“Remember men’s lives may depend on the way you manage that affair, lads. Now bear it along with you to the beach, to the spot where the ship is likely to come ashore. Deb, we’ll be back for dinner I hope, and shall not have worse appetites. Perhaps we may have a guest or two,” he added, as we went out.
We had not gone far before we met two of the coastguard men, who had heard the firing. The head station, where the lieutenant resided, was at a considerable distance, and it was feared that he had gone in an opposite direction. Though the coastguard men would be of great assistance, Hollis was still to have charge of the apparatus. Uncle Boz having speedily made his arrangements, hurried off to the village, while we continued our course along the beach. Behind us was a lofty sand-hill, and Hollis ordered King and me to climb up to try and discover the ship. It was bitter work, even on the beach, much worse for the poor fellows wet through and through at sea. At first, on reaching the top of the sand-hill, we could see nothing, but soon the snow fell less densely, and through it we discovered the dim outline of a large ship, now almost buried in the trough of the sea, now lifted to the foaming summit of a wave as she drove onward towards the beach. Her masts were gone, though her bowsprit remained. The tide was carrying her somewhat along the beach, so that it seemed as if she would drift not far from the harbour itself. While we were watching, the snow ceased falling, and our interest was now turned towards the boat with Uncle Boz and Bambo in her. She had just reached the mouth of the harbour. It was perilous work. Huge seas were rolling in. A lull was waited for. Out dashed the boat. It seemed as if it were impossible she could live amid those troubled waters. How we held our breath as we watched her progress. Now it seemed as if she were overwhelmed by the curling, foaming seas; then again she emerged and struggled on, buoyantly floating on their summits. To save the ship was beyond human power, but the wish of Uncle Boz was evidently to try and pilot her in between two rocks, where her crew might perhaps reach the shore. Lives are more generally lost when a ship drives on an open beach than when among rocks. In one instance the people may cling to the rocks, but the undertow from the beach sweeps them out as often as they struggle towards it, till their strength fails, and they sink beneath the waves. With a glass King had brought, we could see the people on the deck of the hapless craft. King handed it to me. “What do you see now?” he asked.
“Women as well as men, two or three at least,” I exclaimed, almost breathless. “Poor creatures! Oh, King, suppose there were children among them!”
The ship rolled fearfully, while the seas meeting with the resistance of her already water-logged hull broke over it in showers of foam, which must have frozen as they fell on her deck. Her crew were huddled together, some forward and some with the passengers aft. For her size there appeared to be very few seamen. We told Hollis.
“When the masts went, many of them likely enough went also,” was his answer.
Hitherto they had not observed the boat. We saw Uncle Boz waving to them. There was a movement among the men. They saw him; an attempt was made to hoist a sail on the stump of the foremast. It was blown away in an instant.
“No anchor would hold; yet it is their only chance,” said Hollis. The coastguard men agreed.
The attempt was made. We saw the crew cutting the stoppers. It was a moment of breathless anxiety. “Yes, it holds,” was shouted. The ship brought up head to wind. The boat was making way towards her.
“It will never hold,” cried Hollis.
Now was the opportunity for the boat to get alongside. Should the cable part, three minutes would see the ship amid the cruel breakers. The boat seemed almost stationary; the people on deck stretched out their hands to her imploringly. Our eyes ached with gazing on her. We thought not of the biting wind, the piercing cold.