We got a view of North Berwick, which stands on the extreme northern
point of Haddington; and about three miles to the eastward of it we came
off the far-famed Tantallon Castle, in days of yore the stronghold of
the Douglases. Of course, we got out _Marmion_, and read the
description of this celebrated fortress, which by the extent of its
ruins must have been of great size and strength.
"I said, Tantallon's dizzy steep Hung o'er the margin of the deep. Many
a rude tower and rampart there Repelled the insult of the air, Which,
when the tempest vexed the sky, Half breeze, half spray, came whistling
by. A parapet's embattled row Did seaward round the castle go.
Sometimes in dizzy steps descending, Sometimes in narrow circuit
bending, Sometimes in platform broad extending, Its varying circle did
combine Bulwark, and bartizan, and line, And bastion, tower, and
vantage-coign. Above the booming ocean leant The far-projecting
battlement; The billows burst, in ceaseless flow, Upon the precipice
below."
We passed the mouth of the river Tyne, south of which stands Dunbar.
The next place of interest we came off was Fast Castle, of which two
tall towers remain close to the cliffs,--in former days the stronghold
of the Homes. It is supposed to be the original of Wolfs Crag in _The
Bride of Lammermoor_. We looked through our glasses at the spot where
the unhappy Master of Ravenswood sank with his steed into the
treacherous quicksand.
About fifteen miles farther on, we passed the bluff promontory Saint
Abb's Head, and soon afterwards arrived off Berwick, which, I need
hardly say, stands at the mouth of the Tweed, the river dividing England
from Scotland. So close does the railway run to the cliffs, that we
could hear the trains passing as clearly as if we were on shore, and
could see them shooting by at a speed which made us jealous. As the
wind was fair, we did not put into the Tweed, but stood close enough to
Berwick to have a cursory view of it. As all the world knows, Berwick
is not within any county, for although really in Berwickshire, it
belongs to England. It is a county in itself. A portion is still
surrounded by walls erected in the time of Elizabeth; and it is defended
by several bastions, with batteries commanding the entrance to the
harbour. We could see the remains of an ancient castle, which is now a
heap of ruins, but above it stands the Bell Tower, still almost perfect.
A number of vessels passed in and out of the harbour while we were off
it, showing that the place has a good deal of trade. As we looked
through our glasses, we saw a number of churches and public buildings.
A long stone pier runs out on the north side of the Tweed, with a
lighthouse at its end.
We now stood on towards Holy Island, a few miles south of Berwick, off
the Northumbrian coast; and as we had still several hours of daylight,
we hove-to off the island. Here, in the early days of Christianity, was
a college of evangelists, who went forth to preach the simple gospel
through the northern portions of the country, to its heathen kings, as
well as to the people over whom they held sway. Ultimately, monasteries
were built here, famous for the supposed piety of their inmates.
We pulled on shore to visit the ruins of the celebrated Abbey of
Lindisfarne. If the pilgrim visitors arrived at low water, they could
get across by following the sandbank which connects it with the
mainland; but they had to make haste, to escape being caught by the
flood.
Besides the monastery, there was a castle of great strength, which often
resisted the invader's hostile attacks; and heathen Danes had again and
again been driven back to their ships by its stalwart garrison. Its
glories, however, are departed. We could find only a few low walls,
over which we could leap, and the remains of a staircase of eight or ten
steps in a tower but little higher than the wall. A board warning off
trespassers took away what little romance we had conjured up.
Returning on board, we again stood to the southward, sighting Bamborough
Castle, elevated on a green mound above the village. Off it lies the
Longstone Rock and the Farne Islands. The coast looked bleak and
desolate, with here and there dark rocks running into the sea. The wind
was very light as we came off the Longstone Lighthouse.
While the yachts hove-to, the boats were lowered, and we pulled up to
it, in order to pay a visit to the scene of Grace Darling's heroism.
