"I hope to get rid of this craft!" cried Captain Truck, who having
seized an axe, followed by the rest of the crew, was cutting away at the
stranger's bowsprit rigging.
Happily, our gaff stood, although our topmast was carried away by her
foreyard-arm, and came down with a crash on deck, papa narrowly escaping
being struck. The next instant we were free.
"You'll be on shore in a quarter of an hour if you steer your present
course!" shouted papa. "Steer to the south-east."
"Ay, ay! Thank you," came from the ship; "sorry to have run you down,
but you've returned good for evil."
"I pray that I may always do so!" answered papa; and the next instant
the stranger was lost to sight in the thick mist.
We immediately hove-to, to get in the wreck of the topmast, and to
repair damages. A piece of planking was nailed over the side which had
been stove in, and the fragments of the boat were stowed on deck.
"I hope the Dolphin will escape that fellow," observed Captain Truck.
"If he doesn't alter his course he may run her down, and then, maybe,
wreck himself on the Stags."
"I am thankful to believe he has altered his course," observed papa. "I
heard the order given; but I should like to fall in with the Dolphin,
for we must run back to Falmouth and repair damages. She, probably, not
knowing what has happened to us, will stand on to Penzance. We can
reach Falmouth, however, much sooner than we can get there, and have the
work done more rapidly."
We accordingly kept away, and in a short time the Lizard Lights appeared
through the mist at such a height that papa knew we were clear of the
Stags. After this we steered for Saint Anthony's Light, and soon came
in sight of a green fixed light on the Prince of Wales' Breakwater,
passing which before midnight we brought-up in safety in the harbour.
"We have good reason to be thankful at having escaped the danger to
which we were exposed this evening," observed papa, as we were taking
some supper in the cabin before turning in. "It is one to which yachts
as well as other vessels must always be exposed, especially at the
present time, when so many steamers are running up and down. I should
have been happier had the Dolphin been with us; but I hope we may find
her the day after to-morrow, as she is sure to wait at Penzance for us."
The first thing in the morning we went on shore to get carpenters off to
repair the bulwarks and make a new topmast. Papa found a boat exactly
the size we required, and purchased her, for it would have taken too
much time to repair the damaged one.
The carpenters made quick work. By daybreak the next morning, having
all again ataut, we sailed for Penzance. When we were well round the
Lizard, we fell in with a fleet of boats which had come off shore. On
looking in the direction towards which they were pulling, we saw the
water curiously agitated.
"They are after a school of pilchards," said Captain Truck. "See how
the water glitters with them; if you look through your glasses at the
top of the cliffs, you will see a number of people with boughs in their
hands waving them. They have been on the look-out to give notice as
soon as they caught sight of the school. When they see the first, they
sing out `Heva;' but what it means I don't know, except to give notice
to the men in the boats."
Meantime, the rowers were straining their muscular arms to the utmost,
until they reached the school, when they immediately united the nets
they had on board; and thus starting from the same point, quickly began
to cast them out, until they formed a circle not less than two thousand
feet in circumference, in the midst of which we could see the shining
fish leaping and struggling in a mass together.
Truck told us that the seine was about twelve fathoms deep, that it thus
formed a wall, the upper part being supported by corks, and the lower
weighted by lead.
While the circle was being formed, a third boat was employed in driving
the fish toward the centre of the enclosure, as there was a risk that
they might otherwise escape before it was completed. The wind was very
light, and the sea calm, so that we could watch the operation at our
leisure. The other boats, now fastened with long ropes to the seine,
began slowly dragging it towards the shore, the fish, meantime, mostly
keeping in its centre. Now and then a few would make their escape by
leaping over it, but the greater number did not appear to have the sense
to do this.
We followed them, as we knew where there was water for the nets there
must be water for us. At length, we saw them approach a sandy beach.
