Battles with the Sea by Robert Michael Ballantyne (ereader android .txt) 📕

sent anonymously by "a friend." A hundred pounds comes in as a _second_ donation from "a sailor's daughter." Fifty pounds come from a British admiral, and five shillings from "the savings of a child!" One-and-sixpence is sent by another child in postage-stamps, and 1 pound 5 shillings as the collection of a Sunday school in Manchester; 15 pounds from three fellow-servants; 10 pounds from a shipwrecked pilot, and 10 shillings, 6 pence from an "old salt." I myself had once the pleasure of receiving twopence for the lifeboat cause from an exceedingly poor but enthusiastic old woman! But my most interesting experience in this way was the receipt of a note written by a blind boy--well and legibly written, too--telling me that he had raised the sum of 100 pounds for the Lifeboat Institution.

And this beneficial influence of our lifeboat service travels far beyond our own shores. Here is evidence of that. Finland sends 50 pounds to our Institution to testify its appreciation of the good done by us to its sailors. President Lincoln, of the United States, when involved in all the anxieties of the great war between North and South, found time to send 100 pounds to the Institution in acknowledgment of services rendered to American ships in distress. Russia and Holland send naval men to inspect--not our armaments and _materiel_ of hateful war, but-- our lifeboat management! France, in generous emulation, starts a Lifeboat Institution of its own, and sends over to ask our society to supply it with boats--and, last, but not least, it has been said that foreigners, driven far out of their course and stranded, soon come to know that they have been wrecked on the British coast, by the persevering efforts that are made to save their lives!

And now, good reader, let me urge this subject on your earnest consideration. Surely every one should be ready to lend a hand to _rescue the perishing_! One would think it almost superfluous to say more. So it would be, if there were none who required the line of duty and privilege to be pointed out to them. But I fear that many, especially dwellers in the interior of our land, are not sufficiently alive to the claims that the lifeboat has upon them.

Let me illustrate this by a case or two--imaginary cases, I admit, but none the less illustrative on that account.

"Mother," says a little boy, with flashing eyes and curly flaxen hair; "I want to go to sea!"

He has been reading "Cook's Voyages" and "Robinson Crusoe," and looks wistfully out upon the small pond in front of his home, which is the biggest "bit of water" his eyes have ever seen, for he dwells among the cornfields and pastures of the interior of the land.

"Don't think of it, darling Willie. You might get wrecked,--perhaps drowned."

But "darling Willie" does think of it, and asserts that being wrecked is the very thing he wants, and that he's willing to take his chance of being drowned! And Willie goes on thinking of it, year after year, until he gains his point, and becomes the family's "sailor boy," and mayhap, for the first time in her life, Willie's mother casts more than a passing glance at newspaper records of lifeboat work. But she does no more. She has not yet been awakened. "The people of the coast naturally look after the things of the coast," has been her sentiment on the subject--if she has had any definite sentiments about it at all.

On returning from his first voyage Willie's ship is wrecked. On a horrible night, in the howling tempest, with his flaxen curls tossed about, his hands convulsively clutching the shrouds of the topmast, and the hissing billows leaping up as if they wished to lick him off his refuge on the cross-trees, Willie awakens to the dread reality about which he had dreamed when reading Cook and Crusoe. Next morning a lady with livid face, and eyes glaring at a newspaper, gasps, "Willie's ship--is--wrecked! five lost--thirteen saved by the lifeboat." One faint gleam of hope! "Willie may be among the thirteen!" Minutes, that seem hours, of agony ensue; then a telegram arrives, "_Saved, Mother-- thank God,--by the lifeboat_."

"Ay, thank God," echoes Willie's mother, with the profoundest emotion and sincerity she ever felt; but think you, reader, that she did no more? Did she pass languidly over the records of lifeboat work after _that_ day? Did she leave the management and support of lifeboats to _the people of the coast_? I trow not. But what difference had the saving of Willie made in the lifeboat cause? Was hers the only Willie in the wide World? Are we to act on so selfish a principle, as that we shall decline to take an interest in an admittedly grand and good and national cause, until our eyes are forcibly opened by "our Willie" being in danger? Of course I address myself to people who have really kind and sympathetic hearts, but who, from one cause or another, have not yet had this subject earnestly submitted to their consideration. To those who have _no heart_ to consider the woes and necessities of suffering humanity, I have nothing whatever to say,--except,--God help them!

Let me enforce this plea--that _inland_ cities and towns and villages should support the Lifeboat Institution--with another imaginary case.

