Amazing Tales for Making Men Out of Boys Read Online Free Page A

eventually saving nearly 100 lives.
    Sir William saw at once the need for an organized rescue service, teams of men all around the coast ready to brave the worst weathers for the sake of those in peril. He began a campaign and by 1824 the ‘National Institution for the Preservation of Lives and Property from Shipwreck’ was born. In time it would be renamed the Royal National Lifeboat Institution. Down through all the years from that day to this, the RNLI has remained independent and voluntary. Government doesn’t pay for it, so the men in gray suits don’t get to say how it’s run, which is probably just as well.
    For his bravery during the subsequent rescue of members of the crew of the Fortrondet , Sir William was awarded one of three gold medals he would collect during his time as a lifeboatman. Of more significance to him that day, though, was the fact that he was accompanied during the rescue by his son Augustus, who received a silver award. It would not be the last time that a son would follow a father into the role of lifesaver.
    The steep slipway was being pounded by waves as big as houses, but perfect timing and judgment from Trevelyan Richards enabled them to break through into deep water and head off toward the last known position of the Union Star . It was 12 minutes past eight.
    First to the scene, however, was the Sea King helicopter, flown by Lieutenant Commander Russell Smith, a United States Navy pilot on exchange with the Royal Navy.
    Among other things, Morton told him: “We have one woman and two children aboard.”
    “Sorry,” came Smith’s uncertain reply. “Say again.”
    Morton had to repeat that his wife and stepdaughters were aboard.
    A winchman was lowered from the belly of the helicopter, down into the suffocating soup of gale and foam and spray. In a hurricane at sea, the air is made more of water than anything a person can breathe, but the winchman did his best to assess the situation on the deck of the Union Star. Below him he could see, rising and rolling, the fresh green paint of the brand-new deck. For a few seconds he glimpsed a pair of pink court shoes as one of the girls contemplated making a run toward the lights of the helicopter. It was not to be. The wind was threatening to snap the rotor-blades. Far from making a rescue, the pilot was fighting just to stay in the air. Defeated, he pulled back to a position from where he and the winchman could watch whatever the approaching lifeboatmen might try.
    In the wheelhouse of the stricken coaster, Morton listened as a new voice came over the radio. It was that of Trevelyan Richards, now within reach of them after an hour-long voyage through impossible waves and about to make his first move.
    “Do you want us to come alongside and take the women and children?” he asked.
    “Yes, please,” said Morton. “The helicopter is having a bit of difficulty. So if you can pop out and get the women and two children off, I’d be very much obliged.”
    Pop out and get the women and two children off. Very much obliged. It sounds so calm and reasonable and yet 36-year-old Morton’s predicament was as bad as it could have been. Maybe his pregnant wife and two stepdaughters were within earshot—back from the deck and taking shelter while they could. No doubt he wouldn’t havewanted to make matters worse for them by letting them hear how anxious he was and so he would have swallowed it down and tried to do what good husbands and fathers do: be brave.
    What Trevelyan Richards and the rest of the crew of the Solomon Browne certainly knew, even if Morton didn’t, was that the rocks of the Cornish coast were looming closer with every passing second. If something were not done immediately, the coaster would be smashed to pieces.
    Through that maelstrom of wind and water Trevelyan Richards plowed his course. Once again Morton told his wife and daughters to make their way down on to the deck, there to ready themselves to leave the Union Star .
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