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    Saved by the Lifeboat
    Saved by the Lifeboat
    Saved by the Lifeboat
    Ebook105 pages1 hour

    Saved by the Lifeboat

    By R.M. Ballantyne

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    (Excerpt): "On a dark November afternoon, not many years ago, Captain Boyns sat smoking his pipe in his own chimney-corner, gazing with a somewhat anxious expression at the fire. There was cause for anxiety, for there raged at the time one of the fiercest storms that ever blew on the shores of England. The wind was howling in the chimney with wild fury; slates and tiles were being swept off the roofs of the fishermen’s huts and whirled up into the air as if they had been chips of wood; and rain swept down and along the ground in great sheets of water, or whirled madly in the air and mingled with the salt spray that came direct from the English Channel; while, high and loud above all other sounds, rose the loud plunging roar of the mighty sea."
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOtbebookpublishing
    Release dateMay 9, 2019
    ISBN9783965372375
    Saved by the Lifeboat
    Author

    R.M. Ballantyne

    Robert Michael Ballantyne (24 April 1825 – 8 February 1894) was a Scottish author of juvenile fiction who wrote more than 100 books. He was also an accomplished artist, and exhibited some of his water-colours at the Royal Scottish Academy. (Wikipedia)

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      Book preview

      Saved by the Lifeboat - R.M. Ballantyne

      Lifeboat"

      Chapter One.

      The Wreck in the Bay.

      On a dark November afternoon, not many years ago, Captain Boyns sat smoking his pipe in his own chimney-corner, gazing with a somewhat anxious expression at the fire. There was cause for anxiety, for there raged at the time one of the fiercest storms that ever blew on the shores of England.

      The wind was howling in the chimney with wild fury; slates and tiles were being swept off the roofs of the fishermen’s huts and whirled up into the air as if they had been chips of wood; and rain swept down and along the ground in great sheets of water, or whirled madly in the air and mingled with the salt spray that came direct from the English Channel; while, high and loud above all other sounds, rose the loud plunging roar of the mighty sea.

      I fear there will be a call before long, Nancy, for the services of the new lifeboat, said Captain Boyns, rising and taking down an oilcloth coat and sou’-wester, which he began to put on leisurely; I’ll go down to the beach and see what’s doin’ at the Cove.

      The captain was a fine specimen of a British sailor. He was a massive man, of iron build, and so tall that his sou’-wester almost touched the ceiling of his low-roofed parlour. His face was eminently masculine, and his usual expression was a compound of sternness, gravity, and good-humour. He was about forty years of age, and, unlike the men of his class at that time, wore a short curly black beard and moustache, which, with his deeply bronzed countenance, gave him the aspect of a foreigner.

      God help those on the sea, said Mrs Boyns, in reply to her husband’s remark; I’m thankful, Dan, that you are on shore this night.

      Nancy was a good-looking, lady-like woman of thirty-three or thereabouts, without anything particularly noteworthy about her. She was busy with her needle at the time we introduce her, and relapsed into silence, while her stalwart husband pulled on a pair of huge sea-boots.

      Did you hear a gun, Nancy? cried the captain, as a terrific blast shook every timber in the cottage—there! ain’t that it again?

      Nancy listened intently, but could hear nothing save the raging of the storm. The captain completed his toilet, and was about to leave the room when the door suddenly burst open, and a lad of about fourteen years of age sprang in.

      Father, he cried, his eyes flashing with excitement, there’s a brig on the sands, and they are going to launch the new lifeboat!

      Whereaway is’t, lad? asked Boyns, as he buttoned up his coat.

      To lee’ard of the breakwater.

      Oh Harry, don’t be too venturesome, cried Mrs Boyns earnestly, as her strapping boy was about to follow his father out into the pelting storm.

      Harry, who was tall and strong for his age, and very like his father in many respects, turning round with a hearty smile, cried, No fear, mother, and next instant was gone.

      The scene on the beach when father and son reached it was very impressive. So furious was the gale that it tore up sand and gravel and hurled it against the faces of the hardy men who dared to brave the storm. At times there were blasts so terrible that a wild shriek, as if of a storm-fiend, rent the air, and flakes of foam were whirled madly about. But the most awful sight of all was the seething of the sea as it advanced in a succession of great breaking rollers into the bay, and churned itself white among the rocks.

      Out among these billows, scarce visible in the midst of the conflicting elements, were seen the dark hull, shattered masts, and riven sails of a large brig, over which the waves made clear breaches continually.

      In the little harbour of the seaport, which was named Covelly, a number of strong men were engaged in hastily launching a new lifeboat, which had been placed at that station only three weeks before, while, clustering about the pier, and behind every sheltered nook along the shore, were hundreds of excited spectators, not a few of whom were women.

      Much earnest talk had there been among the gossips in the town when the lifeboat referred to arrived. Deep, and nautically learned, were the discussions that had been held as to her capabilities, and great the longing for a stiffish gale in order that her powers might be fairly tested in rough weather, for in those days lifeboats were not so numerous as, happily, they now are. Many of the town’s-people had only heard of such boats; few had seen, and not one had ever had experience of them. After her arrival the weather had continued tantalisingly calm and fine until the day of the storm above referred to, when at length it changed, and a gale burst forth with such violence that the bravest men in the place shook their heads, and said that no boat of any kind whatever could live in such a sea.

      When, however, the brig before referred to was seen to rush helplessly into the bay and to strike on the sands where the seas ran most furiously, all lent a willing hand to launch the new lifeboat into the harbour, and a few men, leaping in, pulled her across to the stairs near the entrance, where a number of seamen were congregated, holding on under the lee of the parapet-wall, and gazing anxiously at the fearful scene outside.

      Impossible! said one; no boat could live in such a sea for half a minute.

      The moment she shows her nose outside the breakwater she’ll capsize, observed another.

      We’ll have to risk it, anyhow, remarked a stout young fellow, for I see men in the foreshrouds of the wreck, and I, for one, won’t stand by and see them lost while we’ve got a lifeboat by us. Why, wot’s the use o’ callin’ it a lifeboat if it can’t do more than other boats?

      As he spoke there came an unusually furious gust which sent a wave right over the pier, and well-nigh swept away one or two of them. The argument of the storm was more powerful than that of the young sailor—no one responded to his appeal, and when the boat came alongside the stairs, none moved to enter her except himself.

      That’s right, Bob Gaston, cried one of the four men who had jumped into the boat when she was launched, I know’d you would be the first.

      And I won’t be the last either, said young Gaston, looking back at the men on the pier with a smile.

      Right, lad! cried Captain Boyns, who came up at the instant and leaped into the boat. Come, lads, we want four more hands—no, no, Harry, he added, pushing back his son; your arms are not yet strong enough; come lads, we’ve no time to lose.

      As he spoke, a faint cry was heard coming from the wreck, and it was seen that one of the masts had gone by the board, carrying, it was feared, several poor fellows along with it. Instantly there was a rush to the lifeboat! All thought of personal danger appeared to have been banished from the minds of the fishermen when the cry of distress broke on their ears. The boat was overmanned, and old Jacobs, the coxswain, had to order several of them to go ashore again. In another minute they were at the mouth of the harbour, and

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