Meanwhile,
from time to time, we burnt a hand-signal--a light, sir, that's fired
something after the manner of a gun. You fit it into a wooden tube,
and give a sort of hammer at the end a smart blow, and the flame rushes
out, and a bright light it makes, sir. Ours were green lights, and
whenever I set one flaring I couldn't help taking notice of the
appearance of the men. It was a queer sight, I assure you, to see them
all as green as leaves, with their cork jackets swelling out their
bodies so as scarcely to seem like human beings, and the black water as
high as our mast-head, or howling a long way below us, on either side.
They burned hand-signals on the tug, too, but nothing came of them.
There was no sign of the wreck, and staring over the edge of the boat,
with the spray and the darkness, was like trying to see through the
bottom of a well.

'So we began to talk the matter over, and Tom Cooper says, "We had
better stop here and wait for daylight." "I'm for stopping," says
Steve Goldsmith; and Bob Penny says, "We're here to fetch the wreck,
and fetch it we will, if we wait a week." "Right," says I; and all
hands being agreed--without any fuss, sir, though I dare say most of
our hearts were at home, and our wishes alongside our hearths, and the
warm fires in them--we all of us put our hands to our mouths and made
one great cry of "Vulcan ahoy!" The tug dropped astern. "What do you
want?" sings out the skipper, when he gets within speaking distance.
"There's nothing to be seen of the vessel, so we had better lie-to for
the night," I answered. "Very good," he says, and then the steamer,
without another word from her crew, and the water tumbling over her
bows like cliffs, resumed her station ahead, her paddles revolving just
fast enough to keep her from dropping astern.

'As coxswain of the lifeboat, sir, I take no credit for resolving to
lie-to all night. But I am bound to say a word for the two crews, who
made up their minds without a murmur, without a second's hesitation, to
face the bitter cold and fierce seas of that long winter darkness, that
they might be on the spot to help their fellow-creatures when the dawn
broke and showed them where they were. I know there are scores of
sailors round our coasts who would have done likewise. Only read, sir,
what was done in the North, Newcastle way, during the gales last
October. But surely, sir, no matter who may be the men who do what
they think their duty,