Oh! it was a terrible thing for the thousands on land to stand so close to those drowning men and women without the power of stretching out a hand to save! No one could get near them, although they were so near.
They were tossed like straws on the raging surf. Now hurled on the crest of a wave, now sucked into the hollow beneath, and overwhelmed again and again. The frail ones of the hapless crew soon perished. The strong men struggled on with desperate energy to reach the sh.o.r.e. Three of them seized the keel of the boat, but three times were they driven from their hold by the force of the seas. Two or three caught at the floating oars, but most of them were soon carried away by the under-current. The captain, however, with five or six of the men, still struggled powerfully for life, and succeeded in swimming close to the beach.
Up to this point there was one of the spectators who had stood behind the shelter of a bush, surveying, with sorrowful countenance, the tragic scene. He was a short, but fine-looking and very athletic man--a champion Cornish wrestler, named William Jeff. He was a first-rate boatman, and a bold swimmer. Fortunately he also possessed a generous, daring heart. When this man saw Captain Phelps near the sh.o.r.e, he sprang forward, dashed into the surf, at the imminent risk of his life, and caught the captain by the hair. The retreating water well-nigh swept the brave rescuer away, but other men of the town, fearless like himself, leaped forward, joined hands, caught hold of Jeff, and hauled him safe ash.o.r.e along with the captain, who was carried away in a state of insensibility. Again and again, at the risk of his life, did the champion wrestler wrestle with the waves and conquer them! Aided by his daring comrades he dragged three others from the jaws of death. Of those who entered the jolly-boat of the _Swordfish_, only five reached the land. These were all sailors, and one of them, Captain Phelps, was so much exhausted by his exertions that, notwithstanding all that cordials, rubbing, and medical skill could effect, he sank in a few minutes, and died.
But while this was occurring on the beach, another scene of disaster was taking place at the wreck. The lifeboat, after a severe pull of more than an hour, reached the vessel. As she was pa.s.sing under her stern a great sea struck the boat and immediately capsized her. All on board were at once thrown out. The boat was, however, one of those self-righting crafts, which had just at that time been introduced. She immediately righted, emptied herself, and the crew climbed into her by means of the life-lines festooned round her sides; but the brave c.o.xswain was jammed under her by some wreck, and nearly lost his life-- having to dive three or four times before he could extricate himself.
When at last dragged into the boat by his comrades he was apparently dead. It was then discovered that the man who had pulled the stroke oar had been swept overboard and carried away. His companions believed him to be lost, but he had on one of the cork life-belts of the Lifeboat Inst.i.tution, and was by it floated to the sh.o.r.e, where a brave fellow swam his horse out through the surf and rescued him.
Meanwhile, the lifeboat men were so much injured and exhausted that they were utterly incapable of making any attempt to rescue those who remained of the crew of the _Swordfish_. It was as much as they could do to guide the boat again towards the sh.o.r.e, steered by the second c.o.xswain, who, although scarcely able to stand, performed his duty with consummate skill.
Nothing of all this could be seen by the thousands on sh.o.r.e, owing to the spray which thickened the atmosphere, and the distance of the wreck.
But when the lifeboat came in sight they soon perceived that something was wrong, and when she drew near they rushed to meet her. Dismay filled every breast when they saw the c.o.xswain carried out apparently dead, with a stream of blood trickling from a wound in his temple, and learned from the worn-out and disabled crew that no rescue had been effected. Immediately the local secretary before mentioned, who had been all this time caring for those already rescued, and preparing for those expected, called for a volunteer crew, and the second c.o.xswain at once shouted, "I"ll go again, sir!" This man"s bravery produced a wonderful moral effect. He was not permitted to go, being already too much exhausted, but his example caused volunteers to come forward promptly. Among them were men of the coastguard, a body to which the country is deeply indebted for annually saving many lives. Several gentlemen of the town also volunteered. With the new crew, and the chief officer of the coastguard at the helm, the n.o.ble boat was launched a second time.
The struggle which followed was tremendous, for they had to pull direct to windward in the teeth of wind and sea. Sometimes the boat would rise almost perpendicularly to the waves, and the spectators gazed with bated breath, fearing that she must turn over; then she would gain a yard or two, and again be checked. Thus, inch by inch, they advanced until the wreck was reached, and the sailors were successfully taken off. But this was not accomplished without damage to the rescuers, one of whom had three ribs broken, while others were more or less injured.
Soon the boat was seen making once more for the beach. On she came on the wings of the wind. As she drew near, the people crowded towards her as far as the angry sea would permit.
"How many saved?" was the anxious question.
