Washed Ashore; Or, The Tower of Stormount Bay

by William Henry Giles Kingston

The ship had indeed gone down; and it seemed impossible that any but the strongest swimmers could keep afloat till the boat should reach the spot. Still they watched for an occasional glimpse of her, for they were certain that the captain would not return till he had been compelled to abandon all hope of saving life. Since he had gone out the rain had cleared off, but at the moment the ship disappeared a thick driving rain came sweeping on over the ocean, soon shutting out the boat from view. In vain the lady and her daughter waited till the veil of mist should clear off; and at length their anxiety became too great for endurance. They thought that Tom would come in to relieve this impatience, but he did not appear.

“Come, dearest, come! we must go down to the beach,” said Mrs Askew, taking Margery’s hand.

Their cloaks and hats were soon put on, and together they hastened down to the shore, where they saw a group of men, with Tom in the midst. In spite of the rain driving in their faces, they pressed on. The men were eagerly looking out over the sea. Some held coils of rope in their hands, others long poles, while Tom had fastened a number of cork net-floats together to form a life-buoy. They drew aside as they saw the lady and her daughter.

“No fear, marm!” exclaimed Tom, when he observed their alarmed looks. “We doesn’t think anything has happened to the captain, do you see, but it’s just as well to be ready for whatever does happen, and there’s no saying what that may be.”

So poor Mrs Askew and Margery thought; and they were thankful that their friends were making such preparations, as seemed to them, for the worst. Indeed, they might well do so. The huge billows came rolling in towards the shore, breaking with a loud roar on the beach into masses of foam, and then rolling back again, looking as if it must sweep off everything it might encounter. Mrs Askew found that some parties of men had gone along the coast to the eastward with ropes, on the possibility of some of the wreck driving on shore in that direction, for they were not aware that the ship had gone down, the mist having come on almost at the moment of the catastrophe. Some of them shook their heads behind the lady’s back when they heard of it. The captain would be tempted to go looking about round the spot till darkness should come on, and then the return on shore would be doubly hazardous. One thing was certain, that he would select the spot where they were for running in the boat, as it was the only one for miles along the coast affording the slightest chance of safety. This was owing to its being sheltered by the cape from the south-west, a small bay being formed within the bay. Still the sea rolled in even there with great force, and the landing was an undertaking of great difficulty and risk. Mrs Askew heard the men say that in one respect the boat would gain by the delay, as the tide was on the point of turning, and would set up Channel with the wind, thus enabling her to return more speedily, while the sea might not possibly break so much as it had hitherto been doing. Tom wanted Mrs Askew and Margery to return to the tower; but, though the rain pelted down, and the wind blew against them so that they could scarcely stand, they persisted in awaiting the expected return of the boat.

Now the mist cleared off a little; they peered anxiously out, but no boat was to be seen. Now it settled down thicker than ever, and all they could see was billow after billow crested with foam come rolling in, and breaking with loud roars on the beach, making the very ground beneath their feet tremble. They stood with their hands clasped together, Margery partly sheltered by her mother’s cloak. As they could see but a short distance, they listened the more attentively, in the hope of hearing some sound which might give them notice of the approach of the boat. At length Margery started, and bent forward; either her quick ears had distinguished a shout amid the roar of the waters, or she fancied that she heard one. She waited for some time. “Oh! yes, mother, it is—it is! I hear a voice—it is papa’s! He is shouting! He is telling the men to do something! I know it is him!” exclaimed Margery, darting forward. Was it the little girl’s fancy, or not? Surely not her fancy, though no one else heard the voice.

Suddenly the mist again for an instant cleared away, and revealed the boat on the summit of a billow, close in with the shore. Now is the time for the men on the beach to exert themselves if they will save the lives of their friends, though the risk of losing their own is very great. The strongest secure the ropes round their waists, and prepare to rush into the sea that they may seize the boat as she touches the beach, before the sea can draw her back again or those in her.

On comes the boat—the captain steers her with consummate skill; the brave crew exert themselves to the utmost, yet with difficulty can they prevent her from being turned broadside to sea, and rolled over on the beach. Those who are watching hold their breath with anxiety. Margery and her mother stand trembling. Tom can do but little except hold on to the end of one of the ropes. The boat draws nearer—then down she comes. The sea follows, ready to sweep all out of the boat, as if disappointed of its prey; but those on shore each grasp a man. Tom seizes his master with his hook, and drags him up the beach. Others attend to the boat. She is quickly hauled up, and all are safe. Margery and her mother were soon in the captain’s arms: they were recompensed for all they had suffered by seeing him safe. But where were those they had gone out to rescue? Were none preserved? Yes! one person had been discovered alone, of the numbers who had been on board the ship—a black boy, but he could speak but a few words of English, and could give no account of the ship.

The captain, with his wife and daughter, and Tom leading the young stranger, now hurried up towards the tower. The captain stopped, however, for a moment before he went. “Thank ye, lads, for what you’ve done!” he said; “it was your best, and you could do no more; and one life saved is better than none. As soon as you’ve shaken yourselves dry, come up to the tower, and such fare as I can offer you I’ll give it gladly.”

“Thank ye, sir, thank ye!” answered the crew of the boat, “we’ll come by and by, if it’s only to drink yours and the missus’s health.”