_A scene on the coast of Cornwall._
A short time before my departure from the hamlet of Landwithiel,[4] I
was awoke early one morning by the roaring of the wind in the huge old
chimney of my room--the whole tenement, indeed, occasionally shook as a
violent gust swept down the valley, tossing the branches of the stout
old tree before the door to and fro in a way that threatened at last to
level them with the dust. The very briny scent of the atmosphere
convinced me there was some sea running in the bay; and it was the more
unexpected as we had had no tokens of a storm for several days previous.
From the peninsular situation of this county, surrounded on almost every
side with the restless ocean and exposed to the wide sweep of the
Atlantic, it may be supposed that storms are of frequent occurrence. As
on the present occasion, they often come with little or no warning; and
the effects of a hurricane in the distant main, far outstripping the
wind, sometimes rolls with tremendous fury towards our western shores,
on which the sea is encroaching in every part.
[4] See "Recollections of a Wanderer," _Mirror_, Nos. 430-475.
Landwithiel was a wild little place. It was essentially a "fishing
village." The people ploughed the deep, not the land; and the constant
exposure--blow high, blow low--on the restless sea, endued its
inhabitants, and the Cornish fishermen generally, with a fearlessness of
danger and boldness of character almost unequalled in these islands. The
lives and pursuits of the two great classes in this county--the maritime
and mining population--are widely opposite to each other. The one class
pass their existence on the stormy waters of the deep, whilst the other
labour far below the surface of the earth; each being continually
exposed to numberless perils and dangers.
When I descended below I found my host already astir; so after attending
well to the inward man, I lost no time in starting towards the harbour.
As I formerly described, this comes abruptly in sight round a sharp
angle, at some elevation from the beach. On the upper part of the
descent the road was flanked on each side with a row of cottages, the
street being so steep that steps were formed in many parts to aid the
progress of the passenger. This gave an air of singularity and wildness
to the place, which was aided by the boldness of the surrounding
scenery. The street bore all the marks of the occupation of the
inhabitants--nets hanging to dry--strings of fish--an old oar--or a
"fisher's wife" broiling fish for her husband's breakfast--met the eye
on either side.
On clearing the street, I observed a larger throng on the old pier than
was wont to gather there on ordinary occasions. There was obviously some
unusual subject of interest agitated amongst them; so I turned from my
course and joined the group.
A gale is an important event in a fishing town. Independent of the
interest naturally felt for the various craft belonging to the place
which may happen to be afloat, there may be wrecks or other marine
casualties to excite the interest or cupidity of the observer.
There was a tremendous tumbling sea rolling into the little bay, when I
drew towards the pier. At the further end was a group of persons in
earnest conversation, whom I distinguished as the knowing ones and
long-heads of the place; while their younger companions were engaged in
parties walking briskly to and fro on the pier. A tier of boats had been
carefully drawn up high and dry beyond the wreck left by the last spring
tide. Four or five, however, were afloat, and lurching heavily alongside
the pier, whither the tide had not long reached; the wind rattling
amongst the masts, shrouds, and half-bent sails of some craft which had
just run in for shelter from the impending storm. My recent adventure
had made me pretty well acquainted with most of the persons around: and
I learned that a _ground swell_ had been observed along shore the
preceding night. This phenomenon is generally occasioned by a storm in
the Atlantic, with a westerly wind; and it affords to the old fishermen
an almost certain indication of approaching foul weather.
"A stiff bit of a gale, this same, Master Charles," said an old tar,
giving an energetic jerk to his trousers, "Ay, ay, old boy," he replied,
"this wind is not blowing for nothing, you may take my word for it; but
if the Jane and the Susan hove in sight I'd not mind a bit for all that;
we've not a stick afloat but her."
"What! is Sam Clovelly[5] out this morning, Helston?" I anxiously
inquired of the pilot, who was a manly, excellent sort of fellow. He had
grown grey with service, and there was something in the steady eye and
calm decision of his look that marked him out as no common character.
[5] See _Mirror_, No. 475. "Dawlish's Hole."
"Yes, sir, we have no tidings of him yet, and the sky looking as black,
yonder, as the face of a negro; but we'll hope that he's run out of
harm's way before now."
As the morning waxed apace, the interest in the fate of the Jane and
Susan became more evident amongst the by-standers. Every stick that came
in sight cut out conversation; but many an eye was cast anxiously to
windward in vain for poor Sam Clovelly and his brother Arthur, who had
been out since the preceding night. Presently the two little orphan
sisters of the missing men came upon the pier, and Helstone, the pilot,
and some of the others anxiously endeavoured to cheer and console them.
