A mizzling rain comes on, the wind is round to the westward and freshening; some of the vessels which have been among the last to pass Deal bound to the southward, give up the hope of getting down Channel in the face of the freshening breeze, and return to find anchorage in the Downs.
It is a likely night for work, and the boatmen get ready for a cruise; everything is prepared to launch one of the large luggers; she is now drawn up high upon the beach; her crew of fifteen men hasten to get ready for sea. It is a dark and squally winter's morning, about one o'clock; fourteen of the men are now on board, each at his station; one man stands ready to cut the lashing of the stop which holds the boat in position on the ways; they wait till a squall passes; the word is given, the lashing cut, the man springs to the gunwale of the boat, and climbs on board. Scarcely has he tumbled over the side when the boat rushes down the greased ways and is launched into the surf; the mizen is already set, the foresail is hoisted with all speed, and the boat speeds on her way seaward.
As the day comes the breeze freshens, and many luggers are cruising about, speaking the vessels at anchor, or the vessels running through the Downs, ready to offer any assistance in their power; upon some of the vessels they put men to pilot them into Ramsgate harbour, or round the North Foreland into the Margate Roads.
Or if the wind has blown heavily, there will be generally some vessels that have lost their anchors and cables, and the boatmen will receive orders to supply fresh ones.
There is sometimes a degree of surprise expressed at the amount claimed by a boat's crew for taking an anchor and cable off to a vessel in distress; it requires some knowledge of the work to appreciate its danger, and how hardly and well the money awarded is generally earned.
Consider, as an example, the case of the Albion lugger, as it happened during the gale, some of the incidents of which we are about to relate.
The Albion during her cruise meets with a vessel which is driving before the increasing storm; she has lost both her anchors and cables, and the lugger receives orders to supply her from the shore; the hardy crew receive the order gladly, put the lugger round, and beat through the heavy seas, making for Deal. They have to force the boat against wind and tide, and much skill is required to prevent her being filled by the rising seas which sweep around her; now she rushes upon the beach, the surf breaks over her and half fills her with water; with a tremendous thump and shake, she strikes the shore with her iron keel.
As the wave which bore the lugger in upon the beach recedes, a man springs overboard from the bow with a rope in his hand; many catch hold of the rope, and haul their hardest to keep the boat straight, head on to the beach; there is a stem strap—a chain running through a hole in the front part of the keel; a boatman watches his opportunity, and as a wave sweeps back, rushes down and passes a rope through the loop of the strap; the other end of this rope is fastened to a powerful capstan, which is placed high up on the beach. "Man the capstan! Heave with a will," and the strong men strain at the capstan bars until the capstan creaks again. There is no starting the lugger; she is so full of water from the surf breaking on the beach, that she is too heavy for the men at one capstan to move her; ropes are led down from two other capstans, and rove through a snatch block fastened to a boat on the beach; all put out their strength, round they tramp with a "ho! heave ho!" and slowly the lugger travels up the beach, and is safe from the roll of the breakers. The men get the water out of her, haul her higher up on to a swivel platform, turn her round head to the sea, and the leading hands hurry away to inquire about an anchor and cable. The agent supplies them with such as seem suitable for the size of the vessel, and which will perhaps weigh together about seven tons.
There is no small amount of labour attached to getting the anchor and chain cable on board the lugger, but in a short time all are again ready for sea.
The gale has rapidly increased in force, and a frightful surf is running on the beach; the roar of the breakers on the shingle, the howling of the storm, the gleam of white foam, shining out of the mist and gloom, all picture the wildness of the storm, but the undaunted boatmen do not hesitate; all is ready, the signal given, the boat rushes down the steep ways, and is launched into the sea. A breaking wave rolls in swiftly, it meets the bow of the lugger in its rush, fills her; for a moment the big boat runs under water, and then is lifted and twisted like a toy in the grasp of the sea, and is thrown in the heave of the wave broadside on to the beach; a cry of horror from all on shore, and a rush down to aid the crew, who are all—there are fifteen of them—struggling in the surf; now the men are washed up by the wave, and feel the ground, and stagger forward; now they are caught again by a breaker and rolled over; it is for each of them a terrible battle with the fierce seas; here, one gets on his feet and stumbles forward, he is caught by the men on shore and dragged up the beach; there, a man is lying struggling on the shingle, trying in vain to rise, exhausted and confused; two men seize his collar and pull him forward a yard or two, then get him to his feet, and he escapes the next wave, which would have washed him out to sea again. Now all the men seem to be saved; names are shouted—do all answer? no! there is one missing; all rush to the water's edge, and gaze into the darkness; eagerly watching each shadow mid the surf; there he is! no! yes it is! there lifting on the surf; there rolling over: "Quick, quick, form a line!" and the brave boatmen grasp each other's hands with iron strength and form a chain, the lowest of the four or five men at the sea end of the chain being in the water; the waves battle with them, but sturdily they persevere; at last the body is within the reach of the seaward man, he grasps it, the men are dragged up the beach, and the poor insensible man is carried ashore. Alive? or dead? they cannot say, and with a great fear in their hearts they carry him hurriedly up the beach, and soon, to the great joy of all, he gives signs of life, and gradually recovers.