Even on what could be considered a 'routine' service lifeboat crews can face hazardous conditions and often considerable risk. Imagine then the types of service which warrant special recognition, and consider the acts of bravery involved in senices which lead to the awards of a Bronze Medal or Silver J Medal for Gallantry - then stretch the imagination still further to consider the supreme efforts which must be behind the rarely-awarded Gold Medal.'Gold Medal Rescues' is published by David and Charles on 29 October 992 at £40 and will be available from most bookshops. Hart of the royalties will go to the RNLI. The book will also be available through the RNLI, adding to the profit to the Institution.It is these Gold Medal services which noted marine artist Tim Thompson has recorded in his latest book, 'Gold Medal Rescues', capturing the drama of the moment in a way which will send a shiver down the spine of anyone who has ever set foot on a boat - and likely to put off anyone who has not from ever doing so.

The circumstances which lead to Gold Medals are rare with only 118 having been awarded in the 168 years of the RNLI's history, just 33 of them since the beginning of this century and only nine since the end of the Second World War. The Gold Medal is perhaps becoming even harder to win, and it is now ten years since the last was awarded.The RN Li's Public Relations Officer, Edward Wake-Walker, joined forces with the artist to supply the text which brings the stories surrounding the thirty paintings in 'Gold MedalRescues' to life. The combination of paintings and text must make this book irresistible to anyone with an interest in the RNLI or just an appreciation of fine marine art.Six lifeboats from stations as far apart as Tynemouth and Scarborough were involved over a peritxl of two and a half days in the service to Ki /H i,"a 7,400-ton hospital ship with 229 crew ,md medical staff aboard. On the morning of 30October, 1 14 she ran on to a reef near Whitby in an ESE gale, breaking in half in the mountainous seas.

At daybreak the people of Whitby began their rescue attempt, and the town's No. 2 lifeboat /oJw Fielden was man-handled along the rocky foreshore and over an 8ft sea wall to a spot a quarter of a mile from the wreck. The lifeboat's coxswain, Thomas Langlands, l.iuru hed knowing that she had been stove-in in twoplaces during her journey. The lifeboat reached the wreck twice after .1 tearful struggle, and took off 37 survivors, but could not return a third time as the rocks had taken their toll on the lifeboat. The lifeboat at Upgang, 2 miles away, accomplished another remarkable overland journey to the scene, but the huge seas forestalled another launch.

Messages had now reached Scarborough to the south and Teesmouth to the north. Scarborough lifeboat was finally towed out by a steam trawler, but when she arrived it was dark, and although she remained at sea all night in hellish conditions by daybreak it was obvious that still nothing could be done. The courage of the lifeboalmen of Teesmouth was just as great, but as they were towed across the Tees bar the lifeboat sprang a serious leak and had to be evacuated by the tug towing her.

Upgang lifeboat was launched again, but the sea and current were too strong and her exhausted crew were forced back. Whitby's No 1 lifeboat under the command of Coxswain Thomas Langlands was then towed to within half-a-mileofRiWii/to, but even Thomas Langlands who had twice got alongside the previous day had to admit defeat.

The rocks where Rvhilla lay provided no anchorage to allow a pulling boat to veer down, but perhaps Tyrtemouth's new motor lifeboat could drive inand out again without anchoring? Incommand wasCoxswain Robert Smith, accompanied by Captain H.E. Burton RE, an expert on the new petrol engine. At 1.00am on Sunday the lifeboat was in Whitbyharbour, and four hours later set out for the wreck. An eye-witness account in a contemporary edition of the Yorkshire Post said: The lifeboat throbbed her way towards the wreck and then, when within 200 yards of Rfihilla, she turned seawards. A few fathoms beyond shedischarged over the boiling sea gallonsand gallons of oil...the effect was remarkable; within a few seconds the waves appeared suddenly to be flattened down as by a miracle. In the meantime the lifeboat raced at full speed outside the line of breakers, past the stern of the wreck, and then turned directly to the shore. Guided with splendid skill and courage, she reached the lee of the wreck.

'Already the effects of the oil were beginning to pass off, and the waves were noticeably higher. A rope was let down to the lifeboat, and figures scrambled down. In less than a quarter of an hour more than forty men had been taken into the boat. It was then that two enormous waves were seen rolling up at tremendous speed. They swept over Rohilla onto the lifeboat, enveloping it. Each time the tough little craft disappeared for a moment, reappeared, tottered, and righted herself gamely. Closer still she hugged the vessel's side till every man aboard - fifty of them in all - had been hauled into the reselling boat.

'But the peril was not yet over; as the lifeboat shot past the wreck on her return journey she was shuck broadside on by a great wave; but once more she manfully withstood the shock, and swept out to sea."When Coxswain Patrick Sliney and his Ballycotton crew relumed on 14 February 1936 after rescuing the crew of the Daunt Rock lightship the lifeboat had been away for over three days, 49 hours of which were at sea in hurricane-force winds.

The account submitted by the station honorary secretary reads: 'On Friday,7th February, 1936,agale sprang up and increased until by Monday, 10th it was blowing a hurricane . At high water nothing could be seen of the breakwater or the pier.

Stones, a ton in weight, were being torn from the quay and flung about like sugar lumps.

