CHAPTER XX.

ON THE CORNISH COAST.

One stormy December day, a few years ago, a horse reeking with foam galloped into Penzance, bearing a messenger with news that a ship which had got into the bay was unable to make her way out, and would in all probability be wrecked. The news spread through the quaint old town like wildfire, and in a few minutes hundreds of people were on the shore anxiously watching for the ship. From time to time she could be seen through the mist, and it was evident that her captain and crew were making every effort to head her out to the open sea; but there was little chance of success with such a furious gale blowing directly inshore. Anchors were thrown out in the hope of averting the threatened disaster, but they were of no use, and soon the vessel was drifting helplessly to the shore. "Man the lifeboat! man the lifeboat!" was then the cry, and coastguards and fishermen rushed off to the boathouse at full speed.

There was not a moment to spare. Horses were brought out and harnessed to the carriage, the men took their places, and away went the horses at full speed. The boat was launched into the breakers with a hearty cheer, and headed straight for the wreck.

Meanwhile a terrible tragedy was being enacted between the wreck and the shore, some distance to the east. The captain had seen two shore boats put off to his assistance, and after battling bravely with the sea for some time give up the attempt. He did not see the lifeboat, and, thinking that the safety of himself and his crew depended on their own efforts, he ordered one of the ship's boats to be lowered. No sooner had it touched the water than it was dashed to pieces against the side of the ship. A second boat was got out of the davits, and the captain and nine men got into her in safety, and made for the shore. She had not gone far when a huge wave pounced down upon her, whirled her round, and in another moment the men were struggling in the water, about three hundred yards from the shore. A few sailors seized the keel of the upturned boat, but again and again they were dashed from their hold by the heavy breakers, others seized the oars, and the captain struck out for the shore, followed by a few of his men. On the beach the people were helpless; but, seeing the captain swimming towards them, some of the strongest men joined hands, and waded out into the sea to meet him. One brave man, famous for miles round on account of his great strength, threw off his coat, and, followed by several others, dashed into the surf, determined to rescue at least one of the perishing sailors. When he got hold of one man he handed him over to his companions to be taken ashore, and, in defiance of the enormous breakers, he stayed out until he had rescued three men from certain death. Nine men reached the shore, but only four of those, who, full of health and strength, had put off from the wreck half an hour before, survived.

Now let us return to the lifeboat. "After a pull of more than an hour she reached the vessel. As she was pulling under her stern, a great sea struck the boat, and immediately capsized her. All on board were at once thrown out; the noble boat, however, at once self-righted. The coxswain was jammed under the boat by some wreckage, and very nearly lost his life, having to dive three or four times before he could extricate himself. When dragged on board, he was apparently dead, and in this state was brought ashore. Another man, pulling the stroke oar, was lost altogether from the boat, and the men were all so exhausted that they could not pull up to rescue him; but his cork jacket floated him ashore, when a brave man, named Desreaux, swam his horse out through the surf and rescued him.

"The inspecting-commander of the coastguard, who expressed an earnest wish to go off on this occasion, was also on board, and with others suffered severely. It is due to him to say that his great coolness and judgment, as well as his exertions, greatly aided in bringing the boat and her exhausted crew to shore. The second coxswain also behaved like a hero, and, though scarcely able to stand, managed the boat with the greatest skill when the coxswain was disabled.

"Judge of the dismay of those on shore when they saw the boat returning without having effected a rescue. It was at once clear that some disaster had happened, and they rushed to meet her. There was the coxswain, apparently dead, a stream of blood trickling from a wound in his temple, one man missing, and all the crew more or less disabled. Volunteers were at once called for. The second coxswain pluckily offered to go again, but this was not allowed, and his place was taken by the chief officer of the coastguard. In a short time another crew was formed, and the boat put off.

"No words can describe the struggle which followed. The boat had to be pulled to windward in the teeth of a tremendous gale. Sometimes she would rise almost perpendicular to the waves, and the people on shore looked on with bated breath, fearing she must go over. The way was disputed inch by inch, and at last the victory was won. Long and loud rang the cheers as the boat neared the shore, and quickly the shipwrecked mariners and their brave rescuers were safe.

"It was afterwards found that one of the second crew had three ribs broken, and several of the others had wounds and bruises more or less severe. Happily, none of the injuries proved fatal, and before long all the men, even the coxswain, went about their work as usual. The wrecked vessel was the _North Britain_, with a cargo of timber on board from Quebec."