Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Thorogood Family by R. M. Ballantyne (most recommended books txt) 📖
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «The Thorogood Family by R. M. Ballantyne (most recommended books txt) 📖». Author R. M. Ballantyne
While the boat was yet on its carriage, her stout coxswain, or captain, clambered in.
“Now then, my jolly volunteers,” he shouted, “jump up, and on wi’ your life-belts.”
At that word our handsome young sailor laid his hands on the edge of the boat and vaulted into her as if he had been made of india-rubber. Ten more men followed his example, and quickly put on their belts.
“Nobody’s allowed to go off without a life-belt,” said the coxswain to the young sailor, “besides, it’s against rules to let you go.”
“How’s that?” asked the youth; “you called for volunteers.”
“Yes, but our volunteer-crew is already made up, so you must jump out. Thank you all the same, my fine fellow.”
The man-of-war’s man was too well disciplined to think of resistance, even for a moment. With a look of disappointment and an active bound, he leaped out upon the sand.
At that moment one of the men raised an oar, which was blown round by a sudden blast, and its end struck another of the crew on the temple, rendering him almost insensible. He had to be put out at once, and another volunteer was called for. Like a flash of light, our youthful seaman again vaulted into the boat. His services were now accepted, and a cork life-belt was given to him, which he quickly put on.
Meanwhile crowds of men, and even some women and boys, stood ready at the launching-ropes. The word was given. There was a strong and a long pull altogether, and the lifeboat sprang into the sea as if it had been alive, with her crew seated and the oars out. A huge wave caught her bow and raised her up almost perpendicular. She seemed as if about to dance a reel upon her rudder. Our man-of-war’s man had rode in many a wild sea, but never before had he seen the like of that. Nevertheless, he clung to his seat like a limpet, and pulled at his oar with all his might. The others were more accustomed to that special work. Just as she seemed about to topple over, the boat dropped forward and plunged out to sea. The next wave caught her in the same way, but with less power. Another stroke of the short, stout oars, and they had got fairly off into deep water.
Then did the heart of the young sailor beat wildly, for, besides rejoicing in that fierce struggle with the storm, he knew that his mission was one of mercy as well as danger. But how much more wildly did his heart beat when he reached the wreck, and, by the light of the blazing tar-barrel, beheld about twenty human beings—some of them women and children—clinging to the wreck, which was buried in foaming water by every sea.
One by one they were got into the lifeboat with great difficulty. Then the boat was pushed off and rowed towards the land. What a deep-toned shout there was on shore when her light form was dimly seen coming in on the crest of a great billow! And what a mighty cheer rang out when she drew closer, and the man at the bow-oar stood up and cried, “Thank God, all saved!”
Just then a monster wave fell on the stern of the boat and filled it. One little girl was swept overboard and went away with the backward rush of water, as the boat was hauled out of danger. Every one saw this, and a terrible cry went up, but only one man moved. Our young sailor sprang after the child. He knew that it was almost certain death to enter that surf without a rope, but a spirit of self-sacrifice—founded on the great example of Jesus—urged him on. He had no time to think—only to act. He caught the child and was dragged along with her into the wild sea. At that moment another Coastguardsman, who chanced to be a friend of the man-of-war’s man, came upon the scene. Seeing what had occurred, he seized the end of a rope which some men had just brought down, tied it round his waist, dashed into the sea, caught the sailor and the girl in the wide grasp of his strong arms—and then all three were hauled to the land in safety.
The poor child was nearly insensible, and had to be carried to a neighbouring cottage; and the young sailor staggered so from exhaustion that his friend and another man were obliged to support him as he went.
“Who is he?” inquired one of the fisherwomen, as she followed behind.
The Coastguardsman looked over his shoulder with a proud glance in his sparkling eye, and said aloud, “His name is Richard Thorogood.”
A statement which was received with three loud and ringing cheers.
But what of the wreck under the Sunland cliffs, which had sent up rocket-signals of distress on that same dismal night?
When our Coastguardsman with the black beard reached the scene, he found, as he had expected, that his comrades of the Coastguard had not been idle. They had brought down the famous rocket apparatus, with which so many lives are saved every year on our stormy shores.
The wreck was in a very different position from that in the bay. Instead of being far away from shore, among rolling billows that raged over the flat sands, this vessel, a brig, lay hard and fast among the rocks, not a hundred yards from the foot of the cliffs. Against these frowning cliffs the wild waves thundered as if they wished to beat them down. Failing in that, they fell back and seemed to go mad with disappointment; leaping, hissing, and whirling among the rocks on which the brig had been cast. The brig was so near, that the men on shore could see the forms of her crew as they clung to the rigging, frantically waving their arms and sending up shrieks of despair and loud cries for help. Truly there was urgent need for help, for the sea broke over the vessel so furiously that it was evident she must soon go to pieces.
