It was nearly low water at the time of the disaster. As the tide fell the wreck ceased to heave. Then it became possible for the seamen to move about without clinging to shrouds and stanchions for very life.
“Fetch a rocket, Jim,” said the captain to one of the men.
Jim obeyed, and soon a whizzing line of light was seen athwart the black sky.
“They’ll never see it,” muttered the first mate, as he got ready another rocket. “Weather’s too thick.”
Several rockets were fired, and then, to make more sure of attracting the lifeboat men, a tar-barrel, fastened to the end of a spar, was thrust out ahead and set on fire. By the grand lurid flare of this giant torch the surrounding desolation was made more apparent, and at the fearful sight hearts which had hitherto held up began to sink in despair.
The mate’s fears seemed to be well grounded, for no answering signal was seen to rise from the land, towards which every eye was anxiously strained. One hour passed, then another, and another, but still no help came. Then the tide began to rise, and with it, of course, the danger to increase. All this time rockets had been sent up at intervals, and tar-barrels had been kept burning.
“We had better make the women and children fast, sir,” suggested the mate, as a heavy mass of spray burst over the bulwarks and drenched them.
“Do so,” replied the captain, gathering up a coil of rope to assist in the work.
“Is this necessary?” asked the widow, as the captain approached her.
“I fear it is,” he replied. “The tide is rising fast. In a short time the waves will be breaking over us again, and you will run a chance of bein’ swept away if we don’t make you fast. But don’t despair, they must have seen our signals by this time, an’ we shall soon have the lifeboat out.”