“We shall reach the ship before long—we shall reach the ship,” she kept exclaiming; “row, Shane, row. Oh, brother, if you have ever loved me, do not fail me now.”
Thus they continued rowing on. Not an hour before it would have been impossible for the boat to have made any progress; now, however, by the subsidence of the gale, the undertaking, though difficult and dangerous, was possible. As they drew near, even now several struggling forms were seen in the foaming waters, but ere they could reach them, one after another sank beneath the waves. A few, however were clinging to planks and spars, but the widow refused to go near them; it might have proved the destruction of the boat, had the attempt been made.
“They are floating, and will in time reach the shore,” she said to Shane, “or if the sea goes down still more, we may return to pick them up. There are still some alive on board the ship; even just now, I saw an arm waving. Row on, row on, we may yet be in time—we may yet be in time.”
The larger portion of the wreck had before this, however, been broken up, but the after-part and the starboard side of the quarter-deck remained entire. As the boat approached the wreck, broken planks and timbers continued to be washed away, till but a small portion appeared to remain.
By persevering efforts, the boat, however, drew nearer and nearer, avoiding, though not without difficulty, the masses of wreck which floated by. As the fishwife and her brother looked up, they saw two human beings still clinging to the remaining fragments of the ship; one was waving his hand as if to urge them to greater speed. No other human beings were to be seen on board. A few had just before apparently committed themselves to a raft, and with this support were now approaching the shore. They had, however, passed at some little distance from the boat. Sea after sea rolling in dashed against the wreck, sometimes the spray almost hiding those on board from view. Larger and larger portions continued to give way; every sea which rolled in carried off the timbers or more planks from the sides. The boat was within fifty fathoms or so of the rocks, Shane looking out anxiously for any part of the wreck by which it might be approached with least danger. It seemed scarcely possible for them to get near enough to aid those on board.
“I fear, sister, we shall be too late,” exclaimed Shane; “even now yonder sea which comes in looks as if it were about to tear the remainder of the wreck to fragments.”
With a thundering sound the sea he pointed at broke against the wreck. In an instant the remaining masses of timber gave way, and were dashed forward into the boiling sea.
“Pull on, Shane, pull on,” cried the widow. “I see two men still struggling in the waves; one is supporting the other, and guarding him from the timbers which float around.”
“Which timbers may stave in the boat, and drown us all,” observed Shane.
“No matter, Shane, pull on—pull on; let us not set our lives against those of the brave men who are floating yonder. What matters it after all if we are lost? Death can come but once to any of us.” It is impossible to give the force of those words, uttered, as they were, in the native tongue of the Irish, which she spoke. “Pull on, Shane, pull on,” again she cried. “Boy, steer for those men; see, they are still floating above the waves.”