This initial danger past, it was little the men cared for their drenching. As little did the boat mind the water, which she instantly expelled through the discharging tubes in her floor. But the toil now began. In the teeth of tide and tempest they had to pull with might and main; advancing foot by foot, sometimes only inch by inch. No rest; no breathing time; nothing but continuous tearing at the oars, if progress was to be made, while the spray enveloped them perpetually, and at frequent intervals the “solid” water, plunging inboard, almost swept the heroes from their seats.
But if the raging sea through which the lifeboat struggled was dreadful, much more terrible was the turmoil on the outlying sands where the wreck was being gradually dashed to pieces. There the mad billows held high revelry. Rushing in from all sides, twisted and turned in their courses by the battered shoals, they met not far from, the wreck with the shock of opposing armies, and clouds of foam sprang upward in dire, indescribable confusion.
The vessel in distress was a small brig. She had been lifted like a plaything by the waves, and hurled high on the sand, where, although now unable to lift her up, they rolled her to and fro with extreme violence. Rocket after rocket had been sent up, until the drenching seas had rendered the firing of them impossible. The foremast had already gone by the board, carrying most of the crew with it. On the cross-trees of the mainmast only two remained—a man and a woman, who could barely maintain their hold as the battered craft swayed from side to side.
“The end comes at last, darling Mary,” said the man, as he grasped the woman tightly with one arm and the mast with the other.
“No, father—not yet,” gasped the woman; “see—the lifeboat! I felt sure that God would send it.”
On came the gallant little craft. There was just light enough to enable those on the wreck to see dimly her white and blue sides as she laboured through the foam towards them.
“They have missed us, father; they don’t see us!” cried the girl.
The blast blew her long hair about, adding wildness to the look of alarm which she cast on the man while speaking.
“Nay, darling, it’s all right. They’ve only pulled a bit to wind’ard. Keep on praying, Mary.”
When well to windward of the wreck the anchor of the lifeboat was let go, and they began to drop down towards the vessel by the cable. Then, for the first time, the men could draw a long breath and relax their efforts at the oars, for wind and waves were now in their favour, though they still dashed and tossed and buffeted them.