Here the rowers ceased exerting themselves; but they did not attempt to
drag the net on to the beach, for it would inevitably have been broken
through by the vast quantity of fish inside. Several smaller boats had
put off, the men in them carrying small nets and baskets. They now
commenced what is called "tucking."
The small nets were thrown out, each forming a circle, and the fish
caught in them were hauled on board in the ordinary way. The other
boats ladled out the pilchards with baskets. Each boat as she was laden
pulled back to the shore by a passage left open for her to pass through,
which was immediately closed again.
A number of women and lads, with creels on their backs, were collected
on the beach to carry the fish up to the curing-house, situated some
little way off on the top of the downs.
A considerable time was occupied in emptying the seine, for though no
fish appeared on the surface of the water, the tucking nets brought up a
considerable quantity which were swimming lower down. The whole of the
vast net was then dragged up on the beach, when the fish which had been
caught in the meshes, or had before escaped capture, were secured.
As the calm continued, papa took us on shore in the boat to visit the
curing-house; and we heard a great deal more about the pilchard fishery
from the men on the beach. We were surprised to find that the value of
the fish caught in that single seine was estimated at fully six hundred
pounds. Sometimes a thousand pounds' worth of fish is caught in one
seine. If the fishermen were always thus successful they would soon
grow rich; but they often meet with misadventures. On one occasion a
large net full of fish was caught by the tide before it could be dragged
on shore, and carried away against the rocks, when not only did the fish
get free, but the net itself was almost destroyed. At another time,
when a large school had been encircled, the fish making a dash together
at one point, capsized the net and got clear over the top, not a quarter
of the number remaining. Just before this, a seine had been securely
moored, when a ground swell setting in from the westward before the fish
could be taken out, the net was rolled over and over, and every fish
escaped, while the net was utterly destroyed.
The fishing-boats we met with in Mount's Bay are not only very
picturesque, with their brown-tanned sails, but are amongst the finest
to be found anywhere; and they often ride out gales in which larger
vessels might founder. Their plan is, when caught in a heavy sea, to
form a sort of breakwater of planks and spars, under the lee of which
they ride with sufficient scope of cable. We were told of one, with a
crew of five men, which performed a journey to Australia, having touched
at the Cape of Good Hope for water and fresh provisions. Since then,
several small craft, with only a couple of men on board, have crossed to
America. On one occasion, a man, with his wife, came from the United
States to England; but they both suffered severely from the privations
to which they were exposed.
In the spring fishery the nets are shot near shore, off some sandy
inlet, at sunset; and it is curious to note that the fish thus meshed
are all on the inside of the net, but when they are meshed in the
morning they are found on the opposite side. This proves that they come
into shallow water during daylight, and go off again into deep water at
night.
The people in this part of the country were at one time greatly addicted
to smuggling, and many of their vessels were commanded by daring
fellows, on whose heads a price had been set. Among the most desperate
of these outlaws was Captain Wellard, who commanded the Happy-go-Lucky,
carrying fourteen guns. For years he had carried on his trade with
impunity, and it was said he had vowed that he would never be caught.
When, however, Samuel Pellew, a brother of Lord Exmouth, became
collector of customs at Falmouth, he determined to put a stop to this
illicit traffic. Wellard had the audacity to issue notices, promising a
reward to any one who would kill the collector. Captain Pellew was not
to be daunted, and sent out his cruisers in every direction to look for
the smugglers. At length two of the king's vessels, early one morning,
found the Happy-go-Lucky at anchor, not far from Saint Michael's Mount.
On seeing the royal cruisers, the outlaws cut their cables, and making
sail, stood out to sea. Undaunted by the vastly superior odds against
them, the daring smugglers stood to their guns, and fought with a
bravery worthy of a better cause. For a whole hour--entertaining to the
last the hope of escape--they maintained the unequal contest. They
knew, indeed, that if taken alive, they would to a certainty be hanged.
