A GALLANT FISHERMAN
A Brave Rescue in a Storm
CAPTAIN ALBERT GEMPTON, of Brixham, ranks amongst those men who have helped to make England the mistress of the seas, being a gallant hero with a whole host of brave deeds to his credit. A fisherman—a son of Devon, which has produced so many hardy sons of the sea—probably one of the most arduous pieces of work he ever undertook was when he went to the rescue of two lads on a fishing smack off Lundy Island on December 16, 1910. Incidentally, it shows the kind of thing that very often befalls the fisherman, who, going out to reap the harvests of the seas, encounters untold dangers, while we at home go to our breakfast tables, and all unthinking eat the fish to catch which may have cost a man his life.
On this particular day there had been a severe storm, which swept along the coast and caught many fishing vessels at their work, a good number of them being wrecked and all hands lost. The smack Friendship was off Lundy Island when the storm broke out, and for a time bravely battled against it; she held two men and two apprentices, and these gallantly worked her, seeking to get into port. But Fate was unkind; first the skipper was taken bodily by the angry waves and carried overboard, and was not seen again. Then, almost immediately afterwards the other man suffered a like fate; and the two apprentices, mere lads learning the trade of the sea, found themselves alone on a smack they knew not how to manage.
To make matters worse, it was night; and for hours the two boys struggled gamely with their vessel, fighting the elements as best they knew how. The great waves reared white-crested heads, swooped down upon the smack, filling it with water; now she was on the crest of a terrific wave, now in the trough, and the boys thought that each moment would be their last. Their one hope was to keep the water under, and for hours and hours they worked hard at the pumps; but as fast as they pumped the water out more swept in, and they gave themselves up for lost. One, two, three o’clock came and passed, and still they were fighting for life, and with little hope of coming through. Then their hearts gave a bound; they wiped the water from their bleared eyes and looked across the waste of sea, scarcely believing what they saw. A light!
Forgetting the necessity for working the pumps without cessation, they rushed to the side and yelled themselves hoarse, seeking to attract the attention of the men on the boat they knew was there. Above the roar of the storm their voices were soundless; they might have yelled till Doomsday and never been heard. But those men on the other vessel had seen—which was just as good—and with sail set she rode before the wind, drove her way through the water, and made for the derelict. It was hard going, but Captain Gempton knew that his little smack, the Gratitude, was a sturdy sailer; and he realised that something was amiss.
After a stern struggle the Gratitude came near enough to the Friendship to bawl out for information; and the two boys yelled out the story of their plight.
“Save us!” they cried. “Save us! We’re alone, and the water’s gaining on us!”
“Righto, sonnies!” cried Gempton. “Keep pumping. We’ll have you off in a twinkling!”
They were brave words, but Gempton knew that a “twinkling” was a comparative term. It would be no light task to get alongside the Friendship without smashing into her, bobbing up and down as she was to the will of the waves. He manœuvred his vessel carefully to get her into the best position from which to try to effect the rescue, knowing that it would be asking the boys to jump to death to leap out and try to swim to the Gratitude. If they were to be got off, they must be fetched; and he knew it.
But try as he would, the Gratitude could not be got within distance from which the boys could be saved. There was only one way to do it; and that was to lower a boat and row over to the smack.
“I’m going, boys!” said Gempton presently. “Lower away!”
And his men hoisted the boat. Gempton, swathed in his oilskins, took his seat in it; and at the same time another man, John Tidmarsh, jumped in with him.
“I’m coming too, skipper,” he said.
“Good,” said the captain; and the two men took their seats, each of them carrying a lifebuoy. Then, pushing off, they bent their backs to the oars, and sought to pull the boat over the waves. What a tussle that was! What a fight against the elements! The wind caught them and hurled them forward; the waves broke upon them and hurled them backwards. Huge mountains of water fell upon them, swamping the boat, almost filling it; and while one man rowed the other bailed. Then on again—only to meet the same fate; bail again, and then onward through the darkness and the noise of Nature till eventually they came near to the Friendship.
Then was careful handling called for, lest the boat be dashed into the side of the smack and broken to pieces.
“Easy!” cried Gempton; and Tidmarsh grasped his oars, plied them masterfully, and just as it seemed that the boat was going to be smashed, she swung round and missed the Friendship by the fraction of a yard. And meanwhile the two boys were pumping for very life, straining eyes through the darkness to catch a glimpse of the heroes making for them.
“They’ll never do it,” said one of them.
“God grant they do!” said the other. “See—they’re here!”
Sure enough, Gempton had brought his boat alongside, where she lay rocking at the mercy of the waves, but held in check by the firm hands on the oars.
“Quick!” bawled Gempton. “Quick, for your lives!” And instantly the two boys forsook their pumps and rushed to the side, ready to jump overboard at the word.
“Jump!” “No!” The two words seemed to come simultaneously. Gempton had given the first, Tidmarsh the second, as the boat swung away from the smack. Then, with a mighty tug at the oars the boat was brought back again. “Jump!” And this time a boy jumped, landing in the boat, and sending it pitching and tossing, and threatening to overturn it. Again she swung out, only to be pulled back; and once more a boy jumped, and landed fairly in her.
They were saved! Not yet. The journey to the Gratitude had still to be made, and now the wind was against them, blowing down upon them in greater fury, as though angry at being robbed of the prey it had fought for all through the hours of the howling night. It had seemed hours getting out to the Friendship; it seemed years getting back. Time and time again the water broke in upon them, and filled the boat so that she could not easily ride the storm; the boys bailed like madmen, and kept on bailing, and the two men held on at their oars and rowed in the race against death.
They reached the Gratitude, where, with the waves breaking upon them, and the wind battering at them, the little company of four climbed perilously into the ship—exhausted all of them, grateful two of them, and well pleased the other two for having been able to effect the rescue.