For upwards of fifty years the lighthouse was under the charge of
William Darling, the father of Grace. We understood that the present
head keeper was a member of the family. The tower stands on a rock, is
painted red, and the light revolves every half-minute. We were much
interested with the memorials of Grace Darling which embellished the
sitting-room. The light-keeper on duty pointed out the various
localities connected with the wreck of the Forfarshire.
Before daylight, on the 6th of September 1838, a furious gale blowing,
Grace Darling, who acted as William Darling's assistant and was on
watch, heard, as she thought, the cries of people coming from the
direction of some rocks a mile away. She awoke her father, and together
they stood listening to the appeals for help; but in the dark, with the
furious sea there was running, it was impossible to put off to their
assistance. When day broke, however, the old man launched his boat, and
was about to shove off, when, observing the state of the tide and
weather, he hesitated to make the attempt. As the light increased,
Grace, who had been anxiously watching the wreck, declared that she saw
some people still clinging to it.
"We must save them!" she exclaimed; and seizing an oar, she stepped into
the boat.
The old man, aroused by her example, followed her. Through the foaming
seas, which threatened every moment to overwhelm the little coble, they
pulled off to the wreck. The fore part of the vessel, to which nine
people were clinging, alone remained; to reach them it was necessary to
land on the lee side of the rock. This, after considerable difficulty,
William Darling succeeded in doing, when immediately Grace rowed off in
the coble, to prevent it being dashed to pieces. One by one, five of
the crew and four passengers were drawn by the lighthouse-keeper off the
wreck, and placed on the rock, from whence they were transferred to the
boat, and conveyed, a few at a time, to the lighthouse.
Owing to the state of the weather, no communication could be held with
the mainland for two days, during which time the nine shipwrecked
persons were treated with the utmost kindness by Mr Darling and his
daughter. The calm bravery of Grace, who was at that time only
twenty-two years of age, excited the admiration of all who heard it.
Testimonials and suitable presents, together with seven hundred pounds
sterling raised by subscription, showed how highly the public
appreciated her conduct. The Forfarshire steamer, of three hundred
tons, had sailed the previous evening from Hull, bound for Dundee; but
her boilers becoming defective, the engines could no longer work, and at
three o'clock the following morning she struck on the Longstone, the
outermost of the Farne Islands, between which the master was
endeavouring to run the vessel. The mate, with seven seamen, lowered a
boat, and were escaping, when one of the passengers leaped on board,
others in vain attempting to follow his example. The nine occupants of
this boat were the following morning picked up by a coaster and carried
into Shields,--they, with those rescued by the Darlings, being the only
persons who escaped out of sixty souls.
Four years after this heroic deed, Grace Darling lay upon her dying bed.
The grief of the family was very great, for Grace was endeared to them
all. "Do not mourn for me," she said; "I am only exchanging this life
for one far better. If I remained here, I should be subject to trouble
and sickness; but in dying I go to be with Christ my Saviour." Two
beautiful memorials of Grace have been erected: one in Bamborough
Churchyard, and the other in Saint Cuthbert's Chapel, on the Farne
Island. Our picture represents that in Bamborough Churchyard. Her
sleeping figure lies under a Gothic canopy, backed by the blue waves,
and within sight of the scene of her heroism.
"She is lying and sleeping now
Under the verdant turf.
Ah, there were breakers she might not ride!
And her hair grew damp in that strong, dark tide,
But not with the briny surf.
"And out of her lonely grave
She bids us this lesson prove,
That the weakest may wipe some tears that flow,
And the strongest power for good below
Is the might of unselfish love."
In 1860, the Iris, of Arbroath, struck on the rocks close to where the
Forfarshire was lost. The wind was so terrific, and the sea ran so
high, that the crew were afraid to take to their boat. They accordingly
leaped into the water, and were washed on to the rock, though it was
with the greatest difficulty that they managed to reach it. Here they
remained twelve hours, the sea being so rough that no boat could come to
them. Towards evening, the wind having slightly fallen, William
Darling, who was then seventy-five years of age, and had been watching
the wreck all day, put off with several hands from the lighthouse, and
rescued the poor fellows from their perilous position.
