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

by John Gilmore

The Goodwin Sands are about nine miles long; in the middle of them there is at low water a large lake, which is called on the chart "Trinity Bay," but which is known to the boatmen as the In-sand; the men row in the direction of this lake, and row over the sand-banks which surround it, as soon as the tide has flowed sufficiently to enable them to do so; now they find themselves in completely smooth water, and are safe; but for how long? a short hour or so, for the hungry waves are following them up fast, still higher and higher comes the tide, and a furious surf begins to rage over the banks that for a time protect the lake.

Well do the men know how short a time of rest remains to them; they hear the beat of the heavy waves thundering near, they see the gleam of the surf, the sea begins to boil up around them, the circle of safety gets each moment more narrow, their dread ruthless enemy is on them again, and the men brace themselves for a life-and-death struggle, for with such a struggle they are face to face.

"Now, my men, to it again! look out all!" and each man grasps his oar hard, fixes his eye upon the steersman, James Penny, watches his every sign, and listens to his every word; for in the struggle that is before them any mistake may be at once fatal to all.

The big waves roll in, fast following each other, and the boat meets each one head on, and rises to it; the surf flies over the men, and into the boat; "Bale away, Penny! bale away! or she will swamp!"—and fast the steersman bales; he has one hand on the tiller, and is watching the direction of every wave, and shouting to the men, on which side to ease, on which to pull a little harder, to keep the boat's head straight to the waves; for if but one wave catches the boat on the side it will roll her over at once, and all must perish; they must row sometimes harder in a lull, sometimes gently when a high roller comes, to avoid its breaking upon them, or to prevent their burying the boat's bow in its steep side.

The coxswain sees a tremendous wave rolling on; a few smaller ones come first; up the boat flies, down again, again mounts high, and again falls down; "Steady all, look out, half a stroke hard starboard side, easy port, now easy all—easy all;" the men stop pulling, and lay their oars flat on the water to steady the boat; the great wave rolls on, the boat's bow is tossed high, nearly on end, the men lean back as far as possible, but can scarcely keep their seats, or prevent being thrown bodily forward upon the coxswain; the boat falls with a heavy plunge; there is a moment's lull. "Now a stroke, or two, my men;" and they gently press the boat forward and make a little way; "Easy all, head her to it, here she comes," and up again they mount upon the crest of a wave, and are again nearly turned end-over-end, but, happily, fall on an even keel as the wave passes, and at once prepare themselves to meet the next sea, and thus meeting wave after wave, overcoming danger after danger, they go drifting slowly with the tide. The men do not dare at any time to pull hard for fear of rowing the boat under, they make therefore but little way ahead, not more than half a mile, or so, an hour, but they are carried slowly by the tide down Trinity Bay in the direction of the Downs.

The boat has been nearly full of water all this time, from the surf and spray that have broken into her, but she happily has a belt of cork round her, underneath the thwarts, or she must have long since been swamped, but this, with the constant baling of the coxswain, has kept her afloat.

The men have been able to remain in the bay until the tide has risen greatly, and it is now high water over the Sands, and the water being deeper, the seas do not break nearly as heavily as before; they are mounting seas, not running seas. The mounting sea swells up and comes pushing along, like a hill of water, steep on both sides; its crest is caught by the wind and is driven away in clouds of spray and foam, but a boat meeting it has time to rise, and float over it; but a running sea is much more dangerous; its base is caught and retarded by the Sands; it comes along, its sides steep as a wall, its crest curling more and more over until it breaks, and the upper portion of the wave falls with a mighty crash, with perhaps tons of water in its volume; it would be impossible for any boat but a life-boat to contend for a moment with such a rushing breaking sea as this, and the little boat the six men are in, with its heavy freight, would be swamped, beaten under water and rolled over by the first such sea she met; but if the men can only steer clear of these breakers, and keep the boat's head so as to meet the mounting seas bow on, and manage to bale her constantly so as to keep her a little free from water, they may live through it all yet; with this hope they labour on steadily, bravely, and hour after hour they thus contend with the storm; the boat is now coming to the worst of the water—to the steep edge of the Sand—and the men feel that, for a time, the danger must increase, and all brace themselves up again, prepared for any further effort, or care, that may be required.

The steersman, who has been steering and baling the boat for about four hours, suddenly lets the bowl with which he is baling fly from his hand; he gives a cry of horror, the men cannot help repeating it, for is not this likely to be a death-stroke to them all? The men at once realize the dread increase of danger this misfortune creates.

To keep the boat afloat without baling is impossible; the surf breaks into her continually; the men cannot bale with their southwesters, for they must keep rowing; they require both hands, and to exert all their strength to free their oars from the seas, and to keep the blades from being blown up into the air, as the force of the gale catches them; while the steersman must of necessity keep one hand on the tiller; and all must continue labouring without one moment's cessation to keep the boat's head straight to the seas.