Half-an-hour’s vigorous pulling has doubled the long promontory
of Hope’s Nose, a wilderness of stones, like what I suppose, from
published descriptions, the foot of Mount Sinai to be, and brought us,
between two raised beaches, into the pretty cove of Meadfoot, capped by
elegant villas. These beaches, evidences of the lifting of the land,
for they surely once stood, as beaches stand now, at the sea-level, are
situate, the one on the main, the other on the Thatcher, a rocky islet
some two hundred yards off shore. A few minutes more, and we are in a
wild scene indeed. Isolated rocks stand up, in angular masses, upright
columns, and sharp peaks, out of the sea, which is quite deep, even at
lowest spring-tide. The coast itself too is rugged, precipitous, and
in many spots quite perpendicular; one bold promontory, which runs out
with a narrow knife-edge summit, is perforated by a natural archway of
lofty elevation, of very striking aspect. It is distinctly visible for
miles along the shores of Torbay, and is dignified with the name of
London Bridge.
Here, then, is our fishing-ground to-day. Threading the slender
passages between the perpendicular rocks, or creeping-in close under
their overhanging landward sides, where no ray of the sun has ever
penetrated, we hang on by the points and groins, and eagerly peer
below. Into one lane our boatman hesitates to venture. It is but just
wide enough to allow the boat to pass; indeed here and there she cannot
without rubbing her gunwales; and if a stronger swell than usual were
to roll-in from seaward while entangled, her side might be stove-in
before she could be extricated. However, its gloom looks so tempting,
and the water among the islets is so very smooth, that we succeed in
persuading him, and we push and drag into the very midst of the watery
alley. The rocks rise close on either hand like lofty walls, and
descend as perpendicularly, deep and far down beneath our keel; as we
can well see, for the water is of lustrous transparency.