Charlie to the Rescue | Page 6

came to the end of the lane, and the sea, lashed to its wildest
condition, lay before them like a sheet of tortured foam.
"Grand! isn't it?" said Brooke, stopping and drawing himself up for a
moment, as if with a desire to combat the opposing elements.
If May Leather could not speak, she could at all events gaze, for she
had superb brown eyes, and they glittered, just then, like glowing coals,
while a wealth of rippling brown hair was blown from its fastenings,
and flew straight out behind her.
"Look! look there!" shouted her brother with a wild expression, as he
pointed to a part of the rocky shore where a vessel was dimly seen
through the drift.
"She's trying to weather the point," exclaimed Brooke, clearing the
moisture from his eyes, and endeavouring to look steadily.
"She'll never weather it. See! the fishermen are following her
along-shore," cried young Leather, dropping his sister's arm, and
bounding away.
"Oh! don't leave me behind, Shank," pleaded May.
Shank was beyond recall, but our hero, who had also sprung forward,
heard the pleading voice and turned back.
"Here, hook on to me," he cried quickly, for he was in no humour to
delay.
The girl grasped his arm at once, and, to say truth, she was not much of
a hindrance, for, although somewhat inelegant, as we have said, she
was lithe as a lizard and fleet as a young colt.

A few minutes brought them to the level shore where Brooke left May
to shelter herself with some fisher-women behind a low wall, while he
ran along to a spot where a crowd of fishermen and old salts, enveloped
in oil-skins, were discussing the situation as they leaned against the
shrieking wind.
"Will she weather it, Grinder, think you?" he asked of an elderly man,
whose rugged features resembled mahogany, the result of having bid
defiance to wind and weather for nigh half a century.
"She may, Mr Brooke, an' she mayn't," answered the matter-of-fact
man of the sea, in the gruff monotone with which he would have
summoned all hands to close reef in a hurricane. "If her tackle holds
she'll do it. If it don't she won't."
"We've sent round for the rocket anyhow," said a smart young
fisherman, who seemed to rejoice in opposing his broad chest to the
blast, and in listening to the thunder of the waves as they rolled into the
exposed bay in great battalions, chasing each other in wild tumultuous
fury, as if each were bent on being first in the mad assault upon the
shore.
"Has the lifeboat coxswain been called?" asked Charlie, after a few
minutes' silence, for the voice of contending elements was too great to
render converse easy or agreeable.
"Yes, sir," answered the man nearest to him, "but she's bin called to a
wreck in Mussel Bay, an' that brig will be all right or in Davy Jones's
locker long afore th' lifeboat 'ud fetch round here."
Silence again fell on the group as they gazed out to sea, pushing
eagerly down the beach until they were ankle-deep in the foam of each
expended wave; for the brig was by that time close on the point of
rocks, staggering under more sail than she could carry with safety.
"She'll do it!" exclaimed the smart young fisherman, ready to cheer
with enthusiastic hope.

"Done for! Lost!" cried one, while something like a groan burst from
the others as they saw the brig's topmasts go over the side, and one of
her sails blown to ribbons. She fell away towards the rocks at once.
Like great black teeth these rocks seemed to leap in the midst of the
foam, as if longing to grasp the ill-fated vessel, which had, indeed, all
but weathered the dangerous point, and all might have been well if her
gear had only held; but now, as if paralysed, she drifted into the bay
where certain destruction awaited her.
Just at that moment a great cheer arose, for the rocket-cart, drawn by
the men of the Coast-Guard, was seen rattling over the downs towards
them.
Anxiety for the fate of the doomed brig was now changed into eager
hope for the rescue of her crew. The fishermen crowded round the
Coast-Guard men as they ran the cart close down to the water's edge,
and some of them--specially the smart young fellow already
mentioned--made eager offer of their services. Charlie Brooke stood
aloof, looking on with profound interest, for it was the first time he had
ever seen the Manby rocket apparatus brought into action. He made no
hasty offer to assist, for he was a cool youth--even while burning with
impatient enthusiasm-- and saw at a glance that the men of the
Coast-Guard were well able