At last Wellard fell, mortally wounded; but he held out as long as life
lasted. His mate was then killed, and twelve of his crew wounded, when
the survivors were compelled to surrender, and the smuggling craft was
carried in triumph into Falmouth Harbour. Here the prisoners were shut
up in Pendennis Castle; but their friends outside were not idle. A
large body of armed smugglers soon collected, and breaking into the
castle, rescued the imprisoned outlaws, and at the same time carried off
some of the wounded who were lodged in the town. One man was too much
hurt to be moved, so he was left behind, and eventually sent to London,
tried, and--having been captured red-handed--was hanged. This happened
only at the end of the last century.
We walked as far as the curious hollow in the earth called "The Devil's
Frying-pan." It is like a vast crater, two acres in extent, two hundred
feet deep, and converging to an orifice at the bottom, some sixty feet
in diameter. Round the upper edge we observed furze, gorse, and a
variety of grasses growing in great profusion, but below was the bare
rock. Carefully creeping down, we noticed through the hole the shine of
the water in the cavern beneath. We were wondering how this curious
aperture could have been formed, when papa explained that the ground was
once level, but that there had been a cavern below it, which was
gradually increased by the roof crumbling away, and the _debris_ being
washed out by the sea, until the rock became too thin to bear the
superincumbent weight of earth, when the centre gave way, and sinking
down, the surrounding earth followed, until it was formed into its
present shape. The sea continually rushing in, again cleared out the
cavern. As we were anxious to look up it, we hurried back to the boat,
and the tide being suitable, we pulled in, and were able to look up
through the hole down which we had before gazed.
We afterwards visited two other extraordinary caverns, known as "Dolor
Hugo," and "Raven's Hugo," up one of which we pulled for a considerable
distance. Grand and picturesque in the extreme were the cliffs above
us, which in every variety of shape extend along the whole of the Lizard
peninsula.
The curing establishment we found was much more extensive than we had
expected it to be. It consists of a circular court, called a cellar,
inside which the fish are piled up on the slabs running round the court.
First, a layer of salt is spread, then a layer of pilchards, and so
on--layers of pilchards and salt alternating until a vast mound is
raised. Below the slabs are gutters which convey the brine and oil
oozing out of the fish into a large pit in the centre of the court.
Upwards of three hundredweight of salt are used for each hogshead.
After the pilchards have remained about a month, they are cleansed from
the salt, and packed in hogsheads, each of which contains two thousand
four hundred fish, weighing four hundred and seventy-six pounds.
Pilchards when thus cured are called "fair maids"--a corruption of
_fumado_--the Spanish for smoked. Originally they were cured by
smoking, but salt preserves them much better.
The fish are not always caught near the shore, for the school frequently
keep out at sea, where the fishermen go in search of them. For this
purpose two descriptions of boats are employed; the largest measures
about thirty tons, the other is much smaller. The fishermen use a
number of nets--about twenty in all--called a set, which are then joined
together; each is about forty feet deep, and one hundred and seventy
feet long. When united they form a wall three quarters of a mile in
length, though sometimes they are much longer. The fish are not caught
by being encircled, but by running their heads through the meshes, where
they are held by the gills, which open in the water like the barbs of an
arrow, and consequently cannot be withdrawn; their bodies being larger
than the meshes, they thus remain hanging, unable to extricate
themselves.
At one end of this wall of nets a boat is secured, and drifts with the
tide. Here she remains until it is supposed that all the fish coming in
that direction have either passed by or been caught. The fishermen then
begin hauling in the net. The operation of hauling in nearly a mile of
net, perhaps full of fish, is no easy task, especially when there is a
"loppy" sea and the night is dark. This is, however, the most easy way
of catching pilchards, which can be pursued at nearly all times of the
year, for the fish swim about in small schools away from the shore, from
May until winter is well advanced, when the water becoming cool, they
return westwards to a warmer climate in the depths of the Atlantic. The
fishermen told us that the most propitious time for fishing is when
there is a loppy sea during a thick fog at night, as the pilchards do
not then perceive the nets in their way, and swimming against them, are
caught. When the water is transparent, the fish, perceiving the
luminous meshes, swim aside and escape. This appearance is called
brimming. As it rarely occurs during twilight, the fishermen choose
that time for shooting their nets, and wait until dawn before hauling
them again into their boats.
