CHAPTER XV.

THE WRECK OF THE "NORTHERN BELLE."

During a dreadful storm which swept over the British Isles several years ago, the American ship _Northern Belle_, from New York to London, came to anchor off Kingsgate, near Broadstairs, about a mile from the shore. The sea made great breaches over her, and, in order to lighten the vessel and help her to ride out the storm, the crew cut away two of the masts. With the flood-tide, however, the gale increased, and it was feared that the vessel would drag her anchors and come ashore. A swift-footed messenger was accordingly despatched to summon the Broadstairs lifeboat.

Without delay the crew were mustered, and the boat, on her carriage, was dragged overland to Kingsgate, a distance of two miles. It was nine o'clock when the _Mary White_ arrived, and by that time the cliffs were lined with crowds of people. Shortly afterwards two luggers were seen bearing down upon the unfortunate vessel. One of these crafts, when trying to take out one of the ship's anchors, was overwhelmed by a heavy sea, and sank. Not one of her crew of nine men were ever seen again. The other was more successful, and five of her crew managed to get on board the _Northern Belle_. Every moment the multitude of spectators expected to see the vessel run ashore and be dashed to pieces on the rocks at the foot of the cliff; but as the day wore on and the anchors still held, it was thought that she would yet be safe. Heedless of the heavy snow and bitter cold, the people watched her till darkness came on and shut out the vessel from their gaze.

About midnight, the long-expected catastrophe took place, the cable broke and the vessel was driven on the rocks. In the storm and darkness it would have been worse than useless to launch the lifeboat, so the men were reluctantly compelled to put off the rescue till a new day should give them sufficient light to see what they were doing. Next morning, about seven o'clock, the remains of the ill-fated ship could be seen, and lashed to the only remaining mast were the figures of twenty-three perishing sailors. What they must have suffered in the cold and darkness of that terrible night may be imagined, but it cannot be described.

The lifeboat was dragged down to the water's edge, and the crew got into their places. The coxswain stood up in the stern, grasping the yoke lines, and watching for a favourable moment to put off. The faces of the men were grave, for they knew the terrific struggle that was before them, and, with such a high sea running, who knew if they would come back again? The coxswain gave the word, and the boat was pushed off into the raging surf. The boatmen bent their backs and made headway in spite of the storm. Over and over again they were lost to sight, and those on shore were filled with fear for their safety, but the good boat breasted each wave gallantly, and quickly drew near to the wreck.

Great difficulty was experienced in getting alongside, and in the struggle the bow of the lifeboat was badly damaged, but at last the boat was made fast. The poor sailors were so benumbed by their long exposure to cold that they were almost helpless, and this made the task of the boatmen still more difficult. At length, after tremendous exertions, they succeeded in taking off seven of the crew. On account of the broken condition of the boat and the high sea, it was not judged prudent to take more, so she was cut adrift from the wreck and returned to the shore with her precious burden.

Fearing that an accident might happen to the _Mary White_ and disable her for further service, a second lifeboat had been brought over from Broadstairs. She was now launched, and made for the wreck, from which she shortly afterwards returned with fourteen men. Only two sailors now remained on board, the aged captain and the pilot. The former stubbornly refused to leave his ship, declaring that he would rather be drowned; and the latter said that he was not going to leave the old man to perish by himself.

The coxswain allowed two hours to pass, expecting that the captain would change his mind and signal for them to come and take him off; but when he showed no signs of yielding, he called the men together and launched the lifeboat. After a stiff pull they reached the wreck, and tried to persuade the captain to save himself, but he remained obstinate. Then the men declared that they would remain by the wreck as long as she held together, even if they waited a week. The coxswain pointed out to the captain that he was not only throwing his own life away for no good reason, but that he was also endangering the lives of those in the boat, and he told him that it was his duty to save himself. At length he was persuaded of the folly of his action, and came down from the rigging. The pilot, whose chivalrous feelings alone had kept him in this perilous position, also gladly entered the saving boat.

Great were the rejoicings on the beach when it became known that the whole crew had now been rescued. The shipwrecked men were taken to a house near at hand, but they were so exhausted that they were unable to eat.

Shortly afterwards three horses were harnessed to the transporting carriage of the _Mary White_, and she was taken back to Broadstairs. As she approached the town, the people came out to meet her, and with cheers loud and long welcomed the heroes home.

An eye-witness of the rescue says: "The lifeboatmen were not labouring under any species of excitement when they engaged in the perilous duty, which they performed so nobly and so well. Under the impression that these men would never return,--the impression of all who witnessed their departure from the shore,--I watched their countenances closely. There was nothing approaching bravado in their looks, nothing to give a spectator any idea that they were about to engage in a matter of life or death, to themselves and the crew of the ship clinging to the fore-rigging of the _Northern Belle_. They had no hope of a decoration or of a pecuniary reward when, with a coolness of manner and a calmness of mind which contrasted strongly with the energy of their movements, they bounded into the lifeboat to storm batteries of billows far more appalling to the human mind than batteries surmounted by cannon and bristling with bayonets. There could be no question about the heroism of these men."