CHAPTER XIV.

THE STRANDING OF THE "EIDER."

On the night of Sunday the 31st of January 1892, the North-German Lloyd liner _Eider_, bound from New York to Southampton, stranded on a reef of rocks off the Isle of Wight. A dense fog prevailed at the time, and a very rough sea was running. Signal rockets were immediately sent up, and about eleven o'clock the Atherfield lifeboat proceeded to her assistance. There was no immediate danger to the passengers and crew, so the captain decided to telegraph for steam tugs. The telegrams were accordingly handed into the lifeboat, and she returned to the shore to send them off.

At daylight next morning signals were made by the _Eider_, and the lifeboat again went out, and found that the captain wished to land some of the mails, and they were therefore brought ashore. Meanwhile news of the stranding of the steamer had been sent to the lifeboat stations at Brighstone Grange and Brooke, and these lifeboats at once put off and made for the scene of the disaster with all speed. The captain of the _Eider_ then decided that it would be best to land the passengers, and during the day the lifeboats made altogether eighteen trips to the ship, and safely landed two hundred and thirty-three passengers, besides specie and mails. Darkness, however, came on and put an end to the work.

The next day eleven journeys were performed by the lifeboats, and one hundred and forty-six people were brought to land without accident. During Wednesday and Thursday the boats were engaged in bringing ashore bars of silver, specie, the ship's plate, and passengers' luggage. Forty-one journeys in all were made by the gallant lifeboatmen, who worked hard and nobly, and rescued three hundred and seventy-nine persons. The captain and several of the crew remained on board, and the vessel was eventually towed off the rocks and safely berthed in Southampton docks.

In recognition of the devotion to duty and self-sacrifice shown by the lifeboatmen in the work of rescue, the Emperor of Germany presented each of the coxswains of the three lifeboats with a gold watch bearing His Majesty's portrait and initials. The institution also awarded the second-service clasp to the coxswain of the Atherfield lifeboat, the silver medal to the coxswain of the Brighstone Grange lifeboat, and the third-service clasp to the coxswain of the Brooke lifeboat.

We reproduce the following poem on the stranding of the _Eider_, by special permission, from _The Star_:--

The _Eider_ rode on the open sea With her safety in God's own hand For a thousand miles--ay, two, and three, With never a sight of land.

A shell of steel on the world of waves That severs the hemispheres, That covers the depths of a thousand graves And the wrecks of a hundred years.

She bore, unhurt, through the storm-god's din, Through shower, and shade, and sheen, With the death without and her lives within, And her inch of steel between.

From the port behind, to the port beyond, With never a help or guide, Save the needle's point and the chart he conned, The master has fought the tide.

On the bridge, in the Sunday twilight dim, He has taken his watchful stand; And he hears the sound of a German hymn, And the boom of a brazen band.

He looks for the lights of the royal isle, Ahead, to left, and to right; Below there is music and mirthful smile, For land must be soon in sight.

In sight? Not yet! for a fog creeps round And the night is doubly dark. "Slow speed! Hush! is it the fog-bell's sound, Or the shriek of the siren? Hark!"

The fog-bell clangs from its seaward tower, And the siren shrills in fear; But the vapours thicken from hour to hour, And the master cannot hear!

On the seaward headland, the beacon's blaze Like a midday sun would seem, But its warning rays are lost in the haze, And the master sees no gleam!

"How goes the line? There is time to save!" "It is ten fathom deep by the log." "We have not tarried for wind or wave, We cannot wait for the fog."

On, on! through the dark of a double night; On, on--to the lurking rock! No sound, no gleam of a saving light Till the _Eider_ leaps to the shock.

All night she bides where the sea death hides, And her passengers crowd her deck; While the leaping tides laugh over her sides And sink from the stranded wreck.

The _Eider_ has gold, she has human lives; But these can assist no more. Pray, pray, ye German children and wives, For help from the English shore!

A signal is sent, and a signal is seen, And a lifeboat--ay, two, and three, From the shore to the vessel their crews row between, And fight with the stormy sea.

They fight day and night, as true Englishmen can, 'Mid the roar of the storm-lash'd waves; And the _Eider's_ four hundred are saved to a man From the terror of sea-bed graves.

The _Eider_ bides, all broken and bent; With the tide she shivers and starts, And stands--for a time--as a monument Of the courage of English hearts.

But longer lasting, the memoried grace Of a noble deed and grand Will knit the hearts of the English race To the hearts of the Fatherland!