We could learn nothing about the natural history of pilchards; the
fishermen did not appear to trouble their heads on the matter. Some
said that they went away to far off regions during February, March, and
April, to deposit their spawn; others, that they went in search of food;
but where they went to, none of them could venture to suggest.
As we wished to get to Penzance before dark, should a breeze spring up,
we returned on board. Sailing along very close to the coast, we came
off Helston, situated on the inner side of a curious lagoon, separated
from the sea by a narrow spit of sand. Occasionally, in rainy seasons,
when the streams which run into the lagoon cause the water to rise to an
inconvenient height, so as to flood the shores, a narrow channel is cut
in the spit; and the water rushing through it at tremendous speed forms
a broad and deep passage, until the lake speedily sinks to its usual
level.
The breeze now freshening, we ran across the bay past Marazion, until we
sighted Mousehole, on the western side. Near it was a large cavern in
the side of the cliff, from which the village is said by some to take
its name. Mousehole, though a small place, contained some gallant men,
who, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, defended it bravely, under Sir
Francis Godolphin, against an attack of four hundred Spaniards, who came
in four galleys, and landing, did considerable damage to the
neighbouring places. In its harbour we now saw a large fleet of boats,
engaged in the pilchard and mackerel fishery. Not far off, on the
summit of a cliff, we observed two batteries, with guns mounted, to keep
any enemy who might venture near at bay.
Mackerel are caught much in the same manner as pilchards; but as they
will not keep, and are not so suitable for pickling, they are sent off
immediately to market.
All along this coast are caverns, which we much wished to explore. In
this neighbourhood also, up a valley which extends from a pretty little
place called Lamorna Cove, is a place where a large amount of the finest
granite is quarried.
Tacking when off Mousehole, we stood directly for Penzance. Approaching
the north shore, we had a fine view of Saint Michael's Mount, rising out
of the blue water washing its base, crowned by its far-famed and ancient
monastery.
Sailing on, we passed the white lighthouse at the end of the pier, and
dropped our anchor in the sheltered harbour, where, to our great
delight, we found the Dolphin.
Uncle Tom, and Jack, and Oliver at once came on board, very thankful to
find that we had escaped all dangers. Uncle Tom said that he was on the
point of sailing to look for us. We had just time to see the outline of
the tower, its domed hall rising in its midst, with pretty villas
surrounded by woods beyond, before the fast-gathering darkness shut them
out of our view, while the twinkling lights from the old town and a
number of stone-vessels and other coasters and fishing-boats cast their
glimmer on the surface of the water.
Penzance is a pretty and picturesque place, and is now an important
fishing-town. It is also celebrated as being the birthplace of Sir
Humphrey Davy. It has greatly improved since the last century, when it
is said that the people refused to allow a mail coach road to be
extended to their town, that they possessed but one carpet and one cart,
and had not heard of silver forks; while the _Sherborne Mercury_ was the
only newspaper which circulated among them. When a stranger approached,
the boys in the town invariably armed themselves with stones to fling at
him, shouting out, "Whar do you come from? Be off, now!" John Wesley
did much to introduce the pure gospel among the inhabitants; and we saw
several fine churches, in addition to a number of houses in which the
floors were undoubtedly carpeted.