We had a scramble over a portion of the Farne Islands, on which there
are two lighthouses at a considerable distance from each other. There
are three keepers belonging to the two, but only one remains on watch at
a time; he has to attend to both lights, and has to walk from house to
house. The keeper showed us a curious contrivance by which he can at
once rouse the sleeping keeper without leaving his own post. It
consists of a hand-bellows attached to a tube which rings a bell at the
ear of the sleeper. He told us that occasionally blackbirds and
thrushes are killed by striking against the lantern. We saw a number of
rabbits running in and out of their burrows. There is an old chapel
which has been restored and another building, converted into a
dwelling-house for the clergyman, who at times comes across from Durham.
Nat, who had landed with us, was very anxious to keep a young cormorant
which he had picked up. He took it under his arm, intending to carry
off his prize; but the mother bird attacked him so furiously with its
long beak, that it nearly put out one of his eyes, and succeeded in
severely biting his lip. On this, Nat very naturally let go the
youngster, which scuttled off, determined not to be caught again, and,
taking to the water, swam away at a great rate. The odour produced by
the birds was anything but pleasant. We saw a number of cormorants
diving in search of prey, and they came up with eels in their mouths.
One had caught a big eel, which it battered against the rock until it
had killed it; but others gobbled down small eels without the slightest
hesitation. The young birds were the oddest-looking creatures
imaginable. Their covering was a hard black skin, with here and there
black woolly down upon it. The old birds' heads and necks were black,
speckled with white feathers, while the upper part of the body was brown
mingled with black. They had also white patches on their thighs, and
yellow pouches under the throat edged with white. They were fully three
feet long; so that, with their strong beaks, they were formidable
antagonists.
The gulls were even more numerous than the cormorants. Though they kept
out of our way, they did not appear otherwise to fear us. They looked
very large on the wing, as their white feathers glanced in the rays of
the setting sun; but they are not more than half the size of the
cormorant. They act the useful part of scavengers on the coast, and
eagerly pick up all the offal thrown on the shore.
We returned to the yachts, and once more made sail. We got a good view
through our glasses of the old towers of Dunstanborough Castle. As the
wind fell light, we pulled in to have a look at it, papa being anxious
to do so, as he had visited it in his younger days. The weather-beaten
ruin stands on the summit of a black cliff, rising sheer out of the
ocean. Three towers, one square, and the others semicircular, remain,
with the greater portion of the outer wall, enclosing several acres of
green turf, over which, instead of mail-clad warriors, peaceable sheep
now wander. The principal tower overlooks a deep gully or gap in the
rocks, up which the sea, during easterly gales, rushes with tremendous
force and terrific noise, lashed into masses of foam, which leap high
over the crumbling walls. This gully is known by the significant name
of the Rumble Churn. This ocean-circled fortress was erected--so say
the chroniclers--in the fourteenth century, by Thomas, Earl of
Lancaster. Many a tale of siege and border warfare its stones could
tell; for the Cheviot hills--the boundary between Scotland and England--
can be seen from the summit of its battlements. Having bravely held out
for Queen Margaret of Anjou, it was completely dismantled in the reign
of Edward the Fourth, and has ever since remained like a lion deprived
of its claws, crouching over the ocean, a sad memento of its former
power. Had it remained until gunpowder was in general use, it would
probably have been entirely overthrown.
Papa described to us Warkworth Castle, which stands further south, above
the banks of the Coquet river, on a high wood-covered hill. The greater
portion of the ruins remain; indeed, the woodwork alone has disappeared,
and the masonry is in so good a state of preservation, that the late
Duke of Northumberland proposed to restore it, and make it his
residence, instead of Alnwick Castle. Near it a hermit dwelt in a
cavern: he became a hermit in consequence of having killed the brother
of his betrothed, whom he mistook for a rival, after his return from the
Crusades.
