Shifting Winds | Page 9

o' Scotland, an' so, mayhap, they'll
understand a bit Toorko."
"Faix, av they don't understand Thoorko better nor the English
understand Scotch, it's little speed I'll come wi' them," said Dan with a
leer. "Howsomediver, I'll give 'em a trial. I say, Mr Red-beard, hubba
doorum bobble moti squorum howko joski tearum thaddi whak? Come,
now, avic, let's hear what ye've got to say to that. An' mind what ye
spake, 'cause we won't stand no blarney here."
Dan uttered this with immense volubility and assurance, and the
fishermen regarded him with deepening respect, as they awaited the
Russian's answer. He replied by a stare and a shake of the head as
before.
"Hookum daddy," resumed Dan, stooping to gaze earnestly into the
man's face, and placing the thumb of his right hand into the palm of his
left, by way of emphasising his remark, "Hookum daddy, saringo
spolli-jaker tooraloo be japers bang falairo--och!" he added, turning
away with a look of disgust, "he don't understand a word. I would try
him wi' Frinch, but it's clear as ditch wather that he's half drownded
still."
Convinced that Dan Horsey's "Toorko" was of no use, the fishermen at
length allowed him to retire.
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE RESCUE.
While this scene was enacting in the cottage, I was hasting up from the

beach, where the lifeboat men had rendered good service that night.
As the honorary agent for the Shipwrecked Mariners' Society, I had
been summoned by a special messenger as soon as it was known that
vessels were on the rocks off the entrance to our harbour. I was
accompanied by my niece, Lizzie Gordon, who always joined me on
such occasions, carrying with her a basket in which were a flask of
brandy, another of port wine, a bottle of smelling salts, and several
small articles which she fancied might be of use in cases of emergency.
We had called at the Sailors' Home in passing, to see that they were
astir there, and ready to receive shipwrecked people. We afterwards
remained on the beach, under the lee of a boathouse, while the lifeboat
men saved the crews of the wrecked vessels.
The work was nobly done! John Furby, the coxswain, with a sturdy
crew of volunteers--twelve in all--were ready for action, with cork
life-belts and oilskin coats on, when the team of four stout horses came
tearing along the sands dragging the lifeboat after them, assisted and
cheered on by a large crowd of men and boys. No unnecessary delay
occurred. Opposite the first wreck, the carriage was wheeled round, so
that the bow of the boat pointed to the sea. The crew sprang into their
seats, and, shipping the oars, sat ready and resolute.
Immense breakers thundered on the beach, and rushed inland in fields
of gurgling foam that looked like phosphoric light in the darkness. Into
this the carriage was thrust as far as it could be with safety by many
strong and willing hands. Then the men in the surf seized the launching
lines, by means of which the boat could be propelled off its carriage. A
peculiar adaptation of the mechanism enabled them, by pulling
backward, to force the boat forward. For a moment they stood inactive
as a towering wave rolled in like a great black scroll coming out of the
blacker background, where the sound of the raging storm could be
heard, but where nothing could be seen, save the pale red light which
proved that the wreck still held together.
The sea flew up, almost overwhelming the carriage. John Furby,
standing at his post by the steering oar, with the light of the small
boat-lamp shining up into his rugged face, gave the word in a clear,

strong voice.
"Hurrah!" shouted the men on shore, as they ran up the beach with the
ends of the launching ropes.
The boat sprang into the surf, the crew bent to their oars with all their
might, and kept pace with the rush of the retreating billow, while the
sea drew them out as if it were hungry to swallow them.
The lifeboat met the next breaker end-on; the men, pulling vigorously,
cleft it, and, passing beyond, gained the deep water and disappeared
from view.
The minutes that followed appeared like hours, but our patience was
not long tried. The boat soon re-appeared, coming in on the crest of a
towering wave, with six saved seamen in her. As she struck the beach
she was seized by the crowd on shore, and dragged out of danger by
main force.
Thus far all was well. But there was stern work still to be done. Having
ascertained that the vessel was a collier, and that none of her crew
were lost, I sent the six men with an escort