"I'll be bound they've run for ---- port long ago, darlings, so don't
cry now, Jane; the old craft's stood many a stronger breeze than this;
now, wipe your eyes, there. Poor things," he said, turning to me, as the
children went farther on the pier, "their two brothers are the only
friends they have got in the world, and if they are gone who is to take
care of them? Their father, old Sam Clovelly, was lost--I recollect the
time well--somewhere off Milford; leaving his wife, with two stiff tidy
bits of lads, and likely to increase the family; well, sir, she took to
her bed, with the shock, and never rose from it more, after giving birth
to these two little girls, leaving poor Sam and Arthur to struggle on
like a cutter in a heavy sea. But God Almighty never deserts the
innocent, sir--you've seen that, I dare say? Sam's been a steady lad,
and has prospered, and he and Arthur have never forgotten their mother's
dying words, and have been very kind to their sisters; but, come what
will, the orphans shall never want a friend as long as Charley Helston
has a home or a bit of bread to offer them."
We now again reverted to the state of the day. As the gale swept on,
numberless craft were running along the coast towards ---- port, for
shelter. A crack Fowey-man now making a board till she "eat out" of the
wind a North-countryman right ahead--now with her helm-a-lea, and now
careering along with a heavy following sea on either quarter--kept our
attention on the alert. Presently a steamer came in sight bearing up
across the bay towards ---- Head. The white rush of steam from her
safety-valves was well made out by the blackness of the windward
horizon; and contrasted with the dense puffs of smoke from her funnel,
which were instantly dispersed or carried in heavy patches to leeward.
The glory of modern discoveries is unpopular with our coasting-seamen,
and the mate of a coaster, who was watching her movements, observed that
"we should not have a lad fit to hand a sail or man a yard soon with
their cursed machinery."
As she passed on her course "cleaving blast and breaker right ahead,"
with her weather-wheel often spinning in the air, and as the sky
darkened and the waves roared louder, I thought with deep interest on
what might even now be the fate of those, without whose friendly aid I
should have been lying on a rocky pillow and seaweed for my shroud, near
Dawlish's Hole. The weather now became entitled to the formidable name
of a storm, but some time had yet to elapse before darkness added its
horrors to the scene of desolation.
Heavy masses of breakers were continually striking the pier-head with
fearful crashes; now bursting over, amid seas of spray, with resistless
impetuosity, drenching every one under its lee; now recoiling for a
brief moment, as if to gather strength, leaving a smooth, hollow waste
of oily sea--like the treacherous pauses of human passion,--and then
returning with wilder haste and tenfold added fury to the onset.
The morning was waning away. I left the pier, and bent my course away
from Landwithiel.
The path I pursued led along the summit of the cliffs; oftentimes
winding so close round the edge of a projecting acclivity, that it
required a clear head and a steady foot, for one false step would have
been instant destruction. The coast below me was justly entitled to take
its place amongst the finest rock-scenery in the island; and exhibited
in its grandest form, the peculiarly wild and picturesque nature of the
coast of Cornwall. After working my way against a head-wind for three or
four miles, I took shelter in Dawlish's Watch Tower, an old half-ruined
building, which commanded an almost boundless look-out. Nearly right
opposite to this station lay the Wolf-stone, an insular, and almost
inaccessible rock, which rose in deep water about three-quarters of a
mile from land. Whilst scanning with my glass the windward horizon, I
accidentally rested on this islet, and I had not looked long before my
gaze was rivetted to it. Two individuals I fancied were standing near a
pole which was erected on the highest point. These lone and unusual
tenants of the sea-birds' home were obviously, from their motions, much
agitated. A heavy driving shower, for a few minutes, wrapped it in mist.
When this cleared off, the black and dreary front of the Wolf-stone
became dimly visible through the tumultuous assemblage of gigantic
breakers, that were every instant grappling with the steep which defied
them. Another minute's observation and I was running at my utmost speed
back to Landwithiel. The captives could be no other than Sam and Arthur
Clovelly.
My arrival caused universal stir and interest in Landwithiel. The
Dasher, the best sea-boat in the harbour was instantly manned, with
directions to pull to Carn Cove, almost opposite the rock, whither the
rest of the men rapidly proceeded along the heights. Helston and myself
also went thither to consult in the first instance, as to the best plan
for relief; for no boat could live, in such a day as this, within some
distance of the rock.
The anxious group gathered on the edge of the cliff; and while a white
flag was running up a boat's mast which we had erected on the tower, we
cheered loudly and repeatedly to assure the distant captives that aid
was nigh.
"It is Sam--God be praised," sang out Helston, who was steadily looking
out through his glass--and every one crowded around. "And is Arthur
there too, Charles?"--"Yes, I see.--Death! I thought that wave would
sweep over all. Now they wave their neckcloths--they beckon us to use
haste. High water is drawing fast on, and what man ever lived on the
Wolfstone in a spring flood. They wave again; sing away there, my lads,
cheerily!" and a tumultuous shout of human voices again mingled with the
blast.