We sighted Coquet Island, with its square white lighthouse, from which a
light burst forth as we approached. Near it were the castellated
dwellings of the keepers, painted different colours. In its
neighbourhood are dangerous rocks, and over each a red ray is shown, to
warn vessels which might otherwise run upon them. We were now almost
constantly in sight of some light, which enabled us to know our exact
position. Dick and I turned in while Coquet Island light still shone
brightly.
We expected the next morning to be off Hartlepool, at the mouth of the
Tees; but when day broke we found ourselves in sight of a picturesque
castle standing on a point of land, with a broad river flowing below it,
and a town at its foot. When we asked Truck what it was, he answered:
"That's Tynemouth, at the mouth of the Tyne; and the captain says he
intends to run in there to have a look at the place. It's as well worth
seeing as any place we have been to. Beyond it you see North Shields,
and South Shields on the southern bank; and higher up is Newcastle,
where coals come from, as you've heard tell of."
We laughed at Truck's description. "If they don't come from Newcastle,
I don't know where else they come from," remarked Dick.
"A good many other places, young gentleman. There's no small quantity
shipped from Sunderland and Swansea; and also from some of the Scotch
ports. If we go up to Newcastle, we shall see the curious way they are
put on board the colliers."
"But why haven't we got further?" I asked, "Because we have had light
winds, and the tides have been against us most of the night," answered
Truck.
As not only the tide, but the wind also was against us, papa, on coming
on deck, agreed to run up the Tyne. Hauling our wind, we stood in for
North Shields, passing close under the lighthouse, which stands amid the
ruins of the castle.
North Shields was evidently an active commercial place. Shipbuilding
was going on in the yards, and vessels were loading with coals, bound to
all parts of the world, each with a number of keels, or oval boats,
alongside, which had brought down the coal from the upper part of the
river. On board the vessels cranes were at work lifting up tubs of coal
from out of the keels, and depositing them in their holds. Of these
keels I shall have more to say by-and-by. Steamers emitting black
wreaths of smoke were coming and going,--some towing vessels out to sea,
others taking them up the harbour; while several were conveying
passengers. After breakfast we went on board one of the passenger
vessels, for papa and Uncle Tom did not wish to carry the yachts higher
up.
We had clear evidence that we were in a region of coal. The greater
number of vessels we met were colliers, their crews begrimed with coal
dust. "Everybody," as Dick remarked, "had a coaly look." People were
heard conversing in a broad Northumbrian accent, with a burr in most of
their words. They were broad-shouldered men, capable of doing any
amount of hard work. We came in sight of a fine stone bridge with nine
elliptical arches, which connects Newcastle with Gateshead, on the
opposite bank. Above it is another magnificent bridge; it is double,
the lower roadway, ninety feet above the river, being used for carriages
and foot passengers, while the upper carries the railway. It has two
piers at the margin of the river, and four others in the stream itself,
besides smaller piers. It was curious to walk under it, and to hear the
trains rumbling by overhead.
Newcastle stands on the north bank of the river. At first we thought it
a very smoky town, but on emerging from the narrow old streets we
reached some fine broad thoroughfares with large houses and magnificent
public buildings. At the quays were a vast number of vessels, some of
considerable size. Formerly coals used to be put on board vessels from
the oval boats I have before mentioned, called keels, of which a
considerable number are still employed. Each keel carries about twenty
tons of coal, the larger masses being piled up in the vessel, but
smaller coal is carried in tubs, each keel having about eight tubs. The
keels are antique-looking craft, such as were probably used in the
earliest days of our history. They are propelled by large oars. The
keel man, commencing at the bow, presses the oar before him, until he
reaches the after part of the boat; he then hurries back to the bow, and
again puts down his oar. The keel men are a fine hardy race. Formerly
they were spoken of as "bullies;" but this, among the colliers, means
"brothers," or is derived from "boolie," that is, "beloved." Though
their manners are rough, their character is good, and they are
remarkably friendly to each other. Being all "keel bullies" or "keel
brothers," they support an extensive establishment in Newcastle called
the "Keelmen's Hospital." We met a whole fleet of these keels as we
came up, working their way down with their "puys" or oars. A
considerable quantity of coal is scattered over the sides when hoisting
it on board, and this is brought back by the flood tide into shallow
water, where a number of people are seen in their little cobles dredging
for it.
