The Coxswains Bride | Page 5

power and volume with the rising water, and that their vessel could not
survive another tide. Can we wonder that most of them again gave way
to despair--forgetting that with God "all things are possible?"
They were not yet forsaken, however. On the pier-head at Greyton their
signals had indeed been observed, but while the Brentley boat, owing
to its position, could run down to the wreck with all sail set, it was
impossible for that of Greyton to reach it, except by pulling slowly
against wind and tide.
The instant that Bob Massey saw the flare of the first tar-barrel he had
called out his men. One after another they came leaping over the
rocks--eager for the God-like work of saving life.
It is one of the grand characteristics of our lifeboatmen that on being
summoned to the fight there are often far more volunteers than are
required. Joe Slag, as in duty bound, was first to answer the call. Then
several of the younger men came running down. Last of all--almost too
late--Tom Riley appeared, buckling on his lifebelt as he ran. His gait
was not quite steady, and his face was flushed. The coxswain was quick
to note these facts.
"Take that lifebelt off!" he said, sternly, when Riley came up.
No need to ask why. The tippler knew the reason why only too well,
and he also knew that it was useless, as well as dangerous, to disobey
the coxswain. He took off the belt at once, flung it down, and staggered
away back to his grog-shop.
A powerful young fisherman--who had felt almost heart-broken by
being refused permission to go for want of room--gladly put on the belt
and took Riley's place. Another minute and they were out of the
harbour, battling with the billows and fighting their way inch by inch
against the howling blast. At last they got out so far that they could
hoist sail and run with a slant for the wreck.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 2.
It was daylight by the time the Greyton lifeboat arrived at the scene of
action, but the thick, spray-charged atmosphere was almost as bad to
see through as the blackness of night.
"I'm afeared she's gone," shouted Slag to the coxswain, putting his hand
to his mouth to prevent the words being blown bodily away.
"No--I see her bearing sou'-west," was the brief reply, as Bob Massey
plied his steering oar.
A few minutes later, and the despairing people on the wreck, catching
sight of the boat, greeted her with a long, wild cheer of reviving hope.
"What is it?" asked the widow, faintly, for she had been growing
gradually weaker from prolonged exposure.
"The lifeboat, darling," said her father. "Did I not say that He would not
forsake us?"
"Thank God!" murmured the poor woman, fervently. "Look up, Lizzie;
the lifeboat is coming to save us!"
The child, who had been comparatively warm and sheltered, at the
expense of her mother, looked up and smiled.
Soon the boat was alongside, and much the same scene that we have
already described was re-enacted; but there were no rebels this time. By
the captain's resolute bearing at first many lives had probably been
saved.
When most of the people had been lowered into the boat--not without
great risk and many bruises--the widow, who, cowering with her father
and child under the forecastle, had been overlooked, was led to the side
with her child.

"Not together, ma'am," said the captain. "You'd likely drop her. Let me
lower the child down first; or come first yourself--that will be better."
"Give Lizzie to me," said the grandfather. "I'll hold her till you are safe,
and ready to receive her."
"Look alive, ma'am," urged one of the lifeboat men, who had
scrambled on deck to render assistance.
The widow was soon in the boat, and held out her arms for little Lizzie.
Somehow--no one could tell how--the men made a bungle of it.
Perhaps the very fear of doing so was the cause. Instead of being
caught by the boatmen, Lizzie slipped between the boat and the vessel
into the boiling sea. Giving one agonised cry, the grandfather leaped
after her, but the surging boat swept in at the moment, and the old man
fortunately fell into that instead of the sea. He was not hurt, for strong
arms had been upraised to receive him. The little child rose above the
foam as she was whirled past the stern of the boat by a swift current.
Bob Massey saw her little out-stretched arms. There was no time for
thought or consideration. With one bound the coxswain was overboard.
Next moment the crew saw him far astern with the child in his arms.
"Get 'em all aboard first!" came back, even against the