chain-cable dragging over her bows, is drifting over the top of the Sands, and with the force of the gale, and in the strength of the tide, drifts faster than the men on board the boat are able to veer out the cable.

"Hold on the cable, the wreck is drifting, we must up anchor; to it, my men, hard and fast as you can."

This getting in the life-boat cable and anchor is terrible work; the wild seas are literally raging over the boat; it was bad enough when the boat was under weigh, running before the wind, bounding along with the waves in their flight, and thus escaping much of their fury.

But now the boat is head to the seas, she meets them as they rush on with all their force, and she wrenches and jerks at the cable with a power that threatens to tear her to pieces.

As many men as can lay hold of the cable do so; they cling on to the boat with their legs round the thwarts; they give the hawser a couple of turns round the bollard—a timber head in the fore part of the boat used for towing purposes; a huge wave passes; the boat falls in the trough of the sea; as she falls the strain of the cable lessens; "Haul, and with a will, my men, haul!" they get a fathom or two of cable in; the curling crest of a broken wave falls on board, almost smothering the men, and filling the boat; she droops and staggers under the weight of water; the men in her as they cling to the thwarts are up to their necks, the air-tight compartments in the boat lift her, the valves in the floor open, she empties herself in a few seconds; a huge short wave curls on, she rises to it, buoyant as ever; it catches her under the bows, throws her high in the air, as if it would turn her end-over-end; the men cling to the hawser for a breathless moment; it checks the boat, the wave breaks over the boat in a cloud of spray and foam; the boat drops; the men shake their heads free of the water; again a loud shout from the coxswain; "Haul, haul, your hardest, my men, hand over hand!" they get in a few more feet of the strong rope, and so much nearer to their anchor; and then hold on with straining muscles for another dread struggle with the next huge sea; hardly time for a few quick breaths, and here the sea comes, like a terrible monster, with shaking mane and gnashing teeth; it foams along, gleaming out of the darkness and straightly leaps upon them; and thus amid all the wild turmoil of the raging breakers, with the boat thrown violently here and there in the might of the seas, with the waves breaking over her in such quick succession that the men can scarcely find time to breathe, does the fight go on in order to recover the anchor and cable; the men had no thought of themselves; they had but to cut the cable and run before the gale, and the fierce strife would be over; no! they must, at all costs, recover the anchor and cable, or they will not be able to save the crew, and they will fight and wrestle for it to the end. At last the cable shortens, another pull and the boat is right over the anchor, she lifts on a sea, the anchor is torn from its hold, and lifts with her: in with it, make it fast, hoist the sails, the boat's head pays round, and she is again steered for the wreck. As the boat runs before the wind and seas, the men, who are thoroughly exhausted, have a few minutes of comparative rest.

The time occupied by the life-boat men in recovering their anchor has been a dread time indeed, for the poor shipwrecked crew.

With their shattered and slowly-sinking vessel staggering and shuddering beneath their feet, the heavy seas thundering against her and breaking over her, each one threatening to be the final one which shall sweep them all to destruction; the men seemed to be each moment on the verge of death.

The storm howls around them, their only ray of hope proceeds from the life-boat light, which shines feebly through the mist, and suddenly the boat has halted short in her course towards them; why, they can scarcely understand; but one thing they are sure of, that it is no failing courage on the part of the men; it is impossible that they should be left to perish in their distress.

Their one effort now is to keep the tar-barrel in full blaze, and cruelly the wind and seas seem to do their utmost to destroy this their last hope, and leave them without the signal which alone can guide the life-boat to their rescue.

Fullarton, poor fellow, is working with an excited energy, burning in the barrel everything that he can lay hands on, that is at all likely to feed the flame.