The larger number of vessels are, however, loaded from the "straiths."
These are platforms placed over the river and connected with tramways,
joined to the various pits. The waggons, each containing two and a half
tons of coal, come down for many miles until they reach the "straith,"
when they are brought to a stand. In the "straith" is a hatchway, which
opens by machinery, through which the waggon descends with a man in it,
who, when it arrives over the hold, unfastens a catch which secures the
bottom of the waggon; this being made to turn upon hinges, like a trap
door when opened, the whole of the coal is poured into the hold.
Attached to the suspending machinery are two counterpoising weights,
which being less heavy than the waggon laden with coal, do not impede
its descent. The moment it is discharged of its coal it is drawn up
again by these weights.
As we descended the river we were much amused by seeing these coal
waggons running swiftly on the "straith," stop a moment, then go down
with the descending men; and having got rid of their coal with a loud
rushing noise, rise up again, as if perfectly aware of what they were,
about.
We returned in the afternoon to the yachts, and stood out to sea, hoping
to obtain a slant of wind which might carry us further down the coast.
Having seen the largest coal-shipping place, we had no particular wish
to visit Sunderland, the chief port of Durham. Beyond it is Seaham,
which has of late years sprung into existence. The mines in the
neighbourhood belonged to the late Marquis of Londonderry, who wisely
formed a fine harbour here by constructing two piers running out from
the land; and his heir has been richly rewarded by his enterprise.
Further south is the seaport of Hartlepool, jutting out into the sea, a
short distance from the river Tees. It was once a place of great
strength, and contained one of the most ancient monasteries in the
kingdom. A portion of the walls which defended the old haven still
remains; and the new harbour has been formed by a pier run out from the
south side of the town. It will not, however, hold vessels of large
tonnage. The inhabitants are mostly engaged in fishing.
The next day we were in sight of the Yorkshire coast. Passing Whitby
and Scarborough, after rounding Flamborough Head, opening up Bridlington
Bay, we stood for Spurn Head, on the top of which are two lighthouses.
As we had still sufficient daylight, we ran up the Humber to visit Hull,
which stands on its northern bank. A large number of coasters were at
anchor before its extensive quays; it has also docks of great size.
Numbers of steam-vessels were gliding in and out of the harbour. It is
properly called Kingston-upon-Hull. It took its name when it was
purchased by Edward the First, who, seeing the great natural advantages
of its position, formed here a fortified town and port. There is
nothing very attractive in the appearance of the place; but we were
interested by a visit to a fine column on a square pedestal, erected to
the memory of the great Wilberforce, whose statue adorns the summit.