As the boat rushed forward, high on the crest of a tumultuous billow, the bowman stood up and shouted, "Nine saved!" and in another moment, amid the ringing cheers of the vast mult.i.tude, the lifeboat leaped upon the sand with the rescued men!
"Nine saved!" A pleasant piece of news that was to be read next day in the papers by those who contributed to place that lifeboat on the coast; for nine souls saved implies many more souls gladdened and filled with unutterable grat.i.tude to Almighty G.o.d.
But "Twenty lost!" A dismal piece of news this to those at whose door the murders will lie till the day of doom. Even John Webster, Esquire, grew pale when he heard of it, and his hard heart beat harder than usual against his iron ribs as he sat in the habitation of his soul and gazed at his deceased wife"s father over the chimney-piece, until he almost thought the canvas image frowned upon him.
There was more, however, behind these twenty lost lives than Mr Webster dreamed of. The links in the chains of Providence are curiously intermingled, and it is impossible to say, when one of them gives way, which, or how many, will fall along with it, as the next chapter will show.
CHAPTER FIVE.
THINGS BECOME SHAKY, SO DOES MR WEBSTER, AND THE RESULTS ARE AN ILLNESS AND A VOYAGE.
The old Indian officer who was drowned, as we have seen, in the wreck of the _Swordfish_, was in no way connected with Mr John Webster. In fact, the latter gentleman read his name in the list of those lost with feelings of comparative indifference. He was "very sorry indeed," as he himself expressed it, that so many human beings had been swept off the stage of time by that "unfortunate wreck," but it did not add to his sorrow that an old gentleman, whom he had never seen or heard of before, was numbered with the drowned. Had he foreseen the influence that the death of that old officer was to have on his own fortunes, he might have looked a little more anxiously at the announcement of it. But Colonel Green--that was his name--was nothing to John Webster. What mattered his death or life to him? He was, no doubt, a rich old fellow, who had lived in the East Indies when things were conducted in a rather loose style, and when unscrupulous men in power had opportunities of feathering their nests well; but even although that was true it mattered not, for all Colonel Green"s fortune, if thrown into the pile or taken from it, would scarcely have made an appreciable difference in the wealth of the great firm of Webster and Company. Not that "Company" had anything to do with it, for there was no Company. There had been one once, but he had long ago pa.s.sed into the realms where gold has no value.
There was, however, a very large and important firm in Liverpool which was deeply interested in the life of Colonel Green, for he had long been a sleeping partner of the firm, and had, during a course of years, become so deeply indebted to it that the other partners were beginning to feel uneasy about him. Messrs. Wentworth and Hodge would have given a good deal to have got rid of their sleeping partner, but Colonel Green cared not a straw for Wentworth, nor a fig for Hodge, so he went on in his own way until the _Swordfish_ was wrecked, when he went the way of all flesh, and Wentworth and Hodge discovered that, whatever riches he, Colonel Green, might at one time have possessed, he left nothing behind him except a number of heavy debts.
This was serious, because the firm had been rather infirm for some years past, and the consequences of the colonel"s death were, that it became still more shaky, and finally came down. Now, it is a well understood fact that men cannot fall alone. You cannot remove a small prop from a large old tree without running the risk of causing the old tree to fall and carry a few of the neighbouring trees, with a host of branches, creeping plants, and parasites, along with it. Especially is this the case in the mercantile world. The death of Colonel Green was a calamity only to a few tradesmen, but the fall of Wentworth and Company was a much more serious matter, because that firm was an important prop to the much greater firm of Dalgetty and Son, which immediately shook in its shoes, and also went down, spreading ruin and consternation in the city.
Now, it happened that Dalgetty and Son had extensive dealings with Webster and Company, and their fall involved the latter so deeply, that, despite their great wealth, their idolatrous head was compelled to puzzle his brain considerably in order to see his way out of his difficulties.
But the more he looked, the less he saw of a favourable nature. Some of his evil practices also had of late begun to shed their legitimate fruit on John Webster, and to teach him something of the meaning of those words, "Be sure your sins shall find you out." This complicated matters considerably. He consulted his cash-books, bank-books, bill-books, sales-books, order-books, ledgers, etcetera, etcetera, again and again, for hours at a time, without arriving at any satisfactory result. He went to his diminutive office early in the morning, and sat there late at night; and did not, by so doing, improve his finances a whit, although he succeeded in materially injuring his health. He worried the life of poor meek Grinder to such an extent that that unfortunate man went home one night and told his wife he meant to commit suicide, begged her to go out and purchase a quart of laudanum for that purpose at the fishmonger"s, and was not finally induced to give up, or at least to delay, his rash purpose, until he had swallowed a tumbler of mulled port wine and gone to sleep with a bottle of hot water at his feet! In short, Mr Webster did all that it was possible for a man to do in order to retrieve his fortunes--all except pray, and commit his affairs into the hands of his Maker; _that_ he held to be utterly ridiculous. To make use of G.o.d"s winds, and waves, and natural laws, and the physical and mental powers which had been given him, for the furtherance of his designs, was quite natural, he said; but to make use of G.o.d"s word and His promises--tut! tut! he said, that was foolishness.