There was only one little spot of partial shelter at the foot of the cliffs where man could stand on that fearful night. Here the men of the Coastguard had set up the rocket apparatus. The rocket was in position, and about to be fired, when our black-bearded Coastguardsman arrived. The light was applied. Suddenly the group of spray-washed men, and a few pale-faced spectators who had ventured to descend, and part of the overhanging cliffs, burst into intense light as the great rocket went out to sea with a wild roar. It was like a horrid fiery serpent, and carried a line tied to its tail! It plunged into the waves, and all was dark again, but there was no cheer from the wreck. The aim had not been good, and the rocket-line had missed its mark.
“Fetch another! look alive!” shouted our black-bearded friend, as he seized, set up, and aimed a second rocket.
Again the light burst forth, and the rocket sprang out in the teeth of the gale. It fell beyond the brig, and the line caught in the rigging! The wrecked crew seemed to understand what was required of them, for they immediately began to haul on the rocket-line. To the shore-end of it was fastened, by the men on the rocks, a block or pulley with a double or endless line, called a “whip,” through it. When the men in the brig had hauled this block on board they fastened it to the stump of the main mast. Then the rescuers on shore tied a thick cable or hawser to their double line and ran it out to the wreck, but when this thick rope reached the crew, they did not seem to know what to do with it, for it was not hauled upon, but continued to hang loose.
“They must be foreigners, and don’t know what to do next,” said one.
“P’rhaps they’ve got too cold to work it,” said another. “I wish we had a little more light to see what they’re about.”
“We can’t afford to wait,” cried our friend Blackbeard, quickly throwing off his upper garments; “run me out, lads, on the whip. There won’t be much risk if you’re quick.”
“Risk!” exclaimed one of his comrades; “it will be certain death!”
But the daring Coastguardsman had already seized the thin line and plunged into the boiling surf.
His anxious comrades knew that delay would only make death more certain, so they hauled on the endless line as quickly as they could. Of course, being rove through the block before mentioned, the other half of it went out to the wreck with the gallant rescuer holding on. And what an awful swim that was! The line pulled him out, indeed, but it could not buoy him up. Neither could it save him from the jagged rocks that rose out of the sea every now and then, like black teeth which were quickly re-swallowed by each crashing wave. It was more like a dive than a swim, for the seething foam burst over him continually; but every time he rose above the surface to gasp for breath, he sent up a great shout to God for strength to enable him to save the perishing! Those loud prayers were drowned by the roaring tempest, but, though unheard by man, they did not fail to enter the ears of Him who rules in earth and Heaven.
Once the hero was thrown headlong on a rock, and so severely bruised that he lost hold of the rope, and when swept off again was left foundering in the foam. His comrades could barely see that something had happened to him, and a loud cry of consternation arose when they felt the line run light and slack. But our hero caught it again, and the cry was changed to a cheer as they ran him out to the vessel’s side.
He was soon on board, and saw at a glance what was the matter. The crew of the brig, being benumbed by long exposure, had not strength to tie the heavy cable round the mast. This the Coastguardsman did for them at once, and, as he did so, observed that there were two little girls among the crew. Then he gave a well-understood signal with a ship’s lantern to the men on shore, who fastened a slung lifebuoy to their whip line, hung it by a block to the thick cable, and ran it quickly out to the wreck.
There was no time to lose now. Our hero seized the two little girls and put them into the bag which hung from the circular lifebuoy.
“Take care of my darlings,” gasped the captain of the brig, who clung to the ship’s side almost quite exhausted.
“Come, get into the buoy, and go ashore with ’em yourself,” cried our hero.
“No. The three of us would be too heavy; send the steward. He’s a light man and brave,” replied the captain.
The steward was ordered to jump on the buoy and cling to it, so as to guard the little ones and prevent their being thrown out.
A signal having been again given with the lantern, the lifebuoy was drawn swiftly to land. It was a terrible passage, for the brig had begun to roll on her rocky bed, and at every roll the hawser and the lifebuoy dipped into the sea, or were jerked violently out of it, while the risk of being let drop on the black rocks that came grinning to the surface was very great.
But all went well. The three were received on the rocks with cheers, and conveyed up the cliffs to the Coastguard-house above, where warm welcome
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