The town contains two colleges, several hospitals, and numerous other
public institutions. We went on board the guardship stationed here,
with some of the officers, with whom papa was acquainted, and were
interested in hearing an account of the Coastguard system. Ships are
stationed at different ports round the coast, and are called
"Coastguard" or district ships, for Coastguard and Royal Naval Coast
Volunteer duties. The English coast is divided into six districts;
namely, the Hull district, which extends from Berwick to Cromer; the
Harwich, from North Yarmouth to Ramsgate; the Newhaven district, from
Folkestone, including Southampton Water, the Isle of Wight, and
Lymington; the Falmouth and Weymouth district, including Bournemouth,
Land's End, and taking in Penzance and the Scilly Isles. The rest of
the coast is divided between Milford and Liverpool. Scotland has two
"Coastguard" districts, the east and the west coasts. Ireland has also
two districts. The services on which the ships are employed are
numerous. First, for the protection of the revenue; to keep up a
reserve of seamen, and as a depot for stores and clothing. The captain
of the ship takes the duties of the old inspecting commanders, and the
officers--of whom there are a large number appointed to each ship for
that especial purpose--have command of the different stations. Each
ship has four or five tenders attached to her, employed in protecting
either the revenue or the fisheries. The ships generally go to sea for
a month or so in the course of the year, and are kept ready to proceed
to any part of the world. They do not keep up their usual complement of
men, but when required the crew are drawn from the Coastguard. Besides
these ships, there are six in England and two in Scotland, called "drill
ships." They, however, never go to sea. They are employed in receiving
on board the Royal Naval Reserve Force,--seamen as well as officers,--
who go through a periodical drill. The Royal Naval Coast Volunteers
also drill on board these ships. These volunteers are seafaring men,
and they rank with ordinary seamen, and not, like the men of the Naval
Reserve, with able-bodied seamen.
Both the men of the Reserve and Coast Volunteers are expected to drill
twenty-eight days in the year, either on board a district ship, a drill
ship, or at the shore battery. By these means an efficient body of men
is kept up, ready for immediate service in case of war. The men quarrel
at times among themselves, the result frequently being a black eye; but
they will never tell upon each other; and sometimes a very curious cause
is assigned as the reason of having a black eye. A man once said "that
he had slipped and kicked himself," though how he managed to kick his
own eye it is difficult to say! Another reason often given is, "that
they have run up against a pump-handle," The man-of-war hats are very
unpopular, for they are particularly heavy. Good straw hats having
lately been scarce, an armourer was found constructing one of tin; but
that must have been not only heavier, but much hotter. The men usually
make their own hats, and as usually manage to lose them. As soon as the
hat is found, the man is placed before it, and compelled to look
steadily at it for a certain time.
We got under weigh again in the afternoon of the next day, and stood
down the Humber, until we came in sight once more of the Spurn lights.
During the next night, while we were steering for the Dudgeon floating
light-vessel, one of the men on the look-out shouted--
"A light on the starboard bow! Starboard the helm! Hard a starboard!"
and I saw a screw steamer rapidly approaching us. Had the night been
thick, and the look-out not been on the alert, we should certainly have
been run down.
It was two hours before we sighted Dudgeon light, and from thence we
steered for Cromer, which we knew by its having a bright light revolving
every minute. Outside of it was the Hasborough floating light, and
beyond that another light-vessel. We came off Cromer in the forenoon,
when the vessels were hove-to; and we pulled in for the shore to visit
some friends of Uncle Tom.
We landed among a number of fishing-boats, the place itself being a
large and flourishing village, though there were a number of nice
residences for people who visit it during the summer. In the middle
rises a remarkably handsome church, its tower rising high above the
surrounding buildings.
Along the coast are several round towers, which were built during the
last war to defend the shore from invasion, though at present they would
be of very little use. Papa was so pleased with the appearance of the
place, that he said he should come there some summer with the rest of
the family.
Leaving Cromer, we stood on for Great Yarmouth, inside a long line of
sandbanks, which are known by the light-vessels stationed at their
different ends.
Great Yarmouth is situated on the seashore, at the southern end of
Norfolk. The river Yare follows a serpentine course, and falls into the
sea at the village of Gorleston, a short distance from Yarmouth to the
southward.
We waited until a pilot came on board to take us in, as the entrance is
very narrow, between two long wooden piers, one projecting a
considerable way into the sea. Further along the shore to the south
rises a high sandy cliff, on the top of which we saw a good-sized vessel
building. We asked the pilot how she could ever be launched, and he
told us that she would be eased down the cliffs by ropes at high tide,
when the water, rushing close up to the base, would float her.
We brought-up at some little distance from the entrance, opposite a line
of neat-looking cottages, forming the village of Gorleston, and
inhabited chiefly by pilots. As it was getting late, we settled not to
go on shore until the following morning.