However that may be, the end was, that Webster and Company became very shaky. They did not, indeed, go into the _Gazette_, but they got into very deep water; and the princ.i.p.al, ere long, having overwrought all his powers, was stricken with a raging fever.
It was then that John Webster found his G.o.d to be anything but a comforter, for it sat upon him like a nightmare; and poor Annie, who, a.s.sisted by Mrs Niven, was his constant and devoted nurse, was horrified by the terrible forms in which the golden idol a.s.sailed him.
That fever became to him the philosopher"s stone. Everything was trans.m.u.ted by it into gold. The counting of guineas was the poor man"s sole occupation from morning till night, and the numbers to which he attained were sometimes quite bewildering; but he invariably lost the thread at a certain point, and, with a weary sigh, began over again at the beginning. The bed curtains became golden tissue, the quilt golden filigree, the posts golden masts and yards and bowsprits, which now receded from him to immeasurable distance, and anon advanced, until he cried out and put up his hands to shield his face from harm; but, whether they advanced or retired, they invariably ended by being wrecked, and he was left in the raging sea surrounded by drowning men, with whom he grappled and fought like a demon, insomuch that it was found necessary at one time to have a strong man in an adjoining room, to be ready to come in when summoned, and hold him down. Gold, gold, gold was the subject of his thoughts--the theme of his ravings--at that time. He must have read, at some period of his life, and been much impressed by, Hood"s celebrated poem on that subject, for he was constantly quoting sc.r.a.ps of it.
"Why don"t you help me?" he would cry at times, turning fiercely to his daughter. "How can I remember it if I am not helped? I have counted it all up--one, two, three, on to millions, and billions, and trillions of gold, gold, gold, hammered and rolled, bought and sold, scattered and doled--there, I"ve lost it again! You are constantly setting me wrong.
All the things about me are gold, and the very food you gave me yesterday was gold. Oh! how sick I am of this gold! Why don"t you take it away from me?"
And then he would fall into some other train of thought, in which his G.o.d, as before, would take the reins and drive him on, ever in the same direction.
At last the crisis of the disease came and pa.s.sed, and John Webster began slowly to recover. And it was now that he formed a somewhat true estimate of the marketable value of his daughter Annie, inasmuch as he came at length to the conclusion that she was priceless, and that he would not agree to sell her for any sum that could be named!
During this period of convalescence, Annie"s patience, gentleness, and powers of endurance were severely tried, and not found wanting. The result was that the conscience of the invalid began to awake and smite him; then his heart began to melt, and, ere long, became knit to that of his child, while she sought to relieve his pains and cheer his spirits she chatted, played, sang, and read to him. Among other books she read the Bible. At first Mr Webster objected to this, on the ground that he did not care for it; but, seeing that Annie was much pained by his refusal, he consented to permit her to read a few verses to him daily.
He always listened to them with his eyes shut, but never by look or comment gave the least sign that they made any impression on him.
During the whole period of Mr Webster"s illness and convalescence, Captain Harry Boyns found it convenient to have much business to transact in Liverpool, and he was extremely regular in his calls to inquire after the health of his late employer. This was very kind of him, considering the way in which he had been treated! Sometimes on these visits he saw Annie, sometimes he saw Mrs Niven--according as the one or other chanced to be on duty at the time; but, although he was never permitted to do more than exchange a few sentences with either of them, the most careless observer could have told, on each occasion, which he had seen, for he always left the door with a lengthened face and slow step when he had seen Mrs Niven: but ran down the steps with a flushed countenance and sparkling eyes when he had met with Annie!
At last Mr Webster was so much restored that his doctor gave him leave to pay a short visit to his counting-room in the city.
How strangely Mr Webster felt, after his long absence, when he entered once more the temple of his G.o.d, and sat down in his old chair.
Everything looked so familiar, yet so strange! There were, indeed, the old objects, but not the old arrangements, for advantage had been taken of his absence to have the office "thoroughly cleaned!" There was the same air of quiet, too, and seclusion; but the smells were not so musty as they used to be, and there was something terribly unbusinesslike in the locked desk and the shut books and the utter absence of papers. The portrait of his deceased wife"s father was there, however, as grim, silent, and steadfast in its gaze as ever, so Mr Webster smiled, nodded to it, and rang a hand-bell for his confidential clerk, who entered instantly, having been stationed at the back of the door for full ten minutes in expectation of the summons.