Next morning we put off in our two boats to visit Saint Michael's Mount,
on which we landed on a stone pier, with a few houses near it. As we
gazed upwards at the pile of buildings which crowns the summit of the
mount, we expected to find much interest in exploring its ancient halls
and passages. We were somewhat disappointed when, having made our way
up to the top, we found that it had been so greatly renovated as to be
deprived of much of its antique look. But it is a grand old pile--the
tower, which rises in the centre, and is the most ancient portion,
having been built in the fifteenth century. Although used as a
monastery, it was strongly fortified; and guns round the walls still
remain, notwithstanding that they would be of little use in the present
day. We saw, just above the edge of a cliff, a curious and ancient
cross, richly carved. The monks' refectory was, after the Reformation,
turned into a banqueting hall; and the cornice which runs round it
represents hunting scenes of boars, stags, wolves, and bulls. Obtaining
a light, we descended by a flight of stairs, through a small door in the
side of the wall, down to a low, dark vault, in which it was said the
bones of a man were discovered when the vault was found, some years ago.
Whether he had been shut up there by the monks, or had been a prisoner
of war, it was difficult to determine. The vault was evidently used for
the purpose of concealing the treasure of the monastery.
We afterwards climbed up by a narrow spiral staircase to the top of the
tower, from whence we had a fine view over the whole of the bay and the
surrounding shores. On the summit are the remnants of a lantern which
was formerly used as a beacon for the benefit of mariners entering the
bay. This monastic castle, for such it should be called, has frequently
been besieged. On the last occasion it was held by Sir Francis Bassett,
for Charles the First, when it was besieged by the Parliamentary forces;
but he was at last compelled to capitulate, though as a reward for his
bravery he and his followers were allowed to retire to the Scilly
Islands. Altogether, we agreed that it was one of the most interesting
spots we had hitherto visited during our voyage.
As we were anxious to see the Land's End, and could not approach the
point in the yachts without risk, we determined to visit the famous
promontory by land. Engaging a carriage, we set off, making a circuit
to see several curiosities on our way. First we stopped at a cave,
apparently part of a fortification. Near it are two upright granite
rocks, fifty yards apart, said to form the head and foot-stones of a
Cornish giant.
"He must have been a tall fellow!" exclaimed Oliver, as he paced the
distance between the two stones. The site is called the Giant's Grave;
and a countryman who met us declared that "Once upon a time, two giants
fought here,--for I don't know how many days,--until one had his skull
knocked in by a club formed out of an enormous oak."
Another legend assigns the name of "The Pipers" to them, because not far
off is a circle of nineteen stones, said to be the petrified bodies of a
number of damsels who spent the Sabbath in dancing instead of going to
church. These stones were therefore called the Dancing Stones, or the
"Merry Maidens." Some time ago a farmer, to whom the field on which
they stand belongs, wishing to get rid of them, commenced operations by
harnessing a yoke of oxen to one of the damsels; but he was warned to
desist, in consequence of one of the animals falling down dead. Since
then they have remained unmolested, except by the hammers of amateur
geologists.
Farther on we reached a fine headland called Castle Treryn, an ancient
entrenchment having occupied the whole area. On the summit stands the
famous Logan rocking-stone, which is said to weigh eighty tons. Putting
our shoulders under it, by some exertion we made it rock or move. Once
upon a time a Lieutenant Goldsmith of the Royal Navy--a nephew of the
author of the _Vicar of Wakefield_--happening to land here, took it into
his head to try to dislodge the stone; and, somewhat to his dismay,
probably, he succeeded in doing so completely. Over it fell, but did
not go rattling down the cliffs, as I had heard asserted, for it would
then have inevitably been broken to pieces. Still, as the stone was on
the ground, and could no longer rock, the people in the neighbourhood
were highly incensed against the lieutenant, especially as visitors were
not likely to come as heretofore to the spot. They accordingly
memorialised the Admiralty, complaining of what had happened, and
Lieutenant Goldsmith was ordered to replace it. He thereupon erected
over it some vast shears, and by means of tackles ingeniously contrived,
lifted back the stone on to the pivot on which it had before rested.
He, however, found it impossible to poise it as nicely as before, and
consequently it is necessary to exert more strength to make it move than
was required before it had been tumbled over. To make some amends to
the people, the gallant lieutenant replaced another stone of a similar
character which had fallen from its position.
