“I’ll stick by the lifeboat,” shouted the man-of-war’s man, and they parted.
Ah! it was grand to see that lifeboat go into action. She could be easily seen, though the night was so dark, for she was painted pure white and bright blue, with a scarlet strip round her—a “thing of light,” but by no means a light thing! She was so large, and stout, and heavy, that she required a strong carriage on four wheels to transport her from her boat-house to the edge of the sea, which foamed, and hissed, and leaped up at her bow as if to taste the morsel which it hoped soon to swallow.
While the boat was yet on its carriage, her stout coxswain, or captain, clambered in.
“Now then, my jolly volunteers,” he shouted, “jump up, and on wi’ your life-belts.”
At that word our handsome young sailor laid his hands on the edge of the boat and vaulted into her as if he had been made of india-rubber. Ten more men followed his example, and quickly put on their belts.
“Nobody’s allowed to go off without a life-belt,” said the coxswain to the young sailor, “besides, it’s against rules to let you go.”
“How’s that?” asked the youth; “you called for volunteers.”
“Yes, but our volunteer-crew is already made up, so you must jump out. Thank you all the same, my fine fellow.”
The man-of-war’s man was too well disciplined to think of resistance, even for a moment. With a look of disappointment and an active bound, he leaped out upon the sand.
At that moment one of the men raised an oar, which was blown round by a sudden blast, and its end struck another of the crew on the temple, rendering him almost insensible. He had to be put out at once, and another volunteer was called for. Like a flash of light, our youthful seaman again vaulted into the boat. His services were now accepted, and a cork life-belt was given to him, which he quickly put on.