The order was promptly obeyed, and the helm shoved hard a-port, but there was no responsive sheer. The sea was at the time currentless. Another moment and the vessel, which was a large deserted brig, struck the floating light on the port-bow, and her fore shrouds caught the fluke of the spare anchor which projected from the side.
“An axe, Jerry; look alive!”
Jerry required no spur; he bounded forward, caught up an axe, and leaped with it into the chains of the vessel, which had already smashed part of the Gull’s bulwarks and wrenched the iron band off the cat-head.
“Cut away everything,” cried the mate, who observed that the decks of the brig were full of water, and feared that she might be in a sinking condition.
The other men of the Gull were busy with boat-hooks, oars, and fenders, straining every nerve to get clear of this unwelcome visitor, while Jerry dealt the shrouds a few telling blows which quickly cut them through, but, in sweeping past, the main-topsail yard-arm of the brig went crashing into the lantern. Instantly the lamps were extinguished, and the bright beams of the floating light were gone! The brig then dropt astern and was soon lost to view.
This was a disaster of the most serious nature—involving as it did the absence of a light, on the faithful glow of which the fate of hundreds of vessels might depend. Fortunately, however, the extreme fury of the gale had begun to abate; it was therefore probable that all the vessels which had not already been wrecked had found ports of shelter, or would now be able to hold on to their anchors and weather the storm.
But floating-lights are not left without resource in a catastrophe such as this. In the book of Regulations for the Service it is ordered that, in circumstances of this kind, two red lights are to be shown, one at the end of the davit forward, the other on a stanchion beside the ensign staff aft, and likewise a red flare light is to be shown every quarter of an hour. Accordingly, while some of the men lit and fixed up the red lanterns, Jerry MacGowl was told off to the duty of showing the red flares, or, as he himself expressed it, “settin’ off a succession o’ fireworks, which wos mightily purty, no doubt, an’ would have bin highly entertainin’ if it had been foin weather, and a time of rejoycin’!”
Meanwhile the lantern was lowered, and it was found that the only damage done had been the shattering of one of its large panes of glass. The lamps, although blown out, had not been injured. The men therefore set vigorously to work to put in a spare pane, and get the light once more into working order.
Leaving them, then, at this important piece of work, let us turn aside awhile and follow the fortunes of the good ship Wellington on that terrible night of storm and disaster.
When the storm was brewing she was not far from the Downs, but the baffling winds retarded her progress, and it was pitch dark when she reached the neighbourhood of the Goodwin sands. Nevertheless those on board of her did not feel much uneasiness, because a good pilot had been secured in the channel.