Saved by the Lifeboat | Page 2

and flakes of foam were whirled madly about. But the most awful sight of all was the seething of the sea as it advanced in a succession of great breaking "rollers" into the bay, and churned itself white among the rocks.
Out among these billows, scarce visible in the midst of the conflicting elements, were seen the dark hull, shattered masts, and riven sails of a large brig, over which the waves made clear breaches continually.
In the little harbour of the seaport, which was named Covelly, a number of strong men were engaged in hastily launching a new lifeboat, which had been placed at that station only three weeks before, while, clustering about the pier, and behind every sheltered nook along the shore, were hundreds of excited spectators, not a few of whom were women.
Much earnest talk had there been among the gossips in the town when the lifeboat referred to arrived. Deep, and nautically learned, were the discussions that had been held as to her capabilities, and great the longing for a stiffish gale in order that her powers might be fairly tested in rough weather, for in those days lifeboats were not so numerous as, happily, they now are. Many of the town's-people had only heard of such boats; few had seen, and not one had ever had experience of them. After her arrival the weather had continued tantalisingly calm and fine until the day of the storm above referred to, when at length it changed, and a gale burst forth with such violence that the bravest men in the place shook their heads, and said that no boat of any kind whatever could live in such a sea.
When, however, the brig before referred to was seen to rush helplessly into the bay and to strike on the sands where the seas ran most furiously, all lent a willing hand to launch the new lifeboat into the harbour, and a few men, leaping in, pulled her across to the stairs near the entrance, where a number of seamen were congregated, holding on under the lee of the parapet-wall, and gazing anxiously at the fearful scene outside.
"Impossible!" said one; "no boat could live in such a sea for half a minute."
"The moment she shows her nose outside the breakwater she'll capsize," observed another.
"We'll have to risk it, anyhow," remarked a stout young fellow, "for I see men in the foreshrouds of the wreck, and I, for one, won't stand by and see them lost while we've got a lifeboat by us. Why, wot's the use o' callin' it a lifeboat if it can't do more than other boats?"
As he spoke there came an unusually furious gust which sent a wave right over the pier, and well-nigh swept away one or two of them. The argument of the storm was more powerful than that of the young sailor-- no one responded to his appeal, and when the boat came alongside the stairs, none moved to enter her except himself.
"That's right, Bob Gaston," cried one of the four men who had jumped into the boat when she was launched, "I know'd you would be the first."
"And I won't be the last either," said young Gaston, looking back at the men on the pier with a smile.
"Right, lad!" cried Captain Boyns, who came up at the instant and leaped into the boat. "Come, lads, we want four more hands--no, no, Harry," he added, pushing back his son; "your arms are not yet strong enough; come lads, we've no time to lose."
As he spoke, a faint cry was heard coming from the wreck, and it was seen that one of the masts had gone by the board, carrying, it was feared, several poor fellows along with it. Instantly there was a rush to the lifeboat! All thought of personal danger appeared to have been banished from the minds of the fishermen when the cry of distress broke on their ears. The boat was overmanned, and old Jacobs, the coxswain, had to order several of them to go ashore again. In another minute they were at the mouth of the harbour, and the men paused an instant as if to gather strength for the mortal struggle before quitting the shelter of the breakwater, and facing the fury of wind and waves.
"Give way, lads! give way!" shouted old Jacobs, as he stood up in the stern-sheets and grasped the steering oar.
The men bent to the oars with all their might, and the boat leaped out into the boiling sea. This was not one of those splendid boats which now line the shores of the United Kingdom; nevertheless, it was a noble craft--one of the good, stable, insubmergible and self-emptying kind which were known as the Greathead lifeboats, and which for many years did good service on