And what of the watchers on South Head? Wal Jessop’s summons had been obeyed, and a small knot of men, and one or two women, stood looking out to sea at the doomed¹ ship.  
‘What is she, Wal?’ said one man. ‘Do you know her name?’
 
‘Not for certain; but I’m afraid it’s the Distant Shore,’ replied Jessop.
 
‘Captain Manton? I hope not,’ was the reply.
 
‘She’s helpless,’ said Jessop. ‘There’s no control over that ship. It’s awful! Here we are, and cannot lend a helping² hand. No boat could live in such a sea; no man could swim near those rocks.’
 
They saw the ship lifted upon the top of the waves, and then sink out of sight again. The large vessel³ was no more to the merciless sea than a mere⁴ cork⁵.
 
‘It will not be many minutes now,’ said Jessop to his wife; and she shuddered⁶, and stepped back from the cliffs. ‘Go home, Mary,’ he said; ‘this is no place for you.’
 
‘I’ll face it now I’m here,’ she said; ‘the crash will be awful. Can nothing be done to save them?’
 
‘Nothing,’ he replied. ‘We must wait and see what the morning brings forth⁷; the sea may have gone down by then. There’s very little hope that anyone will be saved.’
 
They crowded dangerously near the edge of the cliffs, and strained their eyes in the direction of the ship.
 
Suddenly the vessel shot upright under them, deep down below. She was heaved forward with tremendous force on the waves, and then came the crash, which seemed to shake the rock upon which they stood. It was an awful sound, this rending⁸ of timbers, the grinding and splitting to pieces of a fine ship, with her living freight, within a few yards of the harbour.
 
Cries came up from this abyss and made strong men tremble and weep. Cries for help, and they could not help, although there was not a man amongst them but would have risked his life cheerfully had he thought there was the slightest hope of saving those on board.
 
They heard the ship grinding on the rocks, they heard groans⁹ and shrieks¹⁰, and in a few moments there came an awful stillness. Even the waves seemed awed¹¹ by this terrible disaster, and there was a lull¹² in the storm. The wind dropped quickly and moaned dismally¹³.
 
Wal Jessop lay flat down, and, while a man held his legs, peered into the depths below, but he could see nothing but the white foam¹⁴ from the waves. There was not a trace of the vessel, so far as he could make out.
 
‘We must wait till morning, but it’s weary work,’ he said. ‘Would to God we could do something to help them! They’re beyond help now, I’m afraid. Poor Manton!’
 
‘Then, you feel sure it’s the Distant Shore?’
 
‘I have a presentiment¹⁵ it is. She’s due shortly, and Manton always liked to make a quick passage. If it is the Distant Shore, it will be the last trip he will ever make,’ said Jessop.
 
‘What shall we do as soon as it’s light?’
 
Wal Jessop was always the man addressed; the others recognised him as the guiding hand in this trouble.
 
‘We must have ropes ready,’ he said. ‘I’m going down the rocks as soon as it’s light.’
 
‘No, no,’ said his wife; ‘you must not, Wal. It will mean death to you, and then to me. If the rope broke you would be dashed to pieces. Wait until you can row round through the Heads.’
 
‘Nay, my lass,’ he said kindly¹⁶; ‘even if the gale¹⁷ drops, the sea will be too rough for any boat to reach the rocks below. I must go down. There’ll be no danger, with a stout¹⁸ rope and sturdy arms to hold me. Think of it, lass—I might save a life. It’s worth the risk, if only for the chance.’
 
She knew it would be useless to try and dissuade¹⁹ him; but she determined²⁰ to remain and watch.
 
It was weary work waiting for the light to come. Ropes had been procured²¹, and a heavy crowbar driven firmly down.
 
‘No danger of them breaking,’ said Wal Jessop as he handled the ropes. ‘You must keep the rope well away from the rock as you lower me down; if it frays²² on a jagged sharp edge it might break.’
 
At last daylight began to appear, and in these climes there is not long to wait before it is quite light.
 
