The Pirate Island | Page 8

through the wintry sea.
The women once safe, the men made short work of it; and in little over
two hours twenty-five souls--the survivors of a company of passengers
and crew numbering in all forty-two--were safely transferred to the
Seamew, which, slipping her cable, at once bore away with her precious

freight for Brightlingsea.
CHAPTER TWO.
THE "BETSY JANE."
Once fairly out of the breakers the fishermen--at great risk to their little
craft--opened the companion leading down into the Seamew's tiny
after-cabin, and the poor souls from the wreck were conveyed below,
out of the reach of the bitter blast and the incessant showers of icy
spray. Bob and two or three others of the smack's crew also went below
and busied themselves in lighting a fire, routing out such blankets and
wraps of various kinds as happened to be on board, and in other ways
doing what they could to ameliorate the deplorable condition of their
guests. Fortunately the wind, dead against them on the way out, was
fair for the homeward run, and the Seamew rushed through the water at
a rate which caused "Dicky" Bird to exclaim--
"Blest if the little huzzy don't seem to know as they poor innercent
babbies' lives depends on their gettin' into mother Salmon's hands and
atween her hot blankets within the next hour! Just see how she's
smoking through it."
Very soon the "Middle" lightship was reached, and as the smack swept
past old Bill shouted to the light-keepers the joyful news of the rescue.
A few minutes afterwards three rockets were sent up at short intervals
from the smack, as an intimation to "mother" Salmon that her good
services were required; and in due time the gallant little smack found
her way back to her moorings in the creek.
The anchor was scarcely let go when three or four boats dashed
alongside, and "Well, Bill, old man, what luck?" was the general
question.
"Five-and-twenty, thank God, men, women, and children," responded
old Bill. "Did ye catch sight of our rockets, boys!"
"Ay, ay; never fear. And `mother' ashore there, she's never turned-in at

all this blessed night. Said as she was sure you'd bring somebody in;
and a rare rousing fire she's got roaring up the chimbley, and blankets,
no end; all the beds made up and warmed, and everything ready, down
to a rattlin' good hot supper; so let's have these poor souls up on deck
(you've got 'em below, I s'pose), and get 'em ashore; they must be pretty
nigh froze to death, I should think."
At Bill's cheery summons the survivors from the wreck staggered to the
smack's deck--their cramped and frozen limbs scarcely able to sustain
them--and the bewildered glances which they cast round them at the
scarcely ruffled waters of the creek glancing in the clear frosty
moonlight, with the fishing smacks and other small craft riding cosily
at anchor on either side, the straggling village of Brightlingsea within a
stone's throw--a tiny light still twinkling here and there in the cottage
windows, and a perfect blaze of ruddy light streaming from the
windows of the "Anchor," and flooding the road with its cheerful
radiance--the bewildered glances with which they regarded this scene, I
say, showed that even now they were scarcely able to realise the fact of
their deliverance.
But they were not left very long in doubt about it. As they emerged
with slow and painful steps from the smack's tiny companion, strong
arms seized them, all enwrapped in blankets as they were, and quickly
but tenderly passed them over the side into the small boats which had
come off from the shore for them. Then, as each boat received its
complement, "Shove off" was the word; the bending oars churned the
water into miniature whirlpools, and with a dozen powerful strokes the
boat was sent half her length high and dry upon the shore. Then strong
arms once more raised the sufferers, and quickly bore them within the
wide- open portal of the hospitable "Anchor," where "mother" Salmon
waited to receive them.
"Eh, goodness sakes alive!" she exclaimed, as the first man appeared
within the flood of light which streamed from the "Anchor" windows.
"You, Sam; you don't mean to say as there's women amongst 'em."
"Ah! that there is, mother," panted Sam, "and children--poor little
helpless babbies, some on 'em, too."

The quick warm tears of womanly sympathy instantly flashed into the
worthy woman's eyes; but she was not one prone to much indulgence in
sentiment, particularly at a time like the present; so instead of lifting up
her hands and giving expression to her pity in words, she faced sharply
round upon the maids who were crowding forward, with the curiosity
of their sex, to catch a first glimpse of the strangers, and