We passed numerous very small cottages built with enormous stones. They
have diminutive windows, which will not open--this style of architecture
being necessary to resist cold and the fierce gales which blow across
the narrow peninsula. As we proceeded, trees grew scarcer and scarcer.
At last we came to a tavern with a sign-board, on the east side of which
was painted "The last refreshment house in England;" and on the other,
facing the Atlantic, "The first refreshment house in England."
Among the many pretty coves we saw was one called Vellan Dreath, or the
Mill in the Sand; but not a vestige of the mill remains. Once upon a
time it was inhabited by a bold miller and his stout son. One morning,
as he was looking seawards, just as he was about to turn on the water to
move his mill, he observed above the sea-mists the masts of a tall ship.
What object she had in coming so near the coast he could not divine;
but it was as well to be cautious, lest she should prove an enemy.
Going down to the edge of the water, he listened, when he heard the
sound of oars, indicating the approach of a boat, and voices which
sounded strange to his ears. Calling to his son, he summoned him back
into the mill, the door of which he closed. A hole formed for lifting
the latch enabled him to look out, when he saw a party of Spaniards with
long guns coming towards the mill. On this, running the muzzle of his
piece through the hole, he ordered the enemy to keep off; but as they--
regardless of his warning--still came on, he fired, and knocked one of
them over. After he had fired, the Dons retired to a distance; but it
was pretty evident that they intended to attack the mill. On this,
being certain that the small garrison could not hold out, and seeing the
enemy again approaching, he set fire to a rick of furze, and while the
wind blew the smoke in the faces of the Spaniards, he and his son, each
taking a sack of flour on their shoulders, issued out through a back
door and made their way up the hill. They had got some distance up the
steep ascent before they were discovered by the Spaniards, who then
began firing at them. The gallant millers made their escape, but the
old man received a wound of which he ultimately died. The son declared
that his sack, from the number of bullets in it, was far heavier than
when he set out.
Near it is Sennen Cove, where there is a fishing-village and a
Coastguard station. Some way off the shore, rising from amid the
foaming waves, is a high rock, denominated "The Irish Lady," from the
peculiarity of its form, which is that of a female figure, with a long
robe, advancing into the sea. We were told that many years ago an Irish
vessel was driven on the rocks; but that one female alone was seen
clinging to the wreck until the waves washed her away, and that it is
her figure which now appears still surrounded by the foaming billows.
"I wonder she hasn't got tired of standing out there all by herself!"
exclaimed Dick.
Another rock in the same neighbourhood, far out in the sea, is called
"The Armed Knight." It is a magnificent pile, two hundred feet in
height. The summit, from the point we saw it, assumes the profile of a
man's head, while the regular way in which the blocks of granite join
each other has much the appearance of armour. As Dick observed, he must
have been related to the giant whose grave we had visited.
Later in the day we reached what we were assured was the Land's End,
although other rocks appeared to project as far westward into the ocean.
It was a grand scene. In all directions were headlands, crowned by
what appeared to be ruined castles and towers, rocks scattered around,
piled up into a variety of fantastic shapes; while afar off we could
distinguish the faint outline of the Scilly Islands. Imagination might
picture them as some fairy land, likely at any moment to vanish, though
we had little doubt that they would remain to let us pay them a visit.
A few hundred yards off is a headland called "Doctor Johnson's Head,"
because the rocks at the extremity present somewhat the appearance of a
human face with massive features, like those of the great lexicographer.
The point is surmounted by an oval boulder, which is so easily poised
on one point that it rocks far more easily than the better known Logan
Rock.
Land's End itself consists of a mass of granite which extends in a lofty
ridge far into the sea, the summit crowned by rocks which have the
appearance of some vast castle. Indeed, so curiously-shaped are the
rocks in this neighbourhood, that they have generally an artificial
appearance.
