"Up anchor," I shouted, "up anchor, and let me tow you into Port
Macquarie, twelve miles north of this."
"No," cried the owner; "we'll go back to Newcastle. We missed
Newcastle on the way coming; we didn't see the light, and it was not
thick, either." This he shouted very loud, ostensibly for my hearing,
but closer even than necessary, I thought, to the ear of the
navigating officer. Again I tried to persuade them to be towed into
the port of refuge so near at hand. It would have cost them only the
trouble of weighing their anchor and passing me a rope; of this I
assured them, but they declined even this, in sheer ignorance of a
rational course.
"What is your depth of water?" I asked.
"Don't know; we lost our lead. All the chain is out. We sounded with
the anchor."
"Send your dinghy over, and I'll give you a lead."
"We've lost our dinghy, too," they cried.
"God is good, else you would have lost yourselves," and "Farewell" was
all I could say.
The trifling service proffered by the _Spray_ would have saved their
vessel.
"Report us," they cried, as I stood on--"report us with sails blown
away, and that we don't care a dash and are not afraid."
"Then there is no hope for you," and again "Farewell." I promised I
would report them, and did so at the first opportunity, and out of
humane reasons I do so again. On the following day I spoke the
steamship _Sherman,_ bound down the coast, and reported the yacht in
distress and that it would be an act of humanity to tow her somewhere
away from her exposed position on an open coast.
Pages:
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180