The Thorogood Family | Page 6

ashore with 'em yourself," cried our
hero.
"No. The three of us would be too heavy; send the steward. He's a light
man and brave," replied the captain.

The steward was ordered to jump on the buoy and cling to it, so as to
guard the little ones and prevent their being thrown out.
A signal having been again given with the lantern, the lifebuoy was
drawn swiftly to land. It was a terrible passage, for the brig had begun
to roll on her rocky bed, and at every roll the hawser and the lifebuoy
dipped into the sea, or were jerked violently out of it, while the risk of
being let drop on the black rocks that came grinning to the surface was
very great.
But all went well. The three were received on the rocks with cheers,
and conveyed up the cliffs to the Coastguard-house above, where warm
welcome and shelter awaited them. The cheers were not heard by those
in the wreck, but the re-appearance of the lifebuoy proved that the
children had been saved, and a deep "Thanks be to God!" burst from
their father's lips.
Still the captain refused to go, when urged. "No," he said, "let the men
go first."
So, one by one, the men were safely hauled on shore.
"Now, captain, it's your turn at last," said our hero, approaching him.
He still hesitated. Then the stout Coastguardsman absolutely lifted him
into the lifebuoy.
"No time for ceremony," he said, with a smile, giving the signal with
his lantern, "the brig's going fast. Tell 'em to look sharp on shore, for
I'm gettin' used up with all this work."
Away went the captain, and in a few minutes back came the lifebuoy.
Not a moment too soon. Blackbeard sprang in as the mizzen-mast
snapped with a report like a cannon, and went over the side. The next
wave broke up the wreck itself. Before the lifebuoy had gained the
shore it was plunged into the sea, out of which it no longer rose, the
support of the wreck being gone. The men on shore now hauled on the
rope with desperate energy, for a few minutes more would be sure to

settle the question of life or death. Through the surging breakers and
over the rugged rocks the lifebuoy was dragged, and a shout of relief
arose when the gallant Coastguardsman was seen clinging to it. But he
was insensible, and it was with difficulty that they loosened the grip of
his powerful hands.
Then they bore him up the cliffs and laid him in his own bed, and
looked anxiously upon his deadly white face as they covered him with
blankets, applied hot bottles to his feet, and chafed his cold, stiff limbs.
At last there came a fluttering sigh, and the eyelids gently opened.
"Where am I?" he asked faintly.
A young man having the appearance of a clergyman, laid his hand
gently on his shoulder.
"All right, Tom!" he said; "through the goodness of the Lord you're
saved, and fourteen souls along with you."
"Thank God!" said Tom Thorogood fervently, and, as he said so, the
tide of life once more coursed strongly through his veins, and brought
back the colour to his manly face.
CHAPTER FOUR.
The great city was sound asleep. It was the deadest hour of the night, if
we may apply that term to three o'clock in the morning, the hour at
which most people have sought and found their pillows. Late revellers
had ceased to shout and sing, early risers had yet a good hour of rest
before them, if not more. Of course there were many wakeful sick
folk-- ah! how many in that mighty hive called London! But these did
not disturb the profound quiet that had descended on the city: only a
few weak but steady lights in windows here and there told of their
existence.
Among the sleepless, on that calm dark night, there was one man to
whom we draw attention. His bronzed cheeks and tall muscular frame

told that he was not one of the wakeful sick, neither was he a sick-nurse,
to judge from things around him. He sat with his elbows on his knees
and his hands clasped, gazing into the fire and meditating--perhaps
building castles in the flames. His eyebrows were very bushy and his
looks stern, but there was a play of gentle, kindly feeling round his
mouth. He was one of a gallant band of picked men whose duty it is to
do battle with the flames, a member of the London Fire-brigade. Two
other men like himself lay on two little iron beds sound asleep with
their clothes on. There was this difference between them, however, that
the wakeful man wore brass epaulettes on his