Free Lifeboat! by Margaret Dickinson

through the shallows, the point of the bow almost reaching dry sand. The launchers were ready with their balancing poles, which were inserted on either side and held by two launchers on each pole, whilst others placed the skeats—wooden slipboards with loops of rope at each end—under the bows of the boat. The cable from the tractor was attached and began to haul the heavy boat from the water.
    As the Mary Martha Clamp came clear of the water out on to the hard sand, there was a pause whilst Martin Milner, with a blanket around his shoulders, was handed down the ladder to Tony Douglas.
    â€˜Put me down, mister,’ Martin said and began to wriggle as he saw his mother running across the sand towards him. ‘Put me down.’
    Thinking the boy wanted to show his anxious mother that he was all right, Tony set him down on the warm sand and, seeing that he was reasonably steady on his feet, allowed the boy to walk towards the woman.
    But the loving, tearful reunion, which Tony Douglas had expected, did not happen.
    Thwarted of her revenge upon both boys, Blanche’s hysterical anger fell upon Martin’s frail and trembling shoulders. She flew towards the child, hand raised and clouted him across the side of the head, felling the already unsteady little boy to the sand.
    Fred Douglas saw his son, Tony, grit his teeth and move towards the screeching woman threateningly. He was beside him in an instant to lay his hand, warningly, on Tony’s arm.
    â€˜Here, steady on, missus,’ Fred spoke up first. ‘We know the little lads have done wrong, but they’ve had their punishment …’
    â€˜What the bloody ’ell do you know about it?’ She turned on Fred, who smiled sadly at the uncontrolled woman. He watched as Joe Milner tried to take her by the arm and reason with her, but she only struck out at him too, lashing his face viciously.
    At that moment Jack Hansard moved forward and scooped the boy up from the sand and carried him to the waiting landrover.
    â€˜Where are you takin’him?’ Blanche screamed after the coastguard and made as if to follow, but Joe held on to her, fighting her flailing arms and kicking feet. ‘Blanche, Blanche, for God’s sake.’
    The police constable took hold of Blanche’s arm. ‘ Now look here, love, he needs a hospital check. And your other lad’s there. Calm down, missus, and we’ll take you there in the police car.’
    Blanche pulled her arm from his grasp. ‘ I ain’t ridin’ in no bloody police car!’ And with that parting shot, she ran, stumbling, up the beach.
    Joe sighed heavily. ‘Officer, I’d be glad to come to the hospital if you’d be good enough to take me.’
    â€˜Of course, sir, come along.’
    They turned and followed the landrover making its way up the beach towards the ambulance waiting to take Martin to the hospital.
    Macready saw them go out the corner of his eye, but then his full attention was claimed by the beaching procedure.
    The lifeboat was hauled up on to the carriage, the chains secured and the tractor swivelled around once more, recoupled and the rescue party moved off up the beach.
    Back in the boathouse hot soup and a tea-urn brought in from one of the nearby front cafes—owned and run by Pete Donaldson’s parents-in-law, as it happened, where Angie often helped out in her spare time—awaited the crew and launchers, but the work was not done even yet.
    The Mary Martha Clamp , her carriage and tractor had to be hosed down with soapy water and rinsed again with clear water. The lifeboat was refuelled, the oil level and cooling system checked thoroughly.
    Only then, approximately an hour and a half after beaching, could Macready telephone his headquarters at Breymouth to report that the Saltershaven lifeboat was now back on station and ready for service.
    Out in the Atlantic the depression continued its steady progress towards the Irish