So well did he accomplish his difficult task that, although the peril they were in was understood, there was no panic. Happily there were very few women and children on board, and the men behaved well.
It was an awful sight, Edgar thought: the saloon filled with people hastening to their death, awaiting the summons from the captain, ‘All hands on deck,’ which meant they were to sell their lives as dearly as possible. The very suddenness of the danger appeared to have taken all sense of fear away. Not a word was spoken; the sobbing of children, and the half-smothered, heart-rending groan of some poor mother, could alone be heard.
A great rush of wind, followed by a loud shout, aroused them:
‘All hands on deck!’
Edgar led the way, and then stood by while the women and children were helped up the stairs. The men followed. Edgar was the last to leave the saloon. Once on deck he saw what their danger was, and from whence it came. The lighthouse stood high up on the rocks, flashing across the sea, and they were so near now that the rays lighted up the faces of those in deadly peril on the doomed ship. Edgar forced his way towards the captain’s cabin, and found Mrs. Manton and Eva crouching down, overcome with fear. He spoke a few words of encouragement, and little Eva looked up into his face with wistful eyes.
Then Edgar looked round the ship as the light flashed on it again. He saw pale, blanched faces all round him, men clinging in desperation to ropes and bars, and women holding their children fast, themselves held by strong men’s disengaged arms. It was an awful sight, but Edgar felt no fear for himself as he looked at it. He thought of the grand voyage they had gone through, and how near they were to their destination. The good ship was struggling on, and after going these thousands of miles was to be dashed to pieces at the very entrance to the harbour of safety. His mind wandered to those at home, and he seemed to see his father and sister sitting in the dear old room at Elm Lodge, as on that last night in the home he loved so well. Their voices seemed to ring in his ears, giving him hope and encouragement. He smiled faintly as he imagined he could hear his father say:
‘You’re in a tight fix, my lad, but never despair; be brave and fight to the end.’
A loud cry of despair echoed through the night. It was wafted to the watchers on the rocks, who stood there helpless, unable to lend a hand to save the men and women going to sure destruction. Again it rose above the roar of the sea, and Edgar shuddered as he heard it.
Well might the doomed ones cry aloud. To the right of them, not many yards away, yawned a large opening between the gigantic rocky Heads. Through that opening lay safety and rest, and yet no power on earth could drive the Distant Shore through it. Facing them was another gap, but there was no opening there; the solid rock rose straight out of the sea. On came the Distant Shore through the boiling, seething mass of waters.
Captain Manton stood at his post. Once he cast his eyes in the direction of his cabin, and a satisfied smile played over his face as he saw Edgar there.