Sylvia heard the sound of the passionate rush and rebound of many
waters, like the shock of mighty guns, whenever the other sound of
the blustering gusty wind was lulled for an instant. She was more
quieted by this tempest of the elements than she would have been had
all nature seemed as still as she had imagined it to be while she
was yet in-doors and only saw a part of the serene sky.
She fixed on a certain point, in her own mind, which she would
reach, and then turn back again. It was where the outline of the
land curved inwards, dipping into a little bay. Here the field-path
she had hitherto followed descended somewhat abruptly to a cluster
of fishermen's cottages, hardly large enough to be called a village;
and then the narrow roadway wound up the rising ground till it again
reached the summit of the cliffs that stretched along the coast for
many and many a mile.
Sylvia said to herself that she would turn homewards when she
came within sight of this cove,--Headlington Cove, they called
it. All the way along she had met no one since she had left the
town, but just as she had got over the last stile, or ladder of
stepping-stones, into the field from which the path descended, she
came upon a number of people--quite a crowd, in fact; men moving
forward in a steady line, hauling at a rope, a chain, or something
of that kind; boys, children, and women holding babies in their
arms, as if all were fain to come out and partake in some general
interest.
They kept within a certain distance from the edge of the cliff, and
Sylvia, advancing a little, now saw the reason why. The great cable
the men held was attached to some part of a smack, which could now
be seen by her in the waters below, half dismantled, and all but a
wreck, yet with her deck covered with living men, as far as the
waning light would allow her to see. The vessel strained to get free
of the strong guiding cable; the tide was turning, the wind was
blowing off shore, and Sylvia knew without being told, that almost
parallel to this was a line of sunken rocks that had been fatal to
many a ship before now, if she had tried to take the inner channel
instead of keeping out to sea for miles, and then steering in
straight for Monkshaven port. And the ships that had been thus lost
had been in good plight and order compared to this vessel, which
seemed nothing but a hull without mast or sail.
By this time, the crowd--the fishermen from the hamlet down below,
with their wives and children--all had come but the bedridden--had
reached the place where Sylvia stood. The women, in a state of wild
excitement, rushed on, encouraging their husbands and sons by words,
even while they hindered them by actions; and, from time to time,
one of them would run to the edge of the cliff and shout out some
brave words of hope in her shrill voice to the crew on the deck
below. Whether these latter heard it or not, no one could tell; but
it seemed as if all human voice must be lost in the tempestuous stun
and tumult of wind and wave. It was generally a woman with a child
in her arms who so employed herself. As the strain upon the cable
became greater, and the ground on which they strove more uneven,
every hand was needed to hold and push, and all those women who were
unencumbered held by the dear rope on which so many lives were
depending. On they came, a long line of human beings, black against
the ruddy sunset sky. As they came near Sylvia, a woman cried out,-'Dunnot stand idle, lass, but houd on wi' us; there's many a bonny
life at stake, and many a mother's heart a-hangin' on this bit o'
hemp. Tak' houd, lass, and give a firm grip, and God remember thee
i' thy need.' Sylvia needed no second word; a place was made for her, and in an
instant more the rope was pulling against her hands till it seemed
as though she was holding fire in her bare palms. Never a one of
them thought of letting go for an instant, though when all was over
many of their hands were raw and bleeding. Some strong, experienced
fishermen passed a word along the line from time to time, giving
directions as to how it should be held according to varying
occasions; but few among the rest had breath or strength enough to
speak. The women and children that accompanied them ran on before,
breaking down the loose stone fences, so as to obviate delay or
hindrance; they talked continually, exhorting, encouraging,
explaining. From their many words and fragmentary sentences, Sylvia
learnt that the vessel was supposed to be a Newcastle smack sailing
from London, that had taken the dangerous inner channel to save
time, and had been caught in the storm, which she was too crazy to
withstand; and that if by some daring contrivance of the fishermen
who had first seen her the cable had not been got ashore, she would
have been cast upon the rocks before this, and 'all on board
perished'.