Almost every eye was now cast out for the Dasher, and she was seen
pulling with great difficulty--for a handkerchief of canvass would have
been madness--towards the shelter of a projecting mass of rock, in Carne
Cove, in the comparatively smooth water behind which, Helston and myself
were enabled with some difficulty to get aboard. It was a moment of some
excitement. Accustomed from childhood fearlessly to brave an element
they might truly call their own, the gallant little crew steadily seated
themselves, and taking off their hats manfully answered the encouraging
cheers from aloft. The men now shipped their oars, and all having been
made snug, I seated myself in the stern-sheets, near Helston, who had
taken the helm. There was something fine in his weather-beaten
countenance, and grey hair streaming in the breeze, as he steadily
scanned the dark masses of the distant Wolf-stone--he was a true seaman.
The Dasher was a boat that would live in almost any weather on this
coast, head to wind; but when she was put about, there was no little
danger of her being pooped in a heavy following sea. Ours was now the
former case, and as the crew put her through the contending sea, which
at every stroke hit our bows and soaked us with spray, I anxiously
consulted with Helston on the best means of shipping the captives on
making the Wolf-stone. Keeping his eye fixed on the rock, which was
grimly visible on our larboard bow, he shook his head as the portentous
darkness of the sky again claimed our attention. "If we had been delayed
a quarter of an hour longer they would have been food for fishes;" I
remarked, "but it will be close run; our men are doing all that strength
and skill can do, but it avails little when opposed to such a power as
this."
"Never fear, sir, we shall do yet--you are not so cool as I--how should
you? when I have braved the storms of nearly sixty winters:--but the
Wolf-stone's a spot, I will frankly confess, with which I had rather
make acquaintance with a clearer sky and a flowing sheet, than on such a
night as this. Just give a look-out a-head, sir," he added, as we were
mounting a heavy sea, "and tell me how things are aloft on the rock."
However formidable this dreary steep might have appeared at a distance,
now we were drawing near to it, the wildness and sublimity of the scene
surpassed my calculations. The fugitives, who by their gestures were
urging us onward, had been driven for shelter to a hollow on the leeward
side of the rock, which indeed was almost the only spot that now
afforded an asylum from danger. The waves as they came rolling onwards
with aggravated force from the main, ever and anon burst against the
isle with terrific violence, now breaking into gigantic masses, then
driven in columns of sparkling spray to a vast height in the air, and
now closing on every side around their victims. The isle, indeed,
appeared to be menaced with total annihilation.
As we could now distinguish both the brothers, we instinctively cheered
them on drawing towards the landward side of the rock. They were
compelled every minute to crouch and cling to the cliff under which they
had taken shelter, as a huge wave burst below their feet, and struck
them in its upward violence. The Wolf-stone could no longer raise its
head in dominion over the main. The surf ran so high immediately around
it, that to approach at all closely would only have ended in the
destruction of every soul. We, therefore, hailed them as we stood under
its lee, and found that in consequence of their having remained almost
all night on this dreary spot, drenched with wet, and chilled with cold,
any effort to swim through the surf would probably be fatal in their
exhausted state. What then remained to be done? We had ropes on board
which would be of infinite service, could we only devise means to convey
them to the rock. At this juncture, the services of my old
Newfoundlander, Retriever, came forcibly to my mind. The poor animal had
refused to be separated from me when we embarked, and lay at my feet in
the boat. On his exertions therefore depended the lives of our friends.
He soon understood the task he was to perform, and in another second was
dashing onwards through the waves. An affecting scene now took place
between the brothers, as to who should first avail himself of the
approaching aid. A gigantic rush of tide, which almost swept entirely
over the rock, told them, however, that time was precious. But Sam was
firm. The younger brother then plunged forward and was soon drawn safely
on board. He informed us, as Retriever again swam away with the rope,
that he feared his brother was much more exhausted than himself. With
breathless interest, therefore, we watched Sam tie the rope round his
body, and enter the water. The violence of the gale, at this instant,
compelled us to stand further off the rock; indeed, within a few minutes
we foresaw that its presence would only be indicated by a low black mass
indistinctly seen, amidst the boiling and restless waves of the ocean;
an appearance, I was told, which it only presents in the most violent
storms. Poor Sam, now seen, now lost, amid the foaming ridges of the
sea, came gradually along till within about forty paces from the boat,
when it was evident his strength had failed him. An arm was shot into
the air, then his head and shoulders rose rapidly, and there was a
sudden blank in the waters. "Pull away, my lads, for your lives," we
shouted, "or he is gone!"
* * * * *
"It was a hard run thing, I reckon, sirs," said Mr. Habbakuk
Sheepshanks, who was rather top-heavy that evening, to a numerous party
who were assembled round his capacious hearth at the "Ship-aground,"
"but all's well, they say, that ends well, so we'll even drink the
health of the brothers in a glass of the free genuine Cognac." "What is
that you say!" said the exciseman....