Many years ago, a party of officers had come to Land's End on a visit of
inspection. Two of them proposed riding down the slope towards the
extreme point, which has perpendicular precipices on both sides. A
third officer--Captain, afterwards General, Arbuthnot--dismounted, and
led his horse after his companions, considering that the place was too
dangerous to ride down. After enjoying the view for some time, the
party proposed returning, when Captain Arbuthnot, believing that there
would be no danger in riding up, mounted to follow his companions.
Scarcely, however, was he in his saddle, than his horse, a spirited
animal, became restive, and began to kick and plunge, inclining to the
precipice on the right side. In vain its rider tried to show the animal
her danger; to his horror, he found that her feet were close to the
precipice. He had just time to throw himself off, and clear his feet
from the stirrups, when over she went down the cliff, and was dashed to
pieces, leaving him on the slippery sward close to the edge of the
precipice. The spot where the accident occurred is still shown.
Two miles off Land's End, on a mass of rocks which rise some seventy
feet above the surface at low water, stands the Longships Lighthouse,
the summit of which is fifty-six feet above the rock. The tower is
divided into three stories. In the lower is kept provisions, with water
and coal; the second is a cooking-room and oil-store: while the third is
a sleeping-room. The lantern consists of a brilliant catoptric fixed
light, produced by nineteen Argand lamps. It was built in 1793 by a Mr
Smith. Before the granite blocks of which it is composed were brought
to the rock, they were hewn out and put together at Sennen Cove. The
stones are dovetailed one into the other, and are secured by oak
trennels strongly cemented. Often, when a storm is raging, the waves
beat completely over the structure; indeed, when any wind is blowing, it
is surrounded by masses of foam. Four men belong to the lighthouse,
three always remain in it, and one goes on leave every twenty-eight
days, when the weather permits; but this, during the winter season, is
very often impossible; and sometimes for weeks together the man on shore
cannot get off.
During a storm, some years ago, so furious were the waves, that the
lantern was broken in, and the keepers fully believed that the whole
structure would be washed away. We heard of an inspector who had
visited the rock during fine weather, and who had begun to find great
fault with the large stock of provisions kept in the storehouse. Before
the cutter which brought him could return, a heavy gale sprang up, and
he himself was kept a prisoner for nine weeks, after which the
lighthouse-keepers heard no more complaints as to the quantity of food
kept in store.
The bright light, which burst forth from the top of the white tower,
warned us to beat a retreat.
Not far from Land's End we found another inn, which looked much out of
place in that wild region. Dick declared that it should be called "The
firster and laster inn in England," it having been built some time after
the one we had previously passed. As it was too late to return to
Penzance that evening, we took advantage of it, and put up there for the
night, that we might visit some mines and other interesting spots in the
neighbourhood.
The first thing in the morning we set off to visit the Botallack mine,
the machinery of which we could see perched among crags that looked
almost inaccessible. We had not time to go into the mine, which is
carried far under the ocean. In some places there is not more than six
or eight feet between the roof of the galleries and the water. Once the
sea broke into it; but the hole was plugged and the water pumped out.
On another occasion, a party of miners discovered a magnificent piece of
ore little more than three feet below the ocean. The treasure tempted
them to risk their lives to obtain it. They cut it out, and
successfully filled up the hole. It is said that so terrific is the
noise during heavy weather, when the waves dash in on the shore, and
roll the pebbles backwards and forwards, that even the bold miners are
compelled to rush out, unable to endure the uproar. The scene was most
extraordinary. Vast pumps appeared amid the cliffs, unceasingly drawing
up water, which rushed in a red torrent into the sea. Steam and smoke
were spitting out in all directions; and men, women, and boys were
employed in sorting the ore as the kibble brought it to the surface.
This was only one of many similar mines along the coast. Having
satisfied our curiosity, we drove back to Penzance; and at once repaired
on board the yachts, as papa and Uncle Tom were unwilling to lose more
of the fine weather.
Without a moment's delay, the anchors were got up, and we made sail out
of Mount's Bay.