As the men looked over the cliffs they could see no sign of any living creature. Spars and timbers had been dashed upon the rocks, and remained there, but they were the only signs of the wreck²³.
 
‘If timber can lodge²⁴ there,’ said Jessop, ‘maybe some poor fellow has managed to be cast up out of reach of the waves. Make ready quickly; we must lose no time.’
 
The men set to work with a will. The stoutest²⁵ rope was not long enough to reach to the foot of the rocks, and another long one had to be fastened on. The end was made fast to the iron bar, bags were put along the edge of the cliff to prevent the rope fraying²⁶, and, when Wal Jessop had inspected everything, and found all right, he tied the rope round his waist, and stood ready to make the descent. It was a perilous²⁷ task, for the wind was still high and the face of the rocks dangerous, having so many sharp projections²⁹ against which he might be knocked as he was lowered down.
 
He kissed his wife, and bade her think only of the duty he had to perform; and if there was a spice of danger in it, why, so much the better, and the more credit to a man for undertaking³⁰ it.
 
‘You ought to be proud I’m going to do it,’ he said; ‘there’s not a man here who does not envy me the job, and would like to take it on himself.’
 
‘That’s so,’ said one of the men. ‘It’s because we have such respect for your husband that we’re letting him have first turn. If he wants to go down a second time, I reckon there’ll be a dispute about it.’
 
Wal Jessop crawled to the edge of the rocks, and then, taking a firm hold of the rope, slipped quickly over. Two men held the rope near the edge, the others were behind, and one man stood watching Jessop, giving the signal when to stop and when to lower.
 
The wind was blowing strong from the sea, and it took Wal Jessop all his time to keep himself clear of the rocks. He dared not push off with his feet because the wind swung him back violently. He was bruised³² and scratched, and his clothes were torn, when he reached a rock above the level of the waves, and signalled to stop lowering.
 
‘He’s down,’ said the man giving orders to the others, ‘and in a safe place, too.’
 
Mary Jessop felt thankful for this, but she would not be at rest until her husband reached the top again.
 
Wal Jessop unfastened the rope and left it dangling³³. He then sat down and looked around him. Those above could merely see a small figure contemplating³⁴ the scene. On all sides there was ample evidence of a wreck, but it seemed to Wal Jessop the vessel had been shattered to atoms.
 
‘Not much chance of anyone being saved,’ he thought sadly. ‘How could they be dashed against these rocks and live?’
 
He scrambled³⁵ along from rock to rock and found very little. A hat or a coat he came across, lodged³⁶ high up on some projection²⁸. There was plenty of timber and odds³⁷ and ends, but not a sign of any living soul. He searched in one direction, towards the Heads, for about an hour, and then began to make his way in the opposite direction. It was hard work, for the sea was still rough and the wind high, and it was difficult for him to obtain a firm foothold on the slippery slabs³⁸ and slanting³⁹ rocks.
 
He was about to give up his search, when he caught sight of something white lying on a high level piece of rock some distance away.
 
‘Wonder what that is?’ he thought. ‘A white jacket, or something of the sort, I expect. Anyhow, now I am here, I may as well go and see.’
 
He scrambled along, and as he neared the object that had attracted his attention, his heart began to beat fast. The white garment he fancied covered a human form. Could it be possible? Had some poor fellow been cast up by the sea on to a ledge⁴⁰ of safety? He hurried on, in the hope that after all he might be able to save a human life. What a feeling of exultation⁴¹ comes over a man when he snatches a fellow-creature from the jaws⁴² of death! Wal Jessop had saved men’s lives before this time, but he was anxious to save someone from this fearful wreck if possible.
 
As he struggled on over the uneven⁴³ rocks, he saw that the ledge upon which the white object lay was out of the reach of the waves. His practised eyes saw at a glance that, if a man had been cast up on to this ledge, he would not be washed back by the receding⁴⁴ waves. He reached the foot of the rock, and found it a difficult matter to get up the side. He walked round and found a better foothold on the other side. It was not long before he reached the top, and there he saw a sight that brought tears to his eyes.
 
