Page:Princess Mary's Gift Book.djvu/33

CHARLIE THE COX A LIFE POEM BY HALL CAINE   Painting by CHARLES NAPIER HEMY, R.A. Drawings by ARCH. WEBB

Charlie was the cox of our Peel lifeboat. A braver spirit never sailed the sea.

Years ago, in a terrific gale, a ship from Norway, the St. George, came dead on for the wildest part of our coast, the fierce headland that lies back of the old Castle rock. The sound signal was fired, and Charlie and his brave comrades went out to her. She was reeling on the top of a tremendous sea, and there was no coming near to her side.

It was an awful task to get the crew aboard the lifeboat, but Charlie saved every soul, and lost not a hand of his own. When the “traveller” was rigged and the “breeches” were ready, and the crew of the doomed ship were at the bulwarks waiting to leave her, Charlie sang out over the clamour of the sea:

“How many are you?”

“Twenty-tour,” came back as answer.

Then Charlie cried, “I can see only twenty-three.”

“The other man is hurt. He’s dying. No use saving him,” the Norseman shouted.

“You’ll bring the dying man on deck before a soul of you leaves the ship,” cried Charlie.

There was a woman among them, and when the carpenter came scudding down the rope he had a canvas bag on his back.

“No tools here,” shouted Charlie.

“It’s the child,” said the man.

The captain came next. We had left everything else behind him—his money, his instruments, his clothes, his ship—but out of his pocket there peeped the head of a baby’s doll.

It was a thrilling rescue, but to see it in all its splendour you must have a drop of our