'Ateighto'clocktheCivicGuardrang me up. The Daunt Rock Lightship, with eight men on board, had broken from her moorings 12 miles away, and was drifting towards Bath/cotton.

' Seas were breaking over the lifeboat house, where the boarding boat waskept. I did not believe it possible for the coxswain even to get aboard the lifeboat at her moorings, but he went down to the harbour and 1 followed to find the lifeboat already dashing out between the piers.

'I thought every minute the lifeboat must turn back, but she went on.

I watched till she was a mile off, where spray was flying over the 1%ft high lighthouse lantern. At the lighthouse the lifeboat seemed to hesitate and we thought she was coming back. Then to our horror the coxswain took her through between two islands. That way was much more dangerous but would save haif-a-mile.

The lifeboat came off the top of one sea with such a thud that everyone thought the engines had gone through the bottom. Visibility was appalling and the lightship could not be found, so the coxswain ran for Queenstown for information. The lifeboat set out again and, soon after midday found the lightship only half-a-mile from the shore.

Her crew would not leave her but feared their anchor would not hold and asked the lifeboat to stand by- A Royal Navy destroyer was also standing by and two attempts were made to establish a tow before dark. The lifeboat was twice able to pass a line but it parted. The destroyer was prepared to stand by so Coxswain Sliney made for Queenstown for more rope and food for his wet and exhausted crew.

'Early in the morning of the 12th the lifeboat set out again. The destroyer left, but the Irish Lights vessel Isolds was expected. The lifeboat stood by all day and all night until shortly after dawn on the 13th, when the coxswain decided to make for Queenstown as his petrol was getting low. As soon as the lifeboat had the petrol she set out again, at about four in the afternoon.

"When she reached the light vessel, about dusk, she found standing by to try to take the lightship in tow in the morning. But the weather had been getting worse and at 9.30, with the wind and sea still increasing, the coxswain took the lifeboat round the lightship's stern, not more than sixty yards from the Daunt Rock. The lightship was in great danger, if the wind went a bit to the west she must strike the rock.

'In the heavy sea it was impossible for Isatda to do anything so the coxswain took the lifeboat round the lightship again to take the crew off. She was plunging tremendously on her cable, rolling 40°.

Toanchor to windward was impossible, owing to her cable. Theonly thing was to make quick runs in on her port side, calling on her crew to jump tot the lifeboat. The coxswain must run in at full speed, check fora second, then go full astern. In that second, the men must jump. He knew the dangers. If he ran too far, the lifeboat would go over her cable and be capsized and, as he came alongside, the lightship might crash on top of the lifeboat.

The coxswain pumped out oil tocalm the seas, went astern of herand then drove full speed alongside. One man jumped, and the lifeboat went astern; the second time no one jumped; the third time five men jumped. On the fourth the lightship sheered violently and crashed on top of the lifeboat, damaging the deck. The lifeboat went in a fifth time.

Again no one jumped.

There were still two men on board clinging to the rails. They seemed unable to jump so the coxswain sent some of his crew forward, at the risk of being swept overboard, to seize the men, then raced in for the sixth time. The men were seized and dragged in.There will always be new stories to tell of shipwreck and rescue on the Goodwin Sands, but the wreck of the Indian Chief on 5 January, 1881 and the rescue by Ramsgate lifeboat the followingday should never be forgotten. There will never be a more chilling example of the 19th century seaman's ability to survive.

The 1,238-ton Indian Chiff struck the Long Sands, close to the Knock Light, in a gale on 5 January, 1881 and began to break up. An attempt to launch boats resulted in the loss of two men a nd ma ny of her 29-ma n crew lashed themselves to the masts. When the mainmast It'll in the night it brought down the mizzen and 16 men drowned.

The remaining 11 survived the night in spite of freezing gale force winds and at first light were astonished to see their salvation approaching through the heavy ba ken water across the sands in the shape of Ramsgate tfaboal The lifeboat, Bradford, a 44ft self-righter, had been towed by the paddle steamer Vulcan for 30 miles in the biting gale and heavy seas.

Arriving in the dark it was impossible to find the wreck so the coxswain and crew remained there for the night cruising about between the Sands, the lifeboat crew exposed to the whole fury of the storm and the steamer sustaining damage.

In the morning the lifeboat drew alongside under sail, took off all remaining survivors, sailed back across the Sands to the Vulcan and made it back to Ramsgate after an absence of 26 hours.

Those are the bare details. This extract from the mate's account provides the heart to this story: 1 saw a lifeboat under a reefed foresail heading directly for us. It was a sight, sir, to make one crazy with joy. The boat had to cross the broken water to fetch us, and in my agony of mind I cried out, 'She'll never face it! She'll leave us when she sees that water!' for the sea was frightful all to windward of the sand and over it making the whole surface resemble a boiling cauldron. Yet they never swerved a hair's breadth. Oh, sir, she was a noble boat! We could see her crew motionless as carved figures, and there was not a stir among them as the boa t leapt from the crest of a towering sea into the monstrous broken tumble. The peril of these men, who were risking their lives for ours, made us forget our own situation. Over and over again the boat was buried, but as regularly did she emerge with her crew fixedly looking.