He had left home a few days before, so full of hope and joy, and glad anticipation; they had had bad weather, and anxious watches, and sleepless nights since they sailed, and now the poor fellow is almost overwrought by work and watching, and broken down with dread anxiety. "It is not for myself so much, not for myself, as for my poor girl," he says to his mates; they, kind fellows, amid their own cares and anxieties, and memories, and fears, do what they can to cheer him up.
Now as the life-boat comes rushing in through the seething seas, and breaks out from the darkness into the light of the fire which they succeed in keeping burning on the deck of the schooner, it is Fullarton's voice that is heard in piercing tones above the roar of the gale. "Be as quick as you can! be as quick as you can! we are sinking fast."
Yes! it is very evident that the vessel must soon founder; the wild seas are rushing over her; her deck is almost level with the surface of the water; at any moment she may refuse to lift to the rise of the sea, and with one plunge sink bodily down.
The coxswain of the life-boat sees that the schooner is still drifting, and decides upon not anchoring the boat, but tries to run alongside the wreck, which is being kept head to the seas and wind by the drag of her chains. The boat runs alongside within a few feet; the grappling-irons are thrown on board, they catch in the gunwale of the wreck, the boatmen take turns with the lines round the thwarts, and begin to haul the boat slowly up to the wreck; it is hazardous work, for she is deeply laden with coals, and is half full of water; she is buried in the seas, and labouring very heavily; the men are afraid that in the rush of some cross sea the boat will be tossed bodily on to the wreck.
The boat lifts up on the crest of a towering wave; there is a tremendous strain upon the stout grappling-lines, a moment's lull in the rush of the broken water. "Haul in hard upon the lines, get her alongside, now, my men; sharp, my men!" the coxswain shouts; and then to the vessel's crew: "Be ready to jump directly we are near enough!" "Aye! Aye! all right, all right!" the crew cry, excitedly, and crouch ready to spring upon the gunwale, and over into the boat. "Be ready all! be ready all!" the coxswain again cries, as he tries to sheer the boat near enough for the men to jump on board. "Now! now! Stop! hold on, hold on all for your lives!" A tremendous breaker comes gliding on like a dark snow-crowned wall, deluges the men with the foam and spray that flies from its crest, lifts the boat in its strong grasp, the grappling-lines snap like threads, and the boat is swept on in the rush of the wave far away from the wreck; the boatmen look back, and in the glare of the signal-fire they can see the pale white faces of the despairing and terrified sailors, and as the boat is driven on through the dark wild seas, the cries of the poor fellows can be for some time heard penetrating the tumult of the storm.
Before the boat was driven away from the vessel, at the moment of the ropes parting, the coxswain, seeing that the boat would be carried away, shouted at the pitch of his voice, "Have ropes ready!" the crew heard the words; and are consoled in the depth of their disappointment; they know that they are not to be deserted, that while ship and life-boat both last, attempt after attempt will be made for their rescue. But how long will the wreck float under them? this is the terrible question, and they call out, and this is the cry that the boatmen hear indistinctly: "We are sinking fast! We are sinking fast!"
The swirl of the sea and the tide, and the force of the gale, drive the boat far away to leeward; the men hoist her sails again, heave her to, and then try to stay her, and make in again directly for the wreck; but she misses stays, as the seas come rushing over her, and they have to wear her round. They battle on, and are speedily ready for their third attempt, thankful to find that the poor labouring wreck is still afloat.
They run the boat close under the schooner's port-quarter; the sailors are all ready with the required ropes; they throw one on board the boat, and the men in the boat succeed in throwing two strong lines on board the wreck; once more the order is to haul in close alongside.
And again the boatmen see the white faces of the almost drowned and exhausted men light up with hope. Fullarton especially is full of joy in the reaction of his feelings; he almost feels saved, and is very excited. Cautiously the boatmen work, doing their utmost to prevent the boat being dashed against the wreck; now they are just alongside; two minutes more, and all are saved; no, a heavy sea comes foaming along, and as it breaks fills the boat and rushes over the ship, which staggers under its weight; the ropes which fasten the boat to the ship, jerk and wrench, but still hold; the boat lifts, clears herself of water, the men breathe again. Another tremendous wave comes rushing along, another, and then several in quick succession; the men cling with all their force to the thwarts; heavy volumes of water beat down upon their backs; the boat plunges, and is wrestled here and there in the strong tumult of the waves; the ropes seem ready to tear the masts and thwarts to which they are fastened out of the boat; at last one rope parts; another gives the moment after; the boat rises on the crest of a wave, she heels over, the third rope breaks under the tremendous strain, the boat springs forward and is torn away from the vessel, and is rapidly swept away under her stern; a loud shriek is heard, it is from poor Fullarton; the boatmen see him as he stands between them and the glare of the flame; he throws up his clasped hands in despair; the next moment he wildly rushes along the deck, for a second balances himself on the gunwale, crouches and springs with all his force towards the boat—a heavy thud; he hits the bow of the boat as she is driving away stern first; a cry from the boatmen, "Man overboard!" as he sinks a huge wave rolls over him, and bears the boat farther away; Jarman, the coxswain, seizes a life-buoy and jumps upon a thwart ready to throw it to the man when he rises; a blast of wind catches Jarman, nearly tumbles him overboard, and throws him down into the bottom of the boat, wrenching the life-buoy from his hand; the drowning sailor is again lost to sight in the trough of the sea; he is swimming and struggling hard, but the boat, although without sails, is being driven faster than he can swim; the men see his wild desperate efforts, as he plunges and springs forward with outspread arms as if to grasp at the boat; he is lifted high on the crest of a wave; it curls him over, and with a cry he falls head first, and is buried in the trough of the sea; once more they make out his figure as he springs up on the top of a wave between them and the signal-fire; once again they hear his cry of despair, and he is lost to them, and to all dear to him on earth for ever.
It is all over in a few seconds; the hardy boatmen shudder and feel sick at heart: so suddenly, so terribly, so swiftly has the strong man died; and to see their brother sailor thus perish within a few yards of them, beaten under by the boiling waves so quickly that they were utterly powerless to aid, is indeed, terrible to all. But not a moment is to be lost, any one of the mad seas which rush so continually over the wreck may founder her with its weight, or sweep the exhausted men out of her. The wreck cannot by any possibility float much longer; how can the men be saved? The life-boat is now right astern of the vessel, which is drifting slowly towards them; the seas run with such violence, swaying the wreck in one direction and the boat in another, that it is evidently useless to attempt to fasten the boat alongside the wreck, and the coxswain determines to adopt a new plan. The boat is right astern of the wreck, which is slowly drifting towards them; the coxswain of the boat will anchor the boat right in her path, and try to sheer alongside as she drifts past, and thus get the crew out of her. "Over with the anchor; veer out as little cable as she will ride to; hold on, stand ready all!"—and they anxiously watch the approach of the wreck.