"Good morning, Mr Grinder. I have been ill, you see. Glad to get back, however. How has business been going on in my absence? The doctor forbade my making any inquiries while I was ill, so that I have been rather anxious."
"Yes, sir, I am aware--I--in fact I was anxious to see you several times on business, but could not gain admittance."
"H"m! not going on so well as might be desired, I suppose," said Mr Webster.
"Well, not quite; in short, I might even say things are much worse than they were before you took ill, sir; but if a confidential agent were sent to Jamaica to--to--that is, if Messrs. Bright and Early were seen by yourself, sir, and some arrangement made, we might--might--go on for some time longer, and if trade revives, I think--"
"So bad as that!" exclaimed Mr Webster, musing. "Well, well, Grinder, we must do our best to pull through. Are any of our vessels getting ready for sea just now?"
"Yes, sir, the _Ocean Queen_ sails for Jamaica about the end of this month."
"Very well, Grinder, I will go in her. She is one of our best ships, I think. The doctor said something about a short voyage to recruit me, so that"s settled. Bring me writing materials, and send a statement of affairs home to me to-night. I have not yet strength to go into details here."
Grinder brought the writing materials and retired. His employer wrote several letters; among them one to the doctor, apprising him of his intention to go to Jamaica, and another to the captain of the _Ocean Queen_, giving him the same information, and directing him to fit up the two best berths in the cabin for the reception of himself and his daughter, with a berth for an old female servant.
Three weeks thereafter he went on board with Annie and Mrs Niven, and the _Ocean Queen_, spreading her sails, was soon far out upon the broad bosom of the restless Atlantic.
CHAPTER SIX.
DESCRIBES THE PRESENTATION OF A NEW LIFEBOAT TO COVELLY, AND TREATS OF THE ROYAL NATIONAL LIFEBOAT INSt.i.tUTION.
We must now change the scene, and beg our readers to accompany us once more to Covelly, where, not long after the events narrated in the last chapter, an interesting ceremony was performed, which called out the inhabitants in vast numbers. This was the presentation of a new lifeboat to the town, and the rewarding of several men who had recently been instrumental in saving life in circ.u.mstances of peculiar danger.
The weather was propitious. A bright sun and a calm sea rejoiced the eyes of the hundreds who had turned out to witness the launch. The old boat, which had saved our heroine years before, and had rescued many more since that day from the angry sea, was worn out, and had to be replaced by one of the magnificent new boats built on the self-righting principle, which had but recently been adopted by the Lifeboat Inst.i.tution. A lady of the neighbourhood, whose only daughter had been saved by the old boat some time before, had presented the purchase-money of the new one (400 pounds) to the Inst.i.tution; and, with the prompt.i.tude which characterises all the movements of that Society, a fine self-righting lifeboat, with all the latest improvements, had been sent at once to the port.
High on her carriage, in the centre of the town, the new lifeboat stood--gay and brilliant in her blue and white paint, the crew with their cork lifebelts on, and a bra.s.s band in front, ready to herald her progress to the sh.o.r.e. The mayor of the town, with all the princ.i.p.al men, headed the procession, and a vast concourse of people followed. At the sh.o.r.e the boat was named the _Rescue_ by the young lady whose life had been saved by the old one, and amid the acclamations of the vast mult.i.tude, the n.o.ble craft was shot off her carriage into the calm sea, where she was rowed about for a considerable time, and very critically examined by her crew; for, although the whole affair was holiday-work to most of those who looked on, the character of the new boat was a matter of serious import to those who manned her, and who might be called on to risk their lives in her every time their sh.o.r.es should be lashed by a stormy sea.
Our hero, Harry Boyns, held the steering oar. He had been appointed by the parent Inst.i.tution to the position of "Local Secretary of the Covelly Lifeboat Branch," and, of course, was anxious to know the qualities of his vessel.
Harry, we may remark in pa.s.sing, having lost his situation, and finding that his mother"s health was failing, had made up his mind to stay on sh.o.r.e for a year or two, and seek employment in his native town. Being a well-educated man, he obtained this in the office of a mercantile house, one of the partners of which was related to his mother.
The rowing powers of the new boat were soon tested. Then Harry steered to the pier, where a tackle had been prepared for the purpose of upsetting her. This was an interesting point in the proceedings, because few there had seen a self-righting boat, and, as usual, there was a large sprinkling in the crowd of that cla.s.s of human beings who maintain the plausible, but false, doctrine, that "seeing is believing!"