Battles with the Sea | Page 9

partially clothed and trembling women. It
chanced that one small infant was bundled up in a blanket by a frantic
passenger and handed over the side. The man who received it,
mistaking it for merely a blanket, cried, "Here, Bill, catch!" and tossed
it into the boat. Bill, with difficulty, caught it as it was flying overboard;
at the same moment a woman cried, "My child! my child!" sprang
forward, snatched the bundle from the horrified Bill, and hugged it to
her bosom!
At last the boat, being sufficiently filled, was hauled up to her anchor.
Sail was hoisted, and away they flew into the surging darkness, leaving
the rest of the emigrants still filled with terrible anxiety, but not now
with hopeless despair.
The lifeboat and her tender work admirably together. Knowing exactly
what must be going on, and what would be required of him, though he
could see nothing, the captain of the Aid, after the boat had slipped
from him, had run down along the sands to leeward of the wreck, and
there waited. Presently he saw the boat coming like a phantom out of
the gloom. It was quickly alongside, and the rescued people--
twenty-five women and children--were transferred to the steamer, taken
down to her cabin, and tenderly cared for. Making this transfer in such
a sea was itself difficult in the extreme, and accompanied with great
danger, but difficulty and danger were the rule that night, not the
exception. All went well. The Aid, with the warrior-boat in tow,
steamed back to windward of the wreck; then the lifeboat slipped the
cable as before, and returned to the conflict, leaping over the seething
billows to the field of battle like a warhorse refreshed.
The stirring scene was repeated with success. Forty women and
children were rescued on the second trip, and put on board the steamer.
Leaden daylight now began to dawn. Many hours had the "storm
warriors" been engaged in the wild exhausting fight, nevertheless a
third and a fourth time did they charge the foe, and each time with the

same result. All the passengers were finally rescued and put on board
the steamer.
But now arose a difficulty. The tide had been falling and leaving the
wreck, so that the captain and crew determined to stick to her in the
hope of getting her off, if the gale should abate before the tide rose
again.
It was therefore agreed that the lifeboat should remain by her in case of
accidents; so the exhausted men had to prepare for a weary wait in their
wildly plunging boat, while the Aid went off with her rescued people to
Ramsgate.
But the adventures of that night were not yet over. The tug had not
been gone above an hour and a half, when, to the surprise of those in
the lifeboat, she was seen returning, with her flag flying half mast high,
a signal of recall to her boat. The lifeboat slipped from the side of the
wreck and ran to meet her. The reason was soon explained. On his way
back to Ramsgate the captain had discovered another large vessel on
her beam-ends, a complete wreck, on that part of the sands named the
Shingles. It was the Demerara, and her crew were still seen clinging to
the quivering mast on which they had spent the livelong night.
More work for the well-nigh worn out heroes! Away they went to the
rescue as though they had been a fresh crew. Dashing through the surf
they drew near the doomed ship, which creaked and groaned when
struck by the tremendous seas, and threatened to go to pieces every
moment. The sixteen men on the mast were drenched by every sea.
Several times that awful night they had, as it were, been mocked by
false hopes of deliverance. They had seen the flashing of the rockets
and faintly heard the thunder of the alarm-guns fired by the lightships.
They had seen the lights of the steamer while she searched in vain for
them on first reaching the sands, had observed the smaller light of the
boat in tow, whose crew would have been so glad to save them, and
had shouted in vain to them as they passed by on their errand of mercy
to other parts of the sands, leaving them a prey to darkness and despair.
But a merciful and loving God had seen and heard them all the time,
and now sent them aid at the eleventh hour.

When the lifeboat at last made in towards them the ebb tide was
running strongly, and, from the position of the wreck, it was impossible
to anchor to windward and drop down to leeward in the usual fashion.
They had, therefore, to adopt the dangerous plan