A tremendous gale is blowing from the south-east, sleet driving like needles--enough, almost, to put your eyes out. A "good ship," under close-reefed topsails, is bearing up for port after a prosperous voyage, but the air is so thick with drift that they cannot make out the guiding lights. She strikes and sticks fast on outlying sands, where the sea is roaring and leaping like a thousand fiends in the wintry blast. There are passengers on board from the Antipodes, with boxes and bags of gold-dust, the result of years of toil at the diggings. They do not realise the full significance of the catastrophe. No wonder--they are landsmen! The tide chances to be low at the time; as it rises, they awake to the dread reality. Billows burst over them like miniature Niagaras. The good ship which has for many weeks breasted the waves so gallantly, and seemed so solid and so strong, is treated like a cork, and becomes apparently an egg-shell!

Night comes--darkness increasing the awful aspect of the situation tenfold. What are boxes and bags of gold-dust now--now that wild despair has seized them all, excepting those who, through God's grace, have learned to "fear no evil?"

Suddenly, through darkness, spray, and hurly-burly thick, a ghostly boat is seen! The lifeboat! Well do the seamen know its form! A cheer arouses sinking hearts, and hope once more revives. The work of rescuing is vigorously, violently, almost fiercely begun. The merest child might see that the motto of the lifeboat-men is "Victory or death." But it cannot be done as quickly as they desire; the rolling of the wreck, the mad plunging and sheering of the boat, prevent that.

A sturdy middle-aged man named Brown--a common name, frequently associated with common sense--is having a rope fastened round his waist by one of the lifeboat crew named Jones--also a common name, not seldom associated with uncommon courage. But Brown must wait a few minutes while his wife is being lowered into the boat.

"Oh! be careful. Do it gently, there's a good fellow," roars Brown, in terrible anxiety, as he sees her swung off.

"Never fear, sir; she's all right," says Jones, with a quiet reassuring smile, for Jones is a tough old hand, accustomed to such scenes.

Mrs Brown misses the boat, and dips into the raging sea.

"Gone!" gasps Brown, struggling to free himself from Jones and leap after her, but the grasp of Jones is too much for him.

"Hold on, sir? _she's_ all right, sir, bless you; they'll have her on board in a minute."

"I've got bags, boxes, _bucketfuls_ of gold in the hold," roars Brown. "Only save her, and it's all yours!"

The shrieking blast will not allow even _his_ strong voice to reach the men in the lifeboat, but they need no such inducement to work.

"The gold won't be yours long," remarks Jones, with another smile. Neptune'll have it all to-night. See! they've got her into the boat all right, sir. Now don't struggle so; you'll get down to her in a minute. There's another lady to go before your turn comes.

During these few moments of forced inaction the self-possessed Jones remarks to Brown, in order to quiet him, that they'll be all saved in half an hour, and asks if he lives near that part of the coast.

"Live near it!" gasps Brown. "No! I live nowhere. Bin five years at the diggings. Made a fortune. Going to live with the old folk now--at Blunderton, far away from the sea; high up among the mountains."

"Hm!" grunts Jones. "Do they help to float the lifeboats at Blunderton?"

"The lifeboats? No, of course not; never think of lifeboats up there."

"Some of you think of 'em down _here_, though," remarks Jones. "Do _you_ help the cause in any way, sir?"

"Me? No. Never gave a shilling to it."

"Well, never mind. It's your turn now, sir. Come along. We'll save you. Jump!" cries Jones.

And they do save him, and all on board of that ill-fated ship, with as much heartfelt satisfaction as if the rescued ones had each been a contributor of a thousand a year to the lifeboat cause.

"Don't forget us, sir, when you gits home," whispers Jones to Brown at parting.

And _does_ Brown forget him? Nay, verily! He goes home to Blunderton, stirs up the people, hires the town-hall, gets the chief magistrate to take the chair, and forms a _Branch_ of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution--the Blunderton Branch, which, ever afterwards, honourably bears its annual share in the expense, and in the privilege, of rescuing men, women, and little ones from the raging seas. Moreover, Brown becomes the enthusiastic secretary of the Branch. And here let me remark that no society of this nature can hope to succeed, unless its secretary be an enthusiast.

Now, reader, if you think I have made out a good case, let me entreat you to go, with Brown in your eye, "and do likewise."

And don't fancy that I am advising you to attempt the impossible. The supposed Blunderton case is founded on fact. During a lecturing tour one man--somewhat enthusiastic in the lifeboat cause--preached the propriety of inland towns starting Branches of the Lifeboat Institution. Upwards of half a dozen such towns responded to the exhortation, and, from that date, have continued to be annual contributors and sympathisers.


CHAPTER SEVEN.


THE LIFE-SAVING ROCKET.

We shall now turn from the lifeboat to our other great engine of war with which we do battle with the sea from year to year, namely, the Rocket Apparatus.

This engine, however, is in the hands of Government, and is managed by the coastguard. And it may be remarked here, in reference to coastguard men, that they render constant and effective aid in the saving of shipwrecked crews. At least one-third of the medals awarded by the Lifeboat Institution go