Stretched on the rock lay a youth, calm and still—so still that Wal Jessop thought him dead. It was a comely⁴⁵ face he looked upon, a face he knew would be fair, indeed, if life still remained to bring back light to the closed eyes. Clasped in the left arm of the youth was a child, and she also lay insensible.
 
Wal Jessop looked down upon them with great sorrow in his heart.
 
‘A brave lad this,’ he thought. ‘He must have fought hard to save that little lass—a brave lad, indeed, to risk his life for a little child.’
 
He stooped over them. He had a flask⁴⁶ of brandy in his coat-pocket. He placed his hand on the youth’s heart and felt there was a slight pulsation⁴⁷. He could not resist a loud cry of joy.
 
‘He’s alive yet!’ he shouted. Then he felt the child’s heart. Yes, it still beat faintly.
 
‘Both alive!’ he cried. ‘Thank God, they may be saved!’
 
He forced some brandy into the youth’s mouth, and a few drops he gave to the child. Then he pulled off his coat, wrapped the little girl in it, and began to rub the youth’s limbs and body to try and restore animation⁴⁸.
 
‘Not a case of half-drowned,’ he said. ‘They’ve been thrown up on to this ledge and stunned⁴⁹. They must have been insensible for some hours. He’s got a nasty cut at the back of his head, and the little one has a big bruise³¹ on her temple.’
 
After rubbing the youth’s hand for some time Wal Jessop saw signs of returning life. The sight gladdened him, and he redoubled his efforts. Presently he heard a faint sigh, the youth’s eyes opened, and he gazed wildly about him as though thinking of and looking for something. In a few minutes he gasped⁵⁰:
 
‘The child! Little Eva—where——’
 
‘Safe, my lad. She’s here,’ said Wal Jessop.
 
A satisfied smile passed over the youth’s face, and he sank again into insensibility.
 
‘A brave lad,’ muttered Wal Jessop again. ‘Thinks of naught⁵¹ but the saving of that little one.’
 
A faint cry made him turn his head, and he saw a movement under his coat.
 
‘The warmth has brought her round,’ he thought. ‘I’ll attend to her first. He won’t come round again yet awhile.’
 
He took up the girl and she opened her eyes wide.
 
‘Where is I?’ she lisped. ‘Where’s my daddy and my mammy? Where’s Eddy⁵²? Who is you?’ Then, as she caught sight of the sea and the rocks, she began to cry.
 
‘I’ll take care of you, my lamb,’ said Wal Jessop. ‘Eddy’s asleep—look.’
 
The girl looked at him and said quickly:
 
‘No wake him. Eddy very tired. He carried me long way.’
 
‘Then, I’ll take you home and come back for him,’ said Wal. ‘Give me a kiss, little one.’
 
She put up her face and he kissed her tenderly. Then he took her up in his arms and carried her as gently as possible over the rocks back towards the rope. Tired and worn out, the child was soon fast asleep.
 
‘That’s well,’ said Wal Jessop as he hurried on; ‘she’ll not be frightened as we are hauled up. There’ll be something for Mary to do here. We’ve no young one of our own. Perhaps we are to have this one from the sea. We’ll see about it when the lad can tell us all.’
 
When Wal Jessop reached the rope he gave a loud hallo, and held up the sleeping child. He could hear the ringing cheers from those on the top.
 
Having made the rope fast and tied the child firmly round the waist, he gave the signal to haul up, and soon reached the top without any mishap⁵³.
 
‘Here, lass, there’s a present for you,’ said Wal, as he laid the sleeping child in his wife’s arms.
 
Mary Jessop kissed it fondly, and could find no words to express her feelings.
 
‘There’s a lad down yonder,’ said Wal Jessop. ‘I must go back for him. You take the child home, Mary. I’ll not be long. There’s no danger. It’s a safe trip. I’ve been once, and I know the way. Now, lads, lower me down again, and we’ll soon have the young fellow up here. He’s a fine-looking chap, and I’m glad I’m the